Rewrite and translate this title What Does Young Thug’s Plea Deal Mean for His Rap Career? to Japanese between 50 and 60 characters. Do not include any introductory or extra text; return only the title in Japanese.

When the news came out last week that Young Thug was finally free, only a few diehards and spoilsports paid attention to the details. Yet those same details are now crucial to him staying out of jail.

Young Thug’s plea negotiations, according to his lawyers, broke down specifically because the state was willing to let him go free, but wanted to put “unconscionable” restrictions on the rapper. Instead of agreeing to those, Thug took a “blind plea”—that is, he let the judge decide his fate.

As a result, he was sentenced to 15 years of probation, and that probation comes with a long set of rules, sometimes called conditions, with the threat of 20 years of “back loaded” incarceration if he violates any of them.

In addition to eight rules that everyone sentenced to probation in Georgia has to obey, the judge gave Thugger a dozen “special conditions of probation” set up just for him. These include rules about staying out of the entire Metro Atlanta area except under very special circumstances; not associating with gang members or promoting gangs; staying away from guns; and lots more. Some also have exceptions built in—so he can, for example, be around his brother Unfoonk and Gunna, regardless of their gang or felon status.

Thug’s conditions are both numerous and vague. What exactly does it mean to “promote” a “criminal street gang?” Who will determine if he “has contact” with a “member or associate” of a gang? Could any of these conditions affect his music?

To get a handle on some of these questions, Complex reached out to Erin Haney. Haney is the chief policy officer at REFORM Alliance, an organization co-founded by Meek Mill after he had his own issues with probation. The group’s mission is “to transform probation and parole,” so Erin is right in the trenches, fighting to change laws state by state. She, as much as anyone, is intimately familiar with the types of conditions Thug will face for the next decade and a half—and the punishments that loom if he fails to abide by them. We spoke to Haney one day after Thug’s remarkable plea. She provided insight not only into Thug’s conditions, but into how they connect to the difficult situations faced by people on probation all over the country.

Before I get into specifics, take me back to when you first saw Young Thug’s conditions for yourself. What did you think?

I got a couple of messages saying, “Are you watching what’s going on? There’s an issue in the Young Thug case.” So as quickly as I could, I went to watch live to see if I could sus out what was happening.

Before even hearing the conditions, hearing that Jeffery Williams was going to enter into a blind plea—that is so unusual. That’s initially what stopped me in my tracks. Had we not been familiar with what a phenomenal legal team he had and how hard they had been fighting for him, that would raise concern. We just saw Judge Whitaker sentence Antonio Sledge to five years in custody on a violation, so to blind plea in front of that judge felt really scary.

Furthermore, to hear that plea negotiations were coming down to conditions, some of which seem to be somewhat standard in Georgia—that felt, again, really concerning. But because [Thug’s attorneys] are phenomenal lawyers and clearly care a ton about their client, the only thing you could figure at that point was that they must have incredible faith that this judge is going to do something better than the trap that the prosecution is laying with their offer of lengthy supervision and really onerous conditions.

And sure enough, it does appear that exceptions that the judge made, while still setting up a very tricky situation for Jeffery Williams, certainly appear to be what the defense was looking for, and something they think he can abide by.

I want to dig into some of these specific conditions. There’s one about how he can’t “knowingly have contact…with any other member or associate of a criminal street gang.” How is it determined who counts as a member or associate of a criminal street gang?

Great question. I think in many ways, that’s what this trial has been about: who counts as that and how do you define that? Your question implicitly asks not only, how is that enforceable; but maybe more importantly, how can somebody conform their conduct to the law? How can you do that if nobody is sure what that standard is? Clearly, as we saw through this trial, what one person thinks qualifies as a known gang member is different than what another person thinks qualifies.

Stepping back a little bit though, and connecting this to conditions in Georgia, everyone in Georgia who’s on probation gets these general standard conditions. They often aren’t even gone over in court—they’re that glossed over. One of those conditions prohibits you from associating or being in the company of “disreputable” people or places.

We should question the language in Jeffery Williams’ supervision conditions. What I think is really important, though, is also to recognize that the hundreds of thousands of people on supervision in Georgia have to abide by that clause [about avoiding “disreputable” people or places]. That’s very general. It’s usually read to mean you cannot be in the company of somebody else that has a felony on their record. That is a far more restrictive condition than what we heard from Judge Whitaker.

I do think the gang member condition is one that the judge changed to make it possible for a plea to go forward from the defense side. One of the biggest issues did sound like it was the exception for his brother and Gunna. And she says a very important thing at the end of that condition there’s an exception as absolutely necessary for your musical business.

