Hear What Hope Sounds Like
Issue #18: The Unbound Ink audiobook brings incarcerated voices to life.
“Our sorrows and wounds are healed
only when we touch them with compassion.”
—Jack Kornfield
Hear What Hope Sounds Like: Bringing Incarcerated Voices to Life
Written by Shayla Hale, Crime & Compassion Inc. Founder
Dear Readers,
“My daughter only listens to audiobooks, so she’ll be able to hear my short story now!”
When one of our Unbound Ink authors said those words in class, it clicked that turning the anthology into an audiobook meant more than I realized. It meant we were giving our students’ loved ones a chance to experience these short stories for the first time. Not everyone reads paperbacks and ebooks; some prefer audiobooks.
So, what began as a dream is now a reality: Unbound Ink: Of Mercy and Madness, Vol. I has been professionally narrated into an audiobook.
We are so grateful to Shae Strong and Justin Fife for their talent, professionalism, and kindness during this project. They worked so hard, and they showed such compassion toward our incarcerated students. We’ll never forget what they did, and we’re excited to work with them for future projects.
A very heartfelt thank-you to Amanda Bass, our director of development and communications, who made this possible. She ran a successful fundraiser, found the amazing Shae and Justin, and coordinated the project.
But most importantly, she kept her word to our students; she gave them a dream, and she helped make it real for them. Thank you, Amanda!
An audiobook is more than just another step in publishing; it genuinely gives a different kind of hope to our incarcerated students. It shows them that their stories don’t have to stop at the page. Their words can travel beyond prison walls, reach listeners they’ve never met, and remind them that their voices matter.
For many of our students, this is the first time they’ve seen an idea grow into something so tangible. A story that began with a blank page is now something people can listen to on their morning commute, during a walk, or from the comfort of their homes. It’s a powerful reminder that a person’s future is never defined by their worst mistake.
Every listen means more than just another audiobook played. It tells our students that people are willing to hear their stories, see their humanity, and recognize them for who they are beyond their past.
We hope you’ll enjoy their audiobook, share it with people you love, and find more incarcerated voices to listen to.
With Writerly Affection,
Shayla Hale, Executive Director & Founder
P.S. Our READ BANNED PEOPLE T-shirts are still up for preorder. Grab one today to support our cause, our students, and our future.
Released
Written by Vivienne Chase
Vivienne joined our Writers Guild Advanced class in 2025, and shocked me when she went months back to complete homework for lessons she wasn’t present for. She is an overachiever after my own type-A heart, and I’ve been so fortunate to get to know her in our programs. She has a knack for character sketches, and has even mentored our own volunteers in their novel-writing. Take it away, Vivienne!
—Shayla
“Released from Prison after 47 Years” reads the headline of the Crime & Compassion newsletter. The article is talking about Susan Ratcliff, incarcerated since her senior year of high school in 1979, released the week after her sixty-fifth birthday. She’s my best friend, my sister, my mother, my everything. My family only had the first nineteen years of my life; she has been an integral part of the last twenty-eight years. The Lord placed her in my path at a critical moment in my life.
It was a turning point in my incarceration.
~1998~
A quiet, solitary person, Susan sits cross-legged crocheting on her upper bunk. A long thick braid of brown hair is draped over her shoulder. “What are you doing?” says the bubbly, twentysomething girl with the dark curly locks as she climbs up to join Susan.
“So, you think you can just climb up here? This is Susan Land.” Susan narrows her thick, dark brows at the intruder and purses her lips.
“Why not?” Vivienne smiles warmly at her. “How else am I going to figure out what you’re doing?”
Susan sets her crochet in her lap and looks at the intruder. “Nobody is allowed in Susan Land.” She waits for a response.
A large, Native boyish-looking woman enters the cell without knocking. In a husky voice, she says, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you. I’m ready for our TV date.”
“I’m busy,” Vivienne replies as she tenses and mimics Susan’s cross-legged position.
The woman stares at Vivienne. Her nostrils flare. Vivienne holds her stare. The woman gives in, crosses her arms, and sits on the lower bunk. “Fine. I’ll wait. But I am getting my date.”
Vivienne’s eyes go wide as she looks at Susan, who picks up her crochet and begins again. Vivienne says, “Just so you know, I’m not going anywhere tonight. So, you might as well just leave.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving without you.” The woman reaches up behind Vivienne from the lower bunk and grabs a fistful of her long hair and begins trying to pull her down from the bunk. She wraps Vivienne’s hair around her wrist for more leverage, forcing her head between the top bunk and the window. “You’re coming with me.” The woman’s voice is full of menace.
