Texas—and the country—face a two-fold problem: an exploding mental health and substance abuse crisis and a dire shortage of professional social workers to address those issues. Yet rather than make it easier for qualified applicants to obtain social work licenses and start helping people, Texas is doing the opposite. In 2019, the state passed a lifetime ban prohibiting anyone with certain convictions from ever becoming a social worker. It’s a harsh solution to a non-existent problem. Before 2019, licensing authorities could already deny licenses when a criminal history made someone unsuitable to treat patients. But under the new law, even people who have turned their lives around after a decades-old conviction are shut out. And that’s why Katherin Youniacutt and Tammy Thompson, two Texas grandmothers denied the right to work under the new legislation, have joined up with the Institute for Justice (IJ) to fight back against this unconstitutional ban.

People who have overcome substance addiction and other forms of adversity are often the best qualified to help others beat similar challenges. First-hand experience is invaluable in guiding others through recovery. But addiction often leads to other mistakes, and so even those who have been sober for years may have convictions in their past.

Past mistakes don’t always tell you about who someone is today. But under Texas’s 2019 law, the past is all that matters. No amount of time, no wave of recommendation letters, no evidence of rehabilitation matters in Texas. The state still says that past mistakes disqualify you from helping others avoid those same missteps.

Katherin and Tammy found this out the hard way. Both women—now grandmothers living quiet suburban lives—struggled with addiction in the 2000s. And each woman pleaded guilty to a single assault conviction during that time, though neither was sentenced to any jail time. In the years since, Katherin and Tammy turned their lives around. They got clean, went back to school, and earned master’s degrees in social work. They even passed the state licensing exam. But when they submitted their final paperwork, the state licensing board told them that its hands were tied: under the ban, neither woman was eligible to become a social worker.

The Texas Constitution protects Texans’ right to earn an honest living in an occupation of their choosing without unreasonable government interference. Banning Katherin and Tammy from working isn’t reasonable—it just deprives people struggling with addiction and abuse of qualified, empathetic social workers. A victory will reaffirm Texas’s strong constitutional protections for economic liberty and vindicate the right to work without being weighed down by old, irrelevant convictions.

Case Team

Attorneys

Arif Panju

Managing Attorney of the Texas Office

Staff

Case Documents

Media Resources

Get in touch with the media contact and take a look at the image resources for the case.

Phillip Suderman Communications Project Manager [email protected]

Katherin’s and Tammy’s struggles with addiction

Katherin Youniacutt turned to alcohol at a young age to cope with clerical abuse she’d suffered as a child. And that same abuse frustrated her efforts to get sober throughout the 2000s—having faith in the recovery process is hard after such a profound betrayal of trust. Her alcohol use led to other mistakes, including an assault conviction. Late one night in 2007, an off-duty police officer approached her car at a gas station. When Katherin drove away, the officer claimed that she injured him. Katherin didn’t think that happened, but it was his word against hers. Katherin accepted responsibility and a plea deal and apologized to the officer. She was sentenced to probation and no jail time.

Tammy Thompson had a similarly turbulent 2000s. Fresh off a rough divorce, Tammy turned to methamphetamine to deal with the stress of suddenly being the primary breadwinner and caregiver for her children. Her sole conviction came from a 2006 incident at her father’s apartment complex. When Tammy arrived to pick up her father’s dog, a stranger refused to give it to her and threatened her with a bat. When others intervened, Tammy left. Two years later she found out that the stranger had claimed that she had injured him. Feeling like she had few options, Tammy accepted a plea in exchange for parole. But her continued meth use led her to violate the terms and spend two years in jail.

Katherin and Tammy turn their lives around and help others

Both Katherin and Tammy managed to pull themselves out of the spiral and get sober—Tammy in 2010, Katherin in 2011. For Tammy, time in jail reset her priorities and gave her a fresh start. She seized on the opportunity and got her GED, followed, when she got out, by her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in social work. Katherin, meanwhile, found her faith again. And with the help of her husband and a new church community, she finally entered recovery. Like Tammy, she felt called to help others still struggling with addiction and pursued social work, graduating with her master’s in 2022.

Katherin and Tammy share the same dream—to open social work clinics of their own, tailored to their communities and their expertise. And throughout their time in school the two women gained experience through jobs and internships that put them in direct contact with clients and patients. They had concerns about their criminal histories, so they both wrote to the Texas State Board of Social Worker Examiners to verify they were eligible for licenses. The Board confirmed they were. Although it would consider their criminal histories, it was also required by law to consider mitigating factors—such as evidence of rehabilitation. It would conduct an individualized assessment of who they were now, not who they were in the mid-2000s.