It seems like part of what may be happening is, if he cannot so much as collaborate on a song with or be at a concert with another artist who has a felony conviction under that “disreputable persons” language, that would be incredibly difficult. Being able to say that you can do that to further lawful musical business is an important carve out.

There’s another condition, which is: “Defendant shall not utilize any hand sign, terminology or language that promotes or represents any criminal street gang, directly or indirectly.” Does this mean that Young Thug will not be able to perform his old songs?

I’ve also had people ask, what about wiping your nose? What can be difficult about these types of conditions is that, because they are so open to interpretation, it’s really difficult to know where they’re drawing the line. People often don’t know until they have stepped over that line.

What I think is really telling, though, is that when [Thug’s] attorneys talked right after the plea, even though they couldn’t disclose what the prosecution had offered in terms of conditions with their plea offer, they said the offer was so unconscionable and onerous as to make it impossible for Jeffery Williams to continue to be an artist.

So the fact that what the prosecution asked for got that strong of a reaction—so much so that they were willing to reject it—suggests there was still enough room with this condition you asked about for Jeffery Williams to feel confident that he could continue to be an artist and could continue to perform. Now, whether that means that there are certain songs that he changes portions to when he performs them, that may be one way that they do it.

There are other questions that aren’t always clear. For example, if YSL was determined to be a gang, and then disbanded and no longer exists as a gang, can you still not reference it? Does it have to be an active gang?

One of the things that Jeffery Williams really has going for him, in addition to his talent and resources and a number of other things, is that his attorneys are incredibly invested in his success. They are going to do everything they can to figure out how to allow Jeffery Williams to have as much creative freedom—and literal freedom—as possible within the confines of this order.

Why are these conditions, and ones in similar cases, so vague?

I think it’s almost a philosophical question. The average number of general standard conditions in the United States that attach to a supervision sentence is 14. That doesn’t even get into special conditions. That is the number of average rules that we are adding to somebody—ostensibly to help them succeed, but under threat of incarceration.

It’s usually not laws. There’s usually one catch-all, which is in Mr. Williams’ case as well, which says you cannot be in violation of any criminal law. That has been read to mean speeding, anything. So there’s one that is an actual law. But the rest of these are rules.

The reason why they are vague and broad and subjective is because these aren’t conditions that have had to go through the process of determining the lawful definition, as you would have to with an actual statute. They often mean different things for different defendants. One of the things REFORM works really hard on is making the argument that conditions have to be individualized. Having those general conditions is incredibly problematic because they are so broad and they function differently in different lives.

For example, if I’m a defendant who has multiple convictions for driving under the influence of alcohol, then maybe saying you can’t be in a bar or around alcohol makes sense. But if I’m a defendant whose crime didn’t have anything to do with alcohol, and whose brother and roommate work in a bar, the idea that that condition applies equally to me, and impacts whether or not I remain in the community or get locked up, just isn’t logical. It doesn’t serve any purpose to make us safer.

The judge in her conclusion was very forceful in trying to to implore Mr. Williams that he could be a part of the solution to gang activity in the community. Sometimes those conditions begin with good intentions. But what happens is, we don’t look at how they operate to impede success rather than encourage it.

What I do think we saw here, which is unusual, is we did see some individualizing. We did see taking those standard conditions that are broad and vague, and trying to think through how they would work in Mr. Williams’ life. Not just with the exception for gang members and convictions, but also with firearms. Normally there’s this blanket prohibition on firearms, especially because one of his charges related to firearms. But she made an explicit exemption for security who have the ability to carry firearms.

Travel is another huge one. One of the general conditions for people is that they cannot usually leave even the county, but definitely the state, without explicit permission from their supervision officer. She was very careful to note that it was important that he be able to not just keep his passport, but to travel for work. She put that right on the record, that he needs to be able to move. That’s something that was individualized.

There are ways, even with very broad conditions, that you can tailor them so they can work in a way that isn’t designed to immediately trap a person and get them thrown back in prison. I think that’s some of what we saw at work here.

One of Thug’s conditions is that he can’t live in Metro Atlanta, or even travel there except under very specific circumstances. If an alien were to come down from outer space and see that, their first reaction might be, “What do you mean a judge can tell someone where they can live?” It seems bizarre. Break that down for me.

Sure. Hilarious, by the way.

We have gotten so far afield from what the purpose of probation was, at least allegedly, and what conditions were intended to do, which were to help support people in their reentry. We’ve gotten into a punitive, controlling system where courts are ordering where you can live, where you can go, who you can see, whether you can go to a restaurant that serves alcohol, what time you need to be home. And these aren’t unusual situations. These are pretty run of the mill, standard conditions that we see across the nation.

