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This episode is brought to you by Shopify. Do you have a point of sale system you can trust, or is it a real POS? You need Shopify for retail. From accepting payments to managing inventory, Shopify POS has everything you need to sell in person. Go to shopify.com slash system, all lowercase, to take your retail business to the next level today. That's shopify.com slash system.
Hi, everybody. It's Deborah Roberts, co-anchor of 2020. We're bringing you more 2020 each week with the 2020 True Crime Vault. That's right. You're going to hear a story pulled from our archives, shows that we just can't seem to get out of our heads. And we think you're going to be drawn in, too. Thanks for listening. Coming up, a nation of women behind bars. We're all in here for stealing, killing, not us.
From the Little League mom... I'm not different than any other woman. To the lifer... 36 years growing up in here. To the youngest woman on death row... No, we call it life row. Life row? Why? Because we're not dying, we're living. Diane Sawyer goes inside... And you pulled the trigger, what were you thinking? From the moment they enter... Go ahead, take your clothes off. I was scared. To the day they're set free... Am I afraid? Absolutely.
Because I've been locked up for such a long time. Come on, James, I gotta move, I gotta see what I got. Nerves on edge. Who is the most dangerous for the security of everyone? All inmates can be dangerous for something like that.
Making do with what they've got. Your kitchen, your bathroom, and your living room, and your bedroom's all in the same room. What are the rules about sex? Not when you're gay. You're just what they call it, gay for the stay. Flashes of despair. I get angry. I get angry fast. And glimmers of hope. A nation of women behind bars.
I'm John Quinones. Coming up, a very special hour, eight months in the making. Diane Sawyer and her team traveled to four prisons across the United States, speaking with the women doing time and the wardens and officers who control their daily lives. It's a powerful journey into a world seldom seen and largely forgotten.
The United States is incarcerating more people than any other country in the world. People serving long sentences and women are coming into prison at a faster rate than men. More and more people in the country on all political sides agree it's time to ask about the giant human and financial cost.
We are not here to excuse anyone's crime, but come with us now and tell us what you think. Four female prisons, eight months, a journey into a kind of foreign country right here at home. Across America, there is a nation of women living behind bars. 200,000, far more than any other country on the planet.
Whole world shattered. We're all in here for stealing, killing, something. When we first came here, I was suicidal. You enter the closed universe through a labyrinth of doors, security, the body check to make sure you're bringing nothing in. After that, gates, barbed wire. This prison is in Maryland. So this is basically the door to the rest of your life. A life filled with prison codes and mystery.
where a woman who looks like your best friend or your absent-minded aunt or someone on the dean's list can have caused pain or damage and have an awful secret here you look at the inmate today and wonder about the woman she used to be in that second before she knew she had become a prisoner go ahead
Go ahead, take your clothes off, one at a time. Officers give the order to strip naked. Let me see the bottom of your feet. I was scared. Clothes off, you're told to squat. Cough. Turn, face me. Open your mouth, lift up your tongue. I was scared of that. Cough. When you cough, it releases the muscles. So if they are hiding anything inside,
inside of them, it will shock. Cigarettes, drugs, you name it. It's clear some prisoners don't want us around. So who are the women here in this vast continent of prison? 63% are in for nonviolent crimes like drugs and theft. Black women are still incarcerated at a higher rate than white women, two to one.
But the rate is closing because of the new population here. White women, many driven here by prescription drugs. They are young and old. And women like Nicole Kester, who says don't be sure her story couldn't happen to anyone. Watching you on Good Morning America, I was thinking about that today. I was like, every morning, that's who you and Charlie, that's every morning, that's who I watch getting...
ready for work and getting the kids' lunches back. A loving husband, three kids, a good job, as the manager of a car company. She was a Little League mom. One day, a painful car accident, an OxyContin prescription. And when those pills got too expensive, she turned to something cheaper, heroin. And it just happened. What do you mean, just happened? It was for pain, and then I realized it made everything so easy. She stole checks to pay for drugs. Nicole
Nicole Kester now has a sentence of 13 and a half years. Her husband comes to see her. She's only seen one of her children, her eldest son. He's the only one that talks to me. But I mean, I ruin their lives. I'm no different than any other woman here. None of them.
