When Your Child Goes to Prison: Loving Them Through the Hardest Years

Having my son in prison has been one of the hardest things I have ever lived through.

I have been through a lot in my life, but there is something different about having your child behind prison walls. You miss them in ways that are hard to explain. You worry about things most people never have to think about. And sometimes you feel helpless because there is only so much you can do from the outside.

My son is a good person.

That does not mean I believe he has never made a mistake. It does not mean I have forgotten that another family lost someone they loved.

One night changed all of our lives forever.

My son was going through a divorce at the time. He was not someone living a life of crime. He had served eleven years in the military, worked hard, helped people when they needed him, and had always been someone with a big heart.

Then there was a wreck, and his friend died.

I have compassion for my son’s friend’s family and for the loss they have had to live with. Nothing about loving and fighting for my son takes away from the fact that they lost someone they loved.

My son also has to live with the fact that his friend is gone.

That is something a prison sentence does not erase.

I Understand Something About Living With an Accident

About twenty years before my son’s wreck, I was involved in a wreck where someone died.

It was an accident, but that did not make it easy to live with.

I have carried that with me for years.

Because of that, I understand at least part of what it means to know that one moment changed someone else’s family forever.

That experience has also made it hard for me to watch my son’s entire life and character be reduced to one night.

People are more than the worst moment of their lives.

The Day My Son Took the Plea

There is something about the day my son accepted his plea that I will probably replay in my mind for the rest of my life.

His attorney called us into a room to talk with my son. The offer was twenty-five years.

I was telling my son not to take it.

I did not want him agreeing to give up twenty-five years of his life.

But his attorney told us my son would be eligible for parole in six to eight years.

He also told my son that after a couple of years he would be eligible for work release.

Those things mattered.

My son wanted to work. He has always been a worker, and the idea that he could eventually work while serving his sentence gave him something to hold onto.

At the same time, we were being told that if he rejected the plea and went to trial, he could receive life or ninety-nine years.

I kept trying to talk my son out of accepting the plea.

I remember him telling me:

“Mom, I could be out in six to eight years.”

That was a major reason he agreed to it.

I know my son would not have accepted that plea if he had known the truth.

Instead of six to eight years before parole eligibility, it is around fifteen.

And the work release he was told he could become eligible for after a couple of years is not something he is eligible for at all under the rules that apply to him unless something changes.

Those were not small details.

Those were years of his life.

We trusted his attorney, and he lied to us about things that directly affected my son’s decision to accept the plea.

That is something I still struggle with.

When I Started Questioning Whether His Attorney Was Fighting for Him

My son’s case was originally supposed to go to court in January.

Before then, we heard about another case involving a fatal wreck. The person involved had been in trouble before, while my son had no prior record, and he was facing the same type of charge my son was facing.

My son heard about what happened in that case and called his attorney.

By that point, I no longer trusted his attorney.

My son still did.

After my son told his attorney about the other case, his attorney contacted the district attorney, and my son’s court date was moved up from January to November.

That bothered me then, and it still bothers me.

I cannot say what his motive was.

I can only say that, as my son’s mother, it did not feel like someone was fighting for him.

His attorney also told my son that the person who died in the other accident was an older man and that my son’s case was different because his friend was young.

That has always stayed with me.

A life is a life.

Every person who dies leaves people behind who love them.

Prison Does Not Erase Who Someone Is

Sometimes people hear the word “prison” and believe they know everything they need to know about the person inside.

They don’t.

They do not know everything that happened before that moment.

They do not know the person’s heart.

They do not know the mother sitting at home missing her child.

They do not know whether that person spent years working, serving their country, helping others, raising children, or trying to build a life.

My son served eleven years in the military.

I always taught him to have a goal.

Keep working toward something.

That lesson stayed with him even after he went to prison.

He has already completed one educational program, and he is working toward another.

He keeps trying to better himself.

He keeps setting goals.

He keeps moving forward in a place where it would be very easy to give up.

I am proud of him for that.

Families Serve Part of the Sentence Too

The person incarcerated is the one serving the sentence.

But the family feels it too.

You wait for calls.

You worry about their safety.

You worry about whether they are being treated like human beings.

You miss birthdays.

You miss holidays.

You miss ordinary days that you never realized were precious until you could no longer have them.

You cannot simply hug your child because you miss them.

You cannot always be there when they are hurting.

And there is a constant awareness that time is passing.

I miss my son with all my might.

People in Prison Are Still People

Going through this has changed the way I see the prison system.

Accountability matters.

Consequences matter.

But so should rehabilitation.

Education should matter.

Safety should matter.

Medical care should matter.

Human dignity should matter.

People in prison are still human beings.

Some people have made many mistakes.

Some people are incarcerated because of one terrible decision.

And there are plenty of people outside prison walls who have made serious mistakes and never spent a day incarcerated.

The world is not divided neatly between good people outside the fence and bad people inside it.

People are more complicated than that.

He Is Still My Son

My son is incarcerated.

That is part of his story.

It is not his entire story.

He is a veteran.

He is a student.

He is someone who has worked hard.

He is someone who has helped people.

He is someone with a good heart.

He is someone who has experienced a devastating loss of his own.

And he is my son.

I will continue loving him.

I will continue fighting for him.

I will continue hoping that someday our justice and prison systems will recognize that accountability and humanity can exist together.

And I will never forget that another family lost someone they loved.

Both things can be true.

I can have compassion for their loss and still love my son with everything in me.

There are no winners when one night changes two families forever.