To your alien comments, I think someone — or something — would be shocked by the conditions that are ordered. But it would pale in comparison to realizing that in 2019, more than half of the people who were going into prison were there not for breaking a law, but for violating one of these rules. The idea that we are putting you in a concrete cage because you didn’t abide by a rule—a rule that doesn’t appear to have a direct connection to safety, a rule that isn’t clearly defined, a rule that doesn’t deter the type of crime or behavior we’re concerned about—would be funny if it weren’t so incredibly damaging to millions of families across the country.

I have one last question. It seems like some of this stuff around conditions and violation can be performative. In some cases, it’s as if the judge has a very particular version of what being reformed looks like—and if that particular vision is not carried out, they are personally hurt by it. I’m curious if you think judges can get caught up in their image of what rehabilitation has to look like.

It’s that we currently have a system that encourages that. It’s not just judges or prosecutors. It’s a dominant narrative in society as a whole—we have a very particular idea of what a second chance means, of what redemption and rehabilitation needs to look like. So much so that we lose the most important part, which is: this system is supposed to help make communities safer. If it’s working well, that is what it would be doing. It is failing miserably. We know that this system does not do that. At its best, it just simply doesn’t work, and it’s horribly broken. At its worst, we have a system that we know makes things worse and we continue doubling down on it.

Changing conditions of supervision is not something that most people think of as radical or revolutionary, or making a huge difference. Yesterday was one of those times when we saw a real-life example of how it does. It really is the difference between being able to at least have a shot at success or being trapped into failure. That’s huge. So the more that we can focus on that, the more we can come up with just and supportive systems that don’t encourage punitive measures.

Meek Mill’s situation, which is why REFORM was born, was an example of exactly what you’re referring to, where a judge felt personally offended. For example, she had ordered him to do a certain type of community service at a certain place, and what she wanted him to do was serve food. He went to the community service place that he needed to go to. Instead of serving food, they had him fold clothing. And she wanted to violate him because she had said to serve food.

When we are giving people power like that to define all kinds of rules—again, not laws, but rules— that don’t have to be tethered to public safety or deterrents, and then we are giving them the ability to incarcerate people for violating those rules, we have inherently, whether you have a good judge or bad judge, good prosecutor or bad prosecutor, created a very tricky system that is going to be misused at times.

When the news came out last week that Young Thug was finally free, only a few diehards and spoilsports paid attention to the details. Yet those same details are now crucial to him staying out of jail.

Young Thug’s plea negotiations, according to his lawyers, broke down specifically because the state was willing to let him go free, but wanted to put “unconscionable” restrictions on the rapper. Instead of agreeing to those, Thug took a “blind plea”—that is, he let the judge decide his fate.

As a result, he was sentenced to 15 years of probation, and that probation comes with a long set of rules, sometimes called conditions, with the threat of 20 years of “back loaded” incarceration if he violates any of them.

In addition to eight rules that everyone sentenced to probation in Georgia has to obey, the judge gave Thugger a dozen “special conditions of probation” set up just for him. These include rules about staying out of the entire Metro Atlanta area except under very special circumstances; not associating with gang members or promoting gangs; staying away from guns; and lots more. Some also have exceptions built in—so he can, for example, be around his brother Unfoonk and Gunna, regardless of their gang or felon status.

Thug’s conditions are both numerous and vague. What exactly does it mean to “promote” a “criminal street gang?” Who will determine if he “has contact” with a “member or associate” of a gang? Could any of these conditions affect his music?

To get a handle on some of these questions, Complex reached out to Erin Haney. Haney is the chief policy officer at REFORM Alliance, an organization co-founded by Meek Mill after he had his own issues with probation. The group’s mission is “to transform probation and parole,” so Erin is right in the trenches, fighting to change laws state by state. She, as much as anyone, is intimately familiar with the types of conditions Thug will face for the next decade and a half—and the punishments that loom if he fails to abide by them. We spoke to Haney one day after Thug’s remarkable plea. She provided insight not only into Thug’s conditions, but into how they connect to the difficult situations faced by people on probation all over the country.

Before I get into specifics, take me back to when you first saw Young Thug’s conditions for yourself. What did you think?

I got a couple of messages saying, “Are you watching what’s going on? There’s an issue in the Young Thug case.” So as quickly as I could, I went to watch live to see if I could sus out what was happening.