You know, we're all in here. Here, not only in large numbers, but with long sentences. In the last seven years, a 14% increase in the women given life. They're called toe taggers. So we head out to find the woman named Irena Priddy, who's been in prison longer than any other woman in the state of Maryland, 36 years. 36 years growing up in here. Do you still remember the day you walked in? While I'm doing a life sentence.
It finally hit me that I was here for the rest of my life. When she came here, she was 18 years old. She says from a home filled with abuse. I was a little scared kid. All I wanted was attention.
I wanted somebody to love me. She says she met a boy, and with his friend, they set out to rob the store where she worked, and she admits she was there for the robbery. This is Eyewitness News. Three people accused of the murder of a Northwest Baltimore grocer this week. Irena Priddy's boyfriend shot the store owner and the clerk. She says a few years back, she asked to be executed. In 2003, I wrote Governor Ehrlich, and...
I asked him for lethal injection. You asked? Yes, because of the victim's family and everybody. I wanted them to know that I was sorry for the crime that I had committed. We reached out to the family of the store owner who died. They know we've talked to her. We've not heard back. The pain is that when my boyfriend told me to tie them up and I saw it in their eyes,
They didn't want -- they said, "Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me." And I told them to just listen to what he tells them to do, and nobody was going to die. So I had to live with that, too. JUDY WOODRUFF: Here in prison, Arena Pretty got a college degree. A previous warden and a supervising officer have argued for her release. Are you still dangerous? ARENA PRETTY: No, ma'am. JUDY WOODRUFF: She wonders if America is ready to let her try again. ARENA PRETTY: It would be nice to be freed.
Just give me another second chance because I have done so much to better myself. At the end of the day for this older prisoner, we head over to another cell block. It's filled with the newcomers and more rebellious inmates, nicknamed the Hood. Inside, raucous energy, a kind of pandemonium. It's just definitely, you can't figure out exactly what's behind it.
Some of the inmates are trying to watch movies on television, but they say you can't hear. Yeah, you don't hear the movies, you just read the captions. Others are playing games, others are lining up for the 30 minutes you get on the telephone. But when I ask the crowd, who is the best singer here? When she walks up, the noise starts to subside. Her name is Alvera Brown, Pumpkin, serving eight years for robbery. She sings a famous spiritual. Good I see you. Thank you. Thank you.
On the walls, graffiti. Messages from some of the thousands of women who were here before. I was here, but now I'm gone. I left my name to carry on. Those who know me, know me well. Those who don't can go to hell.
Just me. Next the secrets and codes behind bars and dual between officers and women in prison. Can you tell me what was going on here. And later the youngest woman on death row.
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This episode is brought to you by Shopify. Do you have a point of sale system you can trust, or is it a real POS? You need Shopify for retail. From accepting payments to managing inventory, Shopify POS has everything you need to sell in person. Go to shopify.com slash system, all lowercase, to take your retail business to the next level today. That's shopify.com slash system.
It's like the TV show Orange is the New Black. By day, so many officers, so many women. An ocean of conspiracies, currency, and contraband. Where the cigarettes at? No, no, no, no, no, no. You ain't taking that fruit out of here. By the way, the inmates can't see Orange is the New Black in prison because it costs money on Netflix. What is this, red is black? Black is, what is it? It's...
24 hours a day they're trying to figure out how to get it in. Eight hours a day we're trying to figure out how to stop them. Drugs, contraband. In Maryland, random cell searches try but can't catch everything. Where are you looking? What are you? Every inch in, every crevice. When you look at a room, you suddenly realize there's an infinity of places that you can store things. The smallest switch is an opportunity. There's a screw at the top and they screw it out and they stick stuff up.