Confident that the Board would see how they turned their lives around, Katherin and Tammy took—and passed—the licensing exam. Then, without conducting any review or inquiry as it had promised, the Board denied their licenses.

Texas imposes a lifetime ban on Katherin and Tammy

The law had changed. Only a few months after the Board gave the green light to Katherin and Tammy, Texas passed a new law that banned many aspiring applicants for life (Section 108.052 of the Texas Occupations Code). Under the ban, many convictions now bypassed the Board’s individualized assessment. Now the Board’s hands are tied—if an applicant was ever convicted of a felony involving the use of force (or certain other crimes), they must be denied no matter the past or present circumstances.

Unfortunately for Katherin and Tammy, their single assault convictions qualified. As the Board explained in its denial letters, it had no discretion to grant them licenses. Unlike before, the Board could not consider the decade-plus that had elapsed since their convictions. It could not consider that both women had only one disqualifying conviction. And it had to ignore the “dumbfounded” letters of recommendation urging the Board to reverse course and license both women. Letters that declared Katherin “one of the very best individuals I have ever known” and lauded Tammy’s “strong moral and family values.” So long as the ban remains in force, however, Katherin and Tammy can never be social workers.

Katherin and Tammy were undaunted and continue to look for ways to help others even without licenses. And both women have been valued employees at healthcare facilities that wish they could hire them as full social workers to treat patients. It’s no wonder—their help is sorely needed. A 2024 Texas Tribune article exposed the severe “mental health workforce shortage” in the state. As the article noted, “[s]ocial workers are often the first point of contact for many people looking for mental health help,” yet “91 Texas counties lack access to licensed clinical social workers” and “74 counties lack licensed master social workers,” the title that Katherin and Tammy applied for. The need is staggering, and the 2019 ban will only make things worse.

Katherin and Tammy aren’t the only ones impacted—each of them knows former classmates who are similarly banned. There’s no telling how many people across the state are prevented from using their education and experience to help people because of the law. That’s why Katherin and Tammy are working with IJ to challenge the law—not only to get their own licenses, but to vindicate the rights of many others who are or will be affected. And the Texas Constitution is on Katherin and Tammy’s side.

Legal claims

Texas’s criminal history ban violates the state constitution in two ways.

First, the Due Course of the Law of the Land Clause prevents the government from imposing oppressive and unreasonable burdens on Texans’ right to earn an honest living in an occupation of their choice, free from oppressive and unreasonable government interference. And the ban does just that. It imposes a permanent, lifetime restriction on licensure with no consideration of individual circumstances or mitigating factors. That’s unconstitutional. Thankfully, the fix is simple—repeal the ban. Without it, the Social Work Board can resume granting and denying licenses based on the person in front of them, not just criminal records more than a decade old.

Second, the Equal Rights Clause prevents the government from treating similarly situated people differently—precisely what Texas did when it subjected some people and therapeutic professions to the ban, but not others. If you can be a Licensed Professional Counselor with a criminal record (and you can), then you can be a social worker too.

Case team

Katherin and Tammy are represented by IJ Attorneys James Knight and Andrew Ward.

IJ’s fight for a fresh start

This case is part of IJ’s fight against laws that keep people with convictions from earning an honest living. One in three Americans has a criminal record, and they need to support themselves. Yet, nationwide, there are tens of thousands of laws that make it harder for people with criminal histories to take their first steps on the economic ladder. Not only does that harm people trying to turn their lives around, it potentially places a burden on the community to support them when they’re unable to find a job. Thankfully, there is a growing consensus across the political spectrum that harsh restrictions like this aren’t working. Permanent punishment shouldn’t be the default. People change, and when they do, they deserve a fresh start.

Still, far too many of these permanent punishment laws remain on the books. IJ—a nonprofit, public-interest law firm—is the national law firm for liberty, and it has been protecting the right to work from unreasonable government restrictions for three decades. As part of that mission, IJ is leading the charge against permanent punishment laws on multiple fronts. In Pennsylvania, IJ won its challenge to a law requiring would-be cosmetologists to prove they had “good moral character” to work in skincare. In Tennessee, IJ stopped the FCC from revoking the broadcast license of Knoxville’s only Black-owned radio station because of the owner’s misstatement on his personal tax papers more than a decade earlier. And in Maryland, IJ halted a USDA policy banning retail store owners with convictions related to alcohol, drugs, or firearms from accepting SNAP payments.

Beyond litigation, IJ’s legislative team has released the most up-to-date survey of occupational licensing barriers for people with criminal histories; developed a model “Collateral Consequences in Occupational Licensing Act”; and helped pass reforms in MinnesotaOhioSouth Carolina, and other states.