Before even hearing the conditions, hearing that Jeffery Williams was going to enter into a blind plea—that is so unusual. That’s initially what stopped me in my tracks. Had we not been familiar with what a phenomenal legal team he had and how hard they had been fighting for him, that would raise concern. We just saw Judge Whitaker sentence Antonio Sledge to five years in custody on a violation, so to blind plea in front of that judge felt really scary.

Furthermore, to hear that plea negotiations were coming down to conditions, some of which seem to be somewhat standard in Georgia—that felt, again, really concerning. But because [Thug’s attorneys] are phenomenal lawyers and clearly care a ton about their client, the only thing you could figure at that point was that they must have incredible faith that this judge is going to do something better than the trap that the prosecution is laying with their offer of lengthy supervision and really onerous conditions.

And sure enough, it does appear that exceptions that the judge made, while still setting up a very tricky situation for Jeffery Williams, certainly appear to be what the defense was looking for, and something they think he can abide by.

I want to dig into some of these specific conditions. There’s one about how he can’t “knowingly have contact…with any other member or associate of a criminal street gang.” How is it determined who counts as a member or associate of a criminal street gang?

Great question. I think in many ways, that’s what this trial has been about: who counts as that and how do you define that? Your question implicitly asks not only, how is that enforceable; but maybe more importantly, how can somebody conform their conduct to the law? How can you do that if nobody is sure what that standard is? Clearly, as we saw through this trial, what one person thinks qualifies as a known gang member is different than what another person thinks qualifies.

Stepping back a little bit though, and connecting this to conditions in Georgia, everyone in Georgia who’s on probation gets these general standard conditions. They often aren’t even gone over in court—they’re that glossed over. One of those conditions prohibits you from associating or being in the company of “disreputable” people or places.

We should question the language in Jeffery Williams’ supervision conditions. What I think is really important, though, is also to recognize that the hundreds of thousands of people on supervision in Georgia have to abide by that clause [about avoiding “disreputable” people or places]. That’s very general. It’s usually read to mean you cannot be in the company of somebody else that has a felony on their record. That is a far more restrictive condition than what we heard from Judge Whitaker.

I do think the gang member condition is one that the judge changed to make it possible for a plea to go forward from the defense side. One of the biggest issues did sound like it was the exception for his brother and Gunna. And she says a very important thing at the end of that condition there’s an exception as absolutely necessary for your musical business.

It seems like part of what may be happening is, if he cannot so much as collaborate on a song with or be at a concert with another artist who has a felony conviction under that “disreputable persons” language, that would be incredibly difficult. Being able to say that you can do that to further lawful musical business is an important carve out.

There’s another condition, which is: “Defendant shall not utilize any hand sign, terminology or language that promotes or represents any criminal street gang, directly or indirectly.” Does this mean that Young Thug will not be able to perform his old songs?

I’ve also had people ask, what about wiping your nose? What can be difficult about these types of conditions is that, because they are so open to interpretation, it’s really difficult to know where they’re drawing the line. People often don’t know until they have stepped over that line.

What I think is really telling, though, is that when [Thug’s] attorneys talked right after the plea, even though they couldn’t disclose what the prosecution had offered in terms of conditions with their plea offer, they said the offer was so unconscionable and onerous as to make it impossible for Jeffery Williams to continue to be an artist.

So the fact that what the prosecution asked for got that strong of a reaction—so much so that they were willing to reject it—suggests there was still enough room with this condition you asked about for Jeffery Williams to feel confident that he could continue to be an artist and could continue to perform. Now, whether that means that there are certain songs that he changes portions to when he performs them, that may be one way that they do it.

There are other questions that aren’t always clear. For example, if YSL was determined to be a gang, and then disbanded and no longer exists as a gang, can you still not reference it? Does it have to be an active gang?

One of the things that Jeffery Williams really has going for him, in addition to his talent and resources and a number of other things, is that his attorneys are incredibly invested in his success. They are going to do everything they can to figure out how to allow Jeffery Williams to have as much creative freedom—and literal freedom—as possible within the confines of this order.

Why are these conditions, and ones in similar cases, so vague?

I think it’s almost a philosophical question. The average number of general standard conditions in the United States that attach to a supervision sentence is 14. That doesn’t even get into special conditions. That is the number of average rules that we are adding to somebody—ostensibly to help them succeed, but under threat of incarceration.

It’s usually not laws. There’s usually one catch-all, which is in Mr. Williams’ case as well, which says you cannot be in violation of any criminal law. That has been read to mean speeding, anything. So there’s one that is an actual law. But the rest of these are rules.

The reason why they are vague and broad and subjective is because these aren’t conditions that have had to go through the process of determining the lawful definition, as you would have to with an actual statute. They often mean different things for different defendants. One of the things REFORM works really hard on is making the argument that conditions have to be individualized. Having those general conditions is incredibly problematic because they are so broad and they function differently in different lives.