There can be drugs hidden in the soft tongue of a tennis shoe. The toilet paper holder and also the toilet itself. Officers smell everything in the cell. Making sure it is what it is. If it's soap, it's supposed to be soap. Smells like butter, it's not supposed to be in here. Other prisoners in the past have made what looks like candy. What's that? A homemade lollipop. At one point they were melting.
They're the drugs down and making it a lot... yeah. As we filmed, no drugs found in this cell. Captain Kevin Branch is an investigator and says the hot drug in prison is called boxes. It's suboxone, a chemical which mimics the effects of hair wear. It can be found in strips as thin as cellophane. He shows us how one was sneaked in under a stamp on a letter. Under the stamp? Under the stamp. That's a box in there.
Officers search for it like needles in a stack of hundreds of letters and magazines. As you look at the paper, you see this clear square. Looks strange to us. We tore the whole thing apart. And inside is a suboxone strip. And one strip of suboxone enough to keep you high for eight hours. And the cost? $80 to $100.
Well, on the street, they only cost $6. And inmates in Tennessee will pay $200 for cigarettes, $1,200 for a cell phone. You do know how they bring the phones in, right? God's pocketbook. God's pocketbook is prison lingo for the word vagina. There's also a technique known as the dip. Checking for any contraband. They like to hide stuff in their dip. In front of your pants, they call your dip. The dip is anywhere right in this area. They hide contraband.
I'm searching. Turn around. They'll see me and they'll get to scattering. Lieutenant Anderson in Maryland has her own constant patrol. When I do the searches, I'm looking for notes, drugs. In their breasts, are you? Inside their panties, in their hairs. Officers and women sometimes opposing armies. Come on, James. I got to move. I got to see what I got. A prison employee needs help. Can you tell me what was going on here? No, I can't. I'm not a liberty discus. Who is the most dangerous for the security of everyone?
How in these can you damage yourself like that? Wear your shirt not in. Step over here. Captain Valerie Hampton has been an expert on the duel in prison and manipulation for 30 years, saying sometimes the officers become co-conspirators. Starting salary for an officer in Tennessee, $25,000. In Maryland, $38,000. We have procedures that we set up to catch these bad people.
and we deal with them. - These young inmates are using art class pencils for makeup, it's allowed, but they say a prisoner will pay a fortune to get real lip gloss from the outside. So how do they do it? - You just gotta know somebody that knows somebody.
Officer bring it in, we buy it, and we sell it. Officially, the women accumulate 17 cents to $2.50 an hour from prison jobs, like yard work, sewing flags. They also have $50 to $75 credit at the commissary, a kind of small store of packaged goods, which they can use for bartering, since pretty much all prisoners told us they hate prison food. I don't eat what I can't recognize. Good morning, ladies.
Good morning. So we go behind the walls into the kitchen. You've got a lot of hair like me, so we better get you a red one, okay? Jennifer tells us every item here can be traded for cash or a favor. Everything's for sale. Cheese, things that we don't get on commissary, those are for sale. Especially fresh fruit. Put sugar in it, keep it warm. You can make alcohol, prison hooch. Here they call it
Jump. Make sure y'all don't have no apples and oranges on you today. Wouldn't want y'all making no julep. They're tiny rooms. This inmate, 5 foot 3 inches tall, shows us how tiny. This is it. The thing that constant smells, strong smells, ammonia, people, life.
cooking. In every cell, someone seems to have made a specialty from items in the commissary. This is called foreplay. It's so good, like you just can't put it down. Your kitchen, your bathroom, and your living room, and your bedroom's all in the same room. Are there good manners that you use with the toilet? I do, but not everybody does. I guess that's all in how you're raised. Grown women, tiny space, so many years. And something else you see on Orange is the New Black.
That's how much I love my girl. As the show points out, no code in prison is more mysterious or complex than the one governing sex and relationships. For some prison veterans, what's happening is simply shocking. They said to me that it's the way it is out there now, Miss Pretty. And I'm like, and this is all right? No.