Just then, in one smooth motion, Susan’s hand encircles the woman’s forearm in a viselike grip of her own. Quietly, Susan whispers, “You will let go of her hair right this minute.” Susan tightens her grip further.
The woman yells as she opens her hand and releases Vivienne’s hair. Susan maintains her grip. “Okay! Okay! Just let go of my arm, dammit!” Susan releases her. The woman jumps up from the lower bunk, whirls around, eyes watering. She rubs her forearm as she glares now at Susan for the first time.
In a calm, cool tone, Susan looks her in the eye as she says, “You will not walk into my room like that again. And you will not ever touch her again.”
Hands balled into fists and chest puffed out, the woman takes a step closer to the bunk. “She’s my woman.”
Disheveled, Vivienne shakes her head. Susan looks at Vivienne’s beet-red face and turns back to the woman. Calmly, she says, “I don’t think so. You need to back off if you know what’s good for you.”
~January 21, 2026~
I have packed all of Susan’s personal things that she will be taking with her. Among her things I have placed my most valuable keepsakes. One of those being a photo album with faded photos chronicling my life before prison. There’s also an envelope containing the funeral programs of my parents, step-parents, uncles, brothers, and others I have lost along the way. I even managed to preserve a pressed red rose from my mother’s funeral, a yellow rose from my daddy’s funeral, and a chrysanthemum from my stepdad’s funeral. Susan sees me add my college diplomas and graduation paraphernalia, and gives me a knowing nod.
~2008~
“I was in a room full of people cheering me on, but I felt so sad and alone.” Vivienne holds out the graduation medallion she received with her associate’s degree.
Susan takes the medallion and runs her fingers over it. She looks back at Vivienne’s glassy eyes and tight lips. “What’s wrong?” she asks as she hugs the now weeping Vivienne. “You know I would have been there if they would’ve let me.”
Vivienne nods through her sobs. “I know. I just feel so guilty.”
“Why?” Susan leans back and wipes a tissue under Vivienne’s eye to catch the trail of mascara. “Why should you feel guilty?”
“Well, all of our friends showed up. Jack and Nancy from church. Carol and Dr. Minor, who drove all the way from the city. Even our bosses, Mr. Clement and Mr. Coleman were there.”
“They are all very proud of you. So why feel guilty?”
“Because no one who is supposed to love me showed up. I did it all for them to be proud of me.” Vivienne sobs all the more while Susan pats her back.
“Sweetie,” Susan consoles. “I’m sure they are proud of you, but this is a long way for them to drive for such a short ceremony in the middle of the week.”
~January 21, 2026~
I have separated Susan’s favorite novels that she is taking with her from the ones she’s leaving for me to read. There’s also an entire bag of her clothing, bedding, and electronics that are being left for me to distribute after she leaves. We have prayed and advocated along with a host of supporters for her release, and the day is finally here. She stuffs the knitted hats I made during her chemotherapy into the keep box. Her hair is growing back quickly. Another visible sign of God’s healing power in her life.
~October 2025~
It’s the 5K Run Against Domestic Abuse and Breast Cancer in honor of former first lady, Kim Henry. Susan completed her chemotherapy in July and had a mastectomy in September. She says, “I really don’t want to go outside this early. It’s not like I can walk very far with the rollator.” She pouts as she pulls on her socks.
“Mother. Everyone is expecting to see you out there. A bunch of them are walking for you.” Vivienne smiles at Susan’s scowl. “I promise. We don’t have to stay very long. We are just making an appearance. Plus, our friends from the other side of the yard haven’t seen you since before you started chemo. That’s a long time.”
The sun is shining. More inmates have come out for the 5K than ever before. They walk past us and shout:
“We love you, Susan!”
“You are such an inspiration.”
“You’ve got this!”
Vivienne steps away as more people come in to give Susan hugs and well wishes. She visits with others she, too, has stayed away from to avoid picking up any cold or flu germs. Susan’s compromised immune system required caution on both their parts.
There are volunteers and cancer survivors sitting in chairs near the flagpole where Vivienne finds Susan speaking with a familiar lady. They are laughing and talking like old friends. Just then, a bearded man in jeans and a T-shirt walks up and puts his arm around the familiar lady. Vivienne recognizes him immediately and steps to whisper in Susan’s ear. “Do you know who that is?”
