...it became personal

The following is an excerpt from the Introduction:



What are the implications of being cast into the hell we call prison? Imagine getting a phone call announcing that a loved one is arrested and confined without having broken the law? How might it feel to learn that your partner is locked up in the “care” of barbaric goons for having been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Your husband is crouched naked in a desolate, near freezing, padded cell. In retribution for a perceived indiscretion, someone arbitrarily accuses that “he did this to me,” or “she did that to me.” Your child lies in a puddle of his own blood, teeth smashed out. It is a case of mistaken identity but prison personnel will be certain that he “learns his lesson.” Your dad, accused of a crime not committed, is emotionally browbeaten on a daily basis. Your brother is tortured in solitary confinement because someone has decided to get even.

These are not comforting thoughts. They are, nonetheless, latent realities. It is easy to look at the corrections system with the attitude that “they made their bed, let them sleep in it,” or “they deserve whatever harsh treatment they get, they brought it upon themselves.” It is all too easy to adopt a position of “I do not give a shit what goes on behind bars.” When it is not personal, it is easy to not care. At least for me it was.

Then it became personal.