I mean, you're gay. You're just what they call it, gay for the stay. You may not be able to do all the things that a man can do for you, but you still get that companionship. You still get the physical needs. Those people, like, absolutely swear, oh, they'd never do it, they'd never do it. And now they are. And then they end up arguing and fighting and acting and crying, like, and they're so in love, like, no, you're
- You're not even gay. - In prison language, dom and fem, dominant and feminine, and everyone says inmates can find places to be alone. - It's called beating a compound. It just is, you make your way. Depending on how the officer
you know, perceives it. Right. There's physical contact, don't you, aren't there still penalties for that? Come on, Miss Diane, you know I'm not going to say none of that. Finding places in Tennessee. In the closets, the laundry rooms, there's no cameras. In the freezer, in the kitchen, and I've caught two in the chapel. And in Maryland, too. But the warden tells us this is not just a game. What are the rules about sex? We don't recognize it.
consensual sex. There's no such thing. And we're told this is where a woman's prison can be dangerous too. And that is what will get you more in trouble here more than anything else are the girlfriends. That's what most of the fights are. The warden in Tennessee spots a binder clip in a prison cell used for constructing a sex toy. I found a binder clip that they can't have. Can you show me? Let me see. No, we're not going to do that. That's a security issue.
And when you leave, your secret goes with you. It's almost like what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. What happens in the penitentiary stays in the penitentiary. Coming up next, a sorority girl devoted to her faith and family. Now, the only place they can see her is in prison. As a parent, you can imagine a lot of things that might happen to your child that you don't ever think about this.
This is life behind bars, not even parole until she turns 85. What she did when we return.
Hi all, Kate Gibson here of The Bookcase with Kate and Charlie Gibson. This week we talked to Whoopi Goldberg about lots of things. But one of the things we talked to her about is how as a science fiction and graphic novel fan, she never saw herself on those screens or on those pages growing up. I mean, I didn't realize that part of me until I watched Star Trek. And I saw it because I love sci-fi.
And for some reason, it never occurred to me that I was missing until I was present. You're not going to want to miss this episode of The Bookcase from ABC News. Two little girls who raise hard questions about crime, mental illness, and women in prison. Lindsay sang in the choir at church, a college graduate who worked at a dentist's office while living at home with her parents. She helped nurse her mother through a brain tumor. An ideal daughter in a very Christian family.
On visiting day, her younger sister Lacey, then mom and dad come. Mom is a travel agent, he's the manager of an automotive dealership. And every Sunday, this has become their church. Father in heaven, we're thankful for this day. You know, as a parent, you can imagine a lot of things that might happen to your child that you don't want to happen. Daddy loves you. But you don't ever think about this.
This, the life that began one day at home when Lindsay's mother walked toward her laundry basket. She did the unthinkable. Local coverage descended on the story of the newborn twins found there no longer alive. The parents didn't even know their daughter was pregnant. This is a police tape of Lindsay Lowe. My family's very conservative Christian people. I just didn't want to do the police. I didn't want to do the police.
She says to keep them quiet, she put her hands over the babies' mouths. Lindsay's parents and lawyers say it's clear she had a psychotic break. She wasn't hiding the crime. She left the babies at home. Dissociative symptoms, confusion, delirium, and stupor. She was on suicide watch after her arrest. Then, after the verdict. We, the jury, found the defendant guilty of first-degree felony murder.
She turns toward her stricken family and mouths, "I'm okay." The 26-year-old woman will not even be able to see a parole officer until she is 85. At the Tennessee prison, she's on medication, joining the 63% of inmates here who line up for pills as many as three times a day. That's three hours. It's hell. That's what happens when mental health breaks down.
It is one of the biggest differences between male and female prisons. Nearly 60% of women come in after physical or sexual abuse. For men, it's just 16%. For Marilyn, for those who are mentally ill and in crisis, a suicide watch. These patients are placed in a kind of isolation, bare cells for their protection. No sheets, pillows allowed, only smocks. If you have a long-sleeved shirt, there's a possibility of strangling yourself.
But the question, should this be the role of America's prisons? Housing an estimated 10 times the number of mentally ill as America's hospitals. Here, there are some medical personnel, but inmates stand watch day and night. In the last five years, despite attempts... How you feeling today? There have been no deaths by suicide. Heavenly Father, we just want to pray, Lord. Amen.