Susan looks confused, and the lady giggles. Vivienne says, “That there is former governor Brad Henry, and this is his first lady.”
“Oh, I thought I was in disguise.” Mr. Henry smiled.
Before they stepped away, the first lady told Susan that she felt inspired by her and was glad to have met her.
~January 21, 2026~
The whole left side of my face and neck is swollen from an infection under a molar. I feel miserable even after two days of antibiotics. We decide that it’s best if Susan walks to the gate with the case managers and others wanting to see her go. She’s afraid if she looks back at me she’ll fall apart. I look pitiful. We are family after all these years. So we hug and agree to talk later after she gets home.
~January 22, 2026~
The day after Susan’s release, I become the messenger of consolation as I deliver artifacts of her life to those whose lives she touched most. Every article of clothing with her name on it became a cherished memento. A sweatshirt here, a pair of shorts there—all were accepted with gratitude. Her mattress was left with a friend with back problems. A pillow for one, a blanket for another, a television to replace a broken one. One lady burst into tears to receive a shirt Susan wore to her chemo appointments. I gave everything away, including my own blanket so that I could replace it with one of hers. While we all, still here at the facility, kept something once close to Susan, she took something from us. She took our love and admiration for all she did for us over the years, not only in her capacity as a plumber and heat-and-air tech, but as a down-to-earth honest friend.
This article was published with written permission from the Writers Guild student.
The Lockup Report
OSBI probing embezzlement allegations against former OK County employee (The Oklahoman)
Mom sues former Cleveland County sheriff Chris Amason over son’s jail death (The Oklahoman)
If OK County can’t fix jail crisis, it risks federal takeover (The Oklahoman)
A daughter pleads to end a death row injustice (SunSentinel)
Jail: Death rate takes drastic dive based on rolling, 365-day periods (The Oklahoman)
No clemency for death row inmate who said “It’s time for me to pay” (The Oklahoman)
Women face different prison realities Gender gap extends to death row, advocates say (Herald-Tribune)
Former Oklahoma jail “enforcer” pleads guilty to federal crimes for assaults on inmates (The Oklahoman)
DPI’s 2026 Mid-Year Update: Jurors Continue to Reject Death Sentences Amidst Increased Secrecy and Disinformation (Death Penalty Information Center)
Oklahoma prison walkathon honors victims of impaired driving (KOCO 5 News)
Official: Despite troubles, spending mostly on track at new jail site (The Oklahoman)
Oklahoma mom killed in murder-suicide weeks after posting allegations about husband (The Oklahoman)
New OKC Diversion Hub offers tools to navigate criminal justice system (The Oklahoman)
5 Quick Things
I’m reading . . . The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, a Harvard psychologist who revealed that a shocking 4 percent of ordinary people—one in twenty-five—has an often undetected mental disorder, the chief symptom of which is that that person possesses no conscience. Whoa!
I’m listening to . . . The Happiness Track: How to Apply the Science of Happiness to Accelerate Your Success by Emma Seppala. Almost finished with this one! Lots of helpful ideas.
I’m watching . . . Rick and Morty. It’s one of my favorite shows, and it’s been a long time since I’ve watched it. Now I get to watch this chaotic cartoon with my husband!
I’m pumped about . . . LitFest on August 22! Come see us.
I’m creating . . . the Ambiguous Loss Community on Facebook.
After a 14-year career in publishing, Shayla Hale said goodbye to her authors so she could advocate for the incarcerated. Now a bleeding heart, she teaches writing classes at Mabel Bassett Correctional Center in McLoud. She also enjoyed two years as a volunteer chaplain at Oklahoma County Jail.
Shayla is the founder and executive director of Crime & Compassion Inc., a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that gives incarcerated individuals the tools to become authors, empowering those in and out of prison to cultivate meaningful work opportunities.
Her classes on the inside encourage creativity and confidence, shining a bright light on incarceration. Her heart’s desires are to unconditionally love the incarcerated, to help them bring their books into the world, and to fight with and for those affected by the US justice system.
In her not-so-free time, Shayla binges documentaries, thrifts for vintage treasures, and reads from her never-ending stack of books. She lives in Norman with her hilarious husband and two very spoiled dogs.
Note: All student work has been featured with written permission from the student.