For example, if I’m a defendant who has multiple convictions for driving under the influence of alcohol, then maybe saying you can’t be in a bar or around alcohol makes sense. But if I’m a defendant whose crime didn’t have anything to do with alcohol, and whose brother and roommate work in a bar, the idea that that condition applies equally to me, and impacts whether or not I remain in the community or get locked up, just isn’t logical. It doesn’t serve any purpose to make us safer.

The judge in her conclusion was very forceful in trying to to implore Mr. Williams that he could be a part of the solution to gang activity in the community. Sometimes those conditions begin with good intentions. But what happens is, we don’t look at how they operate to impede success rather than encourage it.

What I do think we saw here, which is unusual, is we did see some individualizing. We did see taking those standard conditions that are broad and vague, and trying to think through how they would work in Mr. Williams’ life. Not just with the exception for gang members and convictions, but also with firearms. Normally there’s this blanket prohibition on firearms, especially because one of his charges related to firearms. But she made an explicit exemption for security who have the ability to carry firearms.

Travel is another huge one. One of the general conditions for people is that they cannot usually leave even the county, but definitely the state, without explicit permission from their supervision officer. She was very careful to note that it was important that he be able to not just keep his passport, but to travel for work. She put that right on the record, that he needs to be able to move. That’s something that was individualized.

There are ways, even with very broad conditions, that you can tailor them so they can work in a way that isn’t designed to immediately trap a person and get them thrown back in prison. I think that’s some of what we saw at work here.

One of Thug’s conditions is that he can’t live in Metro Atlanta, or even travel there except under very specific circumstances. If an alien were to come down from outer space and see that, their first reaction might be, “What do you mean a judge can tell someone where they can live?” It seems bizarre. Break that down for me.

Sure. Hilarious, by the way.

We have gotten so far afield from what the purpose of probation was, at least allegedly, and what conditions were intended to do, which were to help support people in their reentry. We’ve gotten into a punitive, controlling system where courts are ordering where you can live, where you can go, who you can see, whether you can go to a restaurant that serves alcohol, what time you need to be home. And these aren’t unusual situations. These are pretty run of the mill, standard conditions that we see across the nation.

To your alien comments, I think someone — or something — would be shocked by the conditions that are ordered. But it would pale in comparison to realizing that in 2019, more than half of the people who were going into prison were there not for breaking a law, but for violating one of these rules. The idea that we are putting you in a concrete cage because you didn’t abide by a rule—a rule that doesn’t appear to have a direct connection to safety, a rule that isn’t clearly defined, a rule that doesn’t deter the type of crime or behavior we’re concerned about—would be funny if it weren’t so incredibly damaging to millions of families across the country.

I have one last question. It seems like some of this stuff around conditions and violation can be performative. In some cases, it’s as if the judge has a very particular version of what being reformed looks like—and if that particular vision is not carried out, they are personally hurt by it. I’m curious if you think judges can get caught up in their image of what rehabilitation has to look like.

It’s that we currently have a system that encourages that. It’s not just judges or prosecutors. It’s a dominant narrative in society as a whole—we have a very particular idea of what a second chance means, of what redemption and rehabilitation needs to look like. So much so that we lose the most important part, which is: this system is supposed to help make communities safer. If it’s working well, that is what it would be doing. It is failing miserably. We know that this system does not do that. At its best, it just simply doesn’t work, and it’s horribly broken. At its worst, we have a system that we know makes things worse and we continue doubling down on it.

Changing conditions of supervision is not something that most people think of as radical or revolutionary, or making a huge difference. Yesterday was one of those times when we saw a real-life example of how it does. It really is the difference between being able to at least have a shot at success or being trapped into failure. That’s huge. So the more that we can focus on that, the more we can come up with just and supportive systems that don’t encourage punitive measures.

Meek Mill’s situation, which is why REFORM was born, was an example of exactly what you’re referring to, where a judge felt personally offended. For example, she had ordered him to do a certain type of community service at a certain place, and what she wanted him to do was serve food. He went to the community service place that he needed to go to. Instead of serving food, they had him fold clothing. And she wanted to violate him because she had said to serve food.

When we are giving people power like that to define all kinds of rules—again, not laws, but rules— that don’t have to be tethered to public safety or deterrents, and then we are giving them the ability to incarcerate people for violating those rules, we have inherently, whether you have a good judge or bad judge, good prosecutor or bad prosecutor, created a very tricky system that is going to be misused at times.