And across the country, more bare cells for those with anger and impulse control problems, who threaten violence against officers and other inmates. Here in Washington state, prisoners chained to chairs and desks. Angry. Attending a class on using words instead of fists. Worried and anxious. Here too, stone walls, stone beds, stone desks. A constant din of haunting howls on the corridor.
In one cell, Ana Castellano, alcoholic mother, foster care, sexual abuse. I get angry. I get angry fast. Before prison, she attempted suicide. She wonders about other lives. Like, just normal people out there, you know? Like, what am I doing wrong? I think that they come home from a good job and see their wife or whatever and just have a home, a bed, a place to sleep, happy, ice cream, pizza, you know?
In the two decades I've been covering prisons, there has been a growing controversy about the use of solitary, which prisons call segregation.
There is also a change in access. It was a long night. I won't say it wasn't. Someone's praying down the hall. Today, more secrecy, concern about security. You can't go inside. But in the windows, I can see the faces of women trying to hold on to something on the outside. Two teachers come with lessons in grammar, math. Okay, I'm back. Today's lesson...
has to do with the commas. He even leaves a homework assignment. And you can try and have that done tomorrow. Okay? All right, bye. Can you read about rectangles right there? Rectangles are everywhere. You would think they would say, "Why bother? Why bother? I'm here."
Back in Maryland, we go to meet that other little girl in the photo you saw earlier. Her name, Celilah Stokes. She spent four years on and off the unit called Segregation. I ended up busting her head open, coming out of my cuffs. She's been diagnosed depressive bipolar, says she grew up in poverty and joined a gang because she wanted to have the fancy things other kids did.
She was convicted of three attempted murders and in a moment of rage aimed a gun at a girl who survived. How close were you? A couple feet. When you pulled the trigger, what were you thinking? I wasn't thinking. Did you think you'd killed her? I don't know. I don't know. I just, have you ever had an out-of-body experience where you see yourself but you're not actually there? You don't hear anything, you don't smell anything. It's just like tunnel vision.
That's how it was. At the end of her sentence, Lila Stokes will be 69 years old. But there's something else you should know about the little girl in that picture. She was so bright, she was singled out for scholarship money and said to a reporter she was excited at a better chance of college. What would you have been? What would you have studied? Oh man, anesthesiology. Why that? I just think I like meticulous things.
So that would be something that would challenge my mind. She's on medicine and therapy now, a room full of books. I'm going to prove myself, prove that I can be, that I've changed. And when she offers up her dream of freedom, it was not what we expected. The sweetest thing of freedom is to actually be able to be yourself.
That's the sweetest thing, to see freedom is up here. To be in control of yourself. Exactly. In "Invisible Man" by Ralph Ellison, he says, "I am only but myself." And when we reached out to the woman Celilah Stokes attempted to kill with that gun, she told us she believes in forgiveness.
And Warden Margaret Chippendale in Maryland says she thinks only a handful of prisoners are beyond change. Good morning, all. Good morning, good morning. I believe that the vast majority of the women in this institution are good people that could be returned to the community someday. Good job. And if I don't believe that, I'm in the wrong profession. If it's punishment... Well, first of all, I'm going to take the position that it's not my job to punish. The courts did that.
And back in Tennessee, a volunteer choir director named Tina Hutchison says if you can't understand the prisoner, try to understand the struggle. They teach me more than I could ever teach them about what it is to survive, to endure. I want to know a song can rise from the ashes of a broken life and all that's dead inside can be hide away.
32 states in America have the death penalty. We're divided, so the state in which the crime is committed can determine your fate. There are about 3,000 men on death row and 55 women. We decided to look at this part of prison by tracking down the youngest women facing that sentence.
Ocala, Florida, at the Lowell Correctional Institution. Two young women come down the hall, waving, smiling together like girlfriends. Hi, guys. How are you? They are Tiffany Cole, now 33, Amelia Carr, now 30. Two separate crimes, two separate lives until they became neighbors on the notorious corridor. Do you call it death row? No, we call it life row. It's life row. Life row? Why? Because we're not dying, we're living.
Do you ever think I might be executed? No. You can't have that mentality because that means you've accepted this. You've already done. Yeah, you cannot have that mentality. Two women, neither of whom had ever spent a night in jail before. Living lives so familiar, Tiffany played the flute in high school, cheerleading, Girl Scouts. Amelia books smart and says she modeled and was in the school Marines. Both say they were sexually abused as children and both met the wrong guy.
Tiffany says she barely knew her boyfriend. Three weeks. Three weeks. And had you ever been in trouble? Mm-mm. It is hard to connect the face in these photos to the horrible crime committed with her boyfriend and his friends, neighbors of her family first robbed, then buried alive in a grave. I didn't know what was coming, and that's all I'm going to say about that.
Her lawyer told the court Tiffany Cole thought the grave was for items they were stealing. He also talked about that sexual abuse by her father and her drugs, her mental and psychological problems. The jury saw a damning photo after the crime. They convicted her. I am not the same person anymore. I have peace. I have joy. I have a sound mind.
And Amelia, the youngest woman on death row convicted of another horrifying murder, helping her boyfriend suffocate his wife with duct tape and plastic bag. There is a police tape of Amelia after her boyfriend confessed she's eight months pregnant with his child. He asked me to try and stop him. I was shaking so bad.
She admits she was there, but says not when the wife was actually killed. Her lawyer argued there was no physical evidence that she had even touched the duct tape. But when the judge gave her her sentence, he called her cold and said, may God have mercy on your soul. The duct tape, the asphyxiation, what do you feel? In what aspect? Like reflecting? Yes. Yes.
They say they are reluctant to talk to tales of the crimes because they're both appealing their sentences. It's hard to answer because it's like I wasn't where all that happened. But looking back and thinking about what she had to go through and, you know, what her family is enduring is terrible. And they asked some questions of us about the justice system. A study estimates one in 25 people on death row is innocent of the crime.
And 75% have no money for private lawyers. Amelia says she had no money, but her boyfriend hired a high-powered attorney. He got life. She got death. How many rich people are in prison? Seriously, seriously. On death row, life sentences. We're all people who are either minorities or didn't have any money. Unfortunately, equality is an illusion.
And before we leave, she has another question, this one about TV. I have a question. Why do you think there's such a desire to make women look so bad in the media? You know? They watch endless crime stories about women who kill. Like Jodi Arias, you know, that thing went huge. I don't understand. Why does America want so bad to feed off of this negativity?
The young women get up to go back to their cells 24 hours a day, except for the three times a week they're outside on concrete for two hours. In a different building, the chamber where Florida executes death row inmates. Across America, there have been five executions of women in the last decade. And when we contacted the victims' families in both these crimes, they told us they believe the death penalty is right.
The women said they will go back to their books and their prayers. I'm praising God in the process, you know, and just showing people we're people. It's not over. There is forgiveness and there is hope. Next, a closer look at one prison with a focus on humanity. Watch what happens when these women break free when we return.
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A 53-year-old woman, Betty Brown, is leaving prison after 29 years. The wardens say women age faster in prison. Am I scared? Am I afraid? Absolutely. Because I've been locked up for such a long time. But I'm going to be all right. America has an unprecedented number of older women serving long sentences in prison. Betty's blood pressure is high. She's on seizure medications.
In for second-degree murder, she was a mentor over the years for Celilah Stokes. Oh, Betty. You always cry. It's going to be all right. Let me tell you something. The same way that I made it, you're going to make it. This one prisoner has cost taxpayers more than a million dollars during her incarceration. And after all these years, Betty is taking with her $50, five boxes of books, and a thank you for the warden. Miss Chippendale.
Mr. Kumakamase, it was nice knowing you. Thank you very much. Just a few more steps. I gotta make it. I made it this far. Real air.
real air. Warden Chippendale has nearly 90 programs in Maryland. Makes a difference when they leave? I think it makes a huge difference. Experts say education reduces recidivism by 43%. Goucher College offers classes in Maryland, but there's a waiting list. In addition to the programs, Warden Chippendale says something else is important: keeping a woman connected to humanity.
Their big night, the prison version of Dancing with the Stars. It's just like in the TV show. You know, the wave. Prisoners with good behavior can apply to compete. I practice every day, even in my cell. This inmate is really nervous. She was an older lady than me, so I was like, oh no, I cannot drop this lady.
So the officers bring the clothes and look at the transformation before, after, before, after. Inmates facing decades in prison as rock stars. Look at technique.
I look at synchronization and choreography. They dance, and the judges, who include the assistant warden and officers, vote. The prize, some small things we might take for granted. Two fries, salt. The winner is the oldest contestant. She's 48. It makes me feel happy instead of being negative all the time. And so what is the recidivism rate in Maryland? 40.5% in 2012. The latest national rate is 68%.
And I think it is because we've invested time, we've invested money and talent into providing resources for offenders. Hold up right there. But as we said, every state has a different philosophy. Tennessee believes prisoners should be rigidly controlled in how they walk and dress. So the female offenders walk in a straight line. They have their hands out of their pockets, and that's for a safety reason. They also have programs in Tennessee, about 27 of them.
And their recidivism rate here? The latest published data is from 2007. It's 46%. And while I'm there at Tennessee, I start talking to a prisoner who's about to be released. Excuse me, I'm going to have to record this. She has to be behind the barrier when she talks to you at the door. She'll have to be sitting with her feet. That's our policy. Do you have a favorite book here? I think Augustine Burroughs. I like Possible Side Effects. He wrote Running with Scissors. Yes. I love him.
Later at breakfast, Jessie Thomas tells me about her medications, Pamalor, Prozac, Tegretol, for mental health problems. One's for depression, one's for bipolar, and one's for...
anxiety and ADHD. She's in prison for theft and says she started using drugs as a teenager. Jessie also tells me she found a soulmate in prison, but her soulmate is in for 25 years. I love you. It's just a really healthy relationship. To live is to suffer. To survive is to find meaning in the suffering. So on the day she walks out, she has $68, three T-shirts, a few notes from her girlfriend.
And even though she's supposed to be given 14 days of medication, she says she has nothing. A younger sister picks her up. Their first stop, Taco Bell. Can I have a cheesy gordita crunch? But the sister can only keep her one night. Jessie says she wrote halfway houses, shelters, job centers, but two rejected her and the others didn't answer. In the car, a favorite song. ♪ Feel like you still have a choice ♪
If we all light up, we can scare away the dark. Starting fresh, starting over. I see it really overwhelming. On her first night free, she records a video diary. A lot of options, and I'm scared to make the bad ones. I'm scared to make the wrong ones, so I don't want to make any. I don't know what to do to distract myself. The only thing I've ever really done is really just get high. Maybe I'll get some sleep.
Maybe I'll just lay here and think about sleeping. Experts say the first month out of prison is the most important. Jessie says it was nine days after she walked out she finally got her medication and she's already missed 20 doses. She got a job washing dishes, but 34 days after her release, police charged Jessie with robbing two pharmacies to get money for street drugs. Jessie is back in jail.
We have been looking into what other Western countries are doing, and we discovered they tend to use more fines, treatment and support programs for nonviolent offenders instead of incarceration. And they say it's more effective. While here at home, advocates of prison reform say that approach would cost a fraction of what we spend every year on prisons and would be better at preventing crime.
You'll remember Nicole Kester, who started out on prescription drugs. Her husband Tracy makes the two and a half hour drive every week to spend 60 minutes with her. She's my girl. She's always going to be my girl. Better or worse, remember? Yeah. A 13 and a half year sentence, she's eligible for a parole hearing in May. Are they here? On another day, Irena Pretty, who served 36 years, waiting to see her nine-year-old grandson.
Look at you, you're looking like your mama. I'm going to take you places and it's going to be me and you going all over the place. I'm just going to smuggle you. Why can't we call you? Because it's a special phone and it don't take in calls. You understand it? If I had a cell phone, I'd be like... Irena is eligible for a parole hearing in June, but it will be her fifth try.
And someone else is waiting. Remember Celilah Stokes? Her mom comes with her 93-year-old grandmother, who has had two strokes. She loves me. I know that. And I love her, too. I'll bet you. What's up, Mama? Give me sugar. You my baby. Don't cry. Don't cry. Hold your tears.
You doing okay? Yes, ma'am. We do a little game or competition on how much I love you more. You know, just trying to make me feel it, just to know that someone loves me. I love you more than all of the leaves on the pages in every book that has been printed. I love you more than all the holes in every vent in every prison in the entire universe. Boom.
Ah, we got holes in the bitch! I still think my books beat that, though. I really do. Karen's time of visit is now over. You gotta go. You gotta go. It's time for us to go. Oh, so huge. So Lila Stokes knows with her full sentence, it will be 43 years before she leaves. Love you. She'll be 69. Everybody I love will be gone. I should.
bullets pierce. Handcuffs are tight, cells are lonely. At this moment across America, hundreds of thousands of women getting ready for the sound of the door locking again. You're just asking for a little understanding. For us, towards you, and for you, towards us. Yes, I'll radio once again soon. There'll be no more inmate movement for tonight.
Is it time to look at America's prison system? What is sustainable? What works? And one thing is clear to me, after 20 years of reporting, these questions are only getting bigger. We want to thank the wardens who led us in their institutions, and we want to thank all of you who joined us here tonight. Good night.
This is Deborah Roberts. Since this story was originally broadcast in 2015, we've got updates on many of the women you've heard from. Carla Nicole Kester still is serving her sentence for defrauding banks and individuals to feed her drug habit. She's taking part in programs offered by her prison to prepare inmates for life after their sentences. She's slated for release in 2025.
Lindsay Lowe's conviction for the murder of her newborn twins was overturned on juror error in November of 2022. Her new trial has not yet been scheduled.
In 2020, 61-year-old Arena Pretty pled guilty to first-degree murder, use of a handgun in a crime of violence, and accessory after the fact when she was 18 years old. She was resentenced to time served and released from prison due to COVID concerns. At the time of her release, she was Maryland's longest incarcerated female prisoner, having served 42 years in prison.
In 2001, Celaya Stokes, who was convicted of attempted first-degree murder and handgun use back in 2009, was granted a very minor sentence reduction of two years. She's scheduled to be released in 2058, when she'll be 69 years old. In 2017, Amelia Carr, who was convicted of helping her boyfriend suffocate his wife, was taken off death row and resentenced to life in prison.
In 2023, Tiffany Cole, who was convicted at the age of 26 of first-degree murder, kidnapping and robbery, was removed from death row and resentenced to life in prison. Betty Brown, convicted of second-degree murder, and Jesse Thomas, who was convicted of theft, were both released from prison in 2015. Their release was documented by Diane Sawyer as part of a documentary program called Leaving Prison.
Since we first brought you this story, the number of women incarcerated has dropped from more than 200,000 in 2015 to 168,000 in 2023. According to the Sentencing Project, the decrease is due to reforms that scale back sentences for nonviolent offenses and reduced admissions due to COVID-19. But post-pandemic incarceration numbers for women are on the rise again.
You've been listening to the 2020 True Crime Vault. You can watch all new broadcast episodes of 2020 Friday nights at 9 on ABC.
Hi all, Kate Gibson here of The Bookcase with Kate and Charlie Gibson. This week we talked to Whoopi Goldberg about lots of things. But one of the things we talked to her about is how as a science fiction and graphic novel fan, she never saw herself on those screens or on those pages growing up. I mean, I didn't realize that part of me until I watched Star Trek. And I saw it because I love sci-fi.
And for some reason, it never occurred to me that I was missing until I was present. You're not going to want to miss this episode of The Bookcase from ABC News.
