“I saw the suffering and I let myself feel it . . . I saw the injustice and was compelled to do something about it. I changed from being a nun who only prayed for the suffering world to a woman with my sleeves rolled up, living my prayer.”
—Helen Prejean
Letter from the Founder
Dear Readers,
“Why are you willing to go out of your way like this? I see you sacrificing so much. Why?”
And then just a few days later:
“Why do you do all this? You don’t even get paid. You do so much for us. Why?”
Those questions were posed to me by two women I love very dearly. I’ve had the honor of working with them both at Mabel Bassett Correctional since 2023. It’s funny . . . both times left me stumped. It isn’t that I didn’t know the answer—it’s that I didn’t know if I could articulate it well.
Years and years ago, a woman had asked Stephen King a simple but necessary question: “Why do you write such scary books?”
He wrote about this exchange in the Author’s Note to one of his most beloved and esteemed novels, The Stand. Without skipping a beat, Stephen replied: “Why do you think I have a choice?”
I read that in 2013, and as a writer, it has never left me. I’ve often applied his response to inquisitive readers and loved ones who would ask me a similar question: “Don’t you worry about being too open about your life? Don’t you worry about who will read your poetry or stories?”
No, because it never mattered to me what other people thought about my writings. What mattered to me was the hope that maybe, just maybe, one person could feel seen, could feel less alone by what I wrote. It never occurred to me that I had a choice in the matter. All I knew, and still know as a writer, is that it must be done. I didn’t ask myself what choices I had before writing straight from the heart.
So, the same answer applies in this new life of mine: Why do you think I have a choice?
Working with and for the incarcerated is my life scripture.
Of course I’d do it for free, because it doesn’t feel like work. I do it because I can’t not do it. It just is. And now that I’ve had time to reflect, I’d like to give those two women one other response, laced with grace:
I do it because you felt the need to ask me why. I think what they both were really asking, if I can be presumptuous, was: Very, very few people on the outside care about us, especially to this extent. We know what people on the outside think of us. You don’t think that way. Why? And what do you get out of this?
I don’t think that way because I know what’s it like to be around people who do think that way. And all it’s taught me was to never be like them.
I don’t think that way or treat the incarcerated poorly just because they’ve made a mistake, no matter how big. (By the way, how on God’s green earth would that ever help them? How could that ever lead to anything good? If you treat the incarcerated poorly, then you’re the problem, not them.)
I don’t think that way because I see nothing but human beings. Full stop.
What do I get out of it?
Everything, and then some.
I get to see the smiles on their faces when I tell them how far they’ve come in their own writings. I get to cheer them on and motivate them, and it’s addicting when I see them realize, “Yes! I really can do this!”
I get to see the tears spill onto yellow legal pads as someone opens up about their healing journey. I get to see how one poem can ignite the process of forgiveness or self-love or acceptance or closure.
I get to see them realize that yes, they are loved, they are valued, they do matter.
Finally, I’m reminded of a story from an old pastor years ago. In his church, there were dozens of kids who rode the bus and many were loud and unruly. (I mean, they’re kids! Kids are loud.) The older people in the church didn’t like having all these kids running around, despite them learning about Jesus. In fact, they threw a fit over all these children. They approached the pastor and gave him an ultimatum: “It’s either us or them. You need to make a choice.” The pastor needed no time to think: “I choose the kids.”
I feel the same. I choose the incarcerated.
Your Bleeding Heart,
Shayla Hale
Founder & Host of Crime & Compassion
P.S. If you missed Episode 4: Vehicular Manslaughter, Incarceration & Family: The Tragic but Beautiful Story of Ken & Lucas Guidroz, please watch it. Especially if you’re a parent.
P.P.S. Scroll down for TWO pieces written and submitted by women who are currently incarcerated.
How Can We Support Crime & Compassion?
Subscribing to the newsletter is an awesome start, so thank you! You can become a paid or founding member below. Supporting this ministry (soon to become a nonprofit!) allows me to help the incarcerated in more ways than I can count:
If you love the social:
A Three-Part System: Punishment, Rehabilitation, and Restoration
In the early twentieth century, scientists conducted experiments to discover how a child’s innate temperament and warm social interaction might affect overall social and emotional development. It should come as no surprise that research revealed a link between positive emotional stimuli and healthy decision-making in adulthood. Regrettably, not everyone enjoys happy, healthy relationships in their formative years. Instead, many are left stunted and broken.
Fortunately, it is never too late to heal or to adapt and modify behavior in adulthood.
I think a perfect example of positive behavior modification can be found within the frameworks of the modern military. Upon joining, comforts are stripped from recruits during basic training in a tough, grueling process designed to break down old habits while building desirable ones. Soldiers willingly go along with what feels like punishment because they know there is a purpose for the deprivation. In the end, they are stronger and more confident, capable of dealing with difficulties in an efficient and productive manner.
There is a proper time and place for punishment; correction cannot exist without it. And yet, while it is acceptable over the short term to encourage positive behavioral or psychological change, is it morally right to use punishment indefinitely for the purpose of revenge?
Most would agree that punishment is necessary when used responsibly—to break down undesirable habits over the short term in order to build discipline. But that is not how it is being utilized in Oklahoma. Those convicted of a crime are simply warehoused, expected to endure neglectful treatment for as long as the state sees fit. Human contact is forbidden, along with any activity that promotes individuality. They become property; things to be tolerated instead of people with potential. Sometimes the punishment continues over the span of an entire lifetime for a single offense, one often incurred before the age of twenty-five when the brain is not fully developed. This knee-jerk reaction goes beyond being tough on crime. It is tough on people, on families, and on entire communities.
If the purpose of sending a person to prison is to help them learn from their mistakes, perhaps we should operate prisons more like the military. Ideally, the goal should be for someone to leave prison better physically and emotionally than when they came in. This can be accomplished if the justice system consisted of three distinct parts:
Punishment
Rehabilitation
Restoration
The period of punishment should be long enough that the person convicted of a crime would feel remorse, but not so long that they are unable to imagine themselves capable of starting over. After a suitable period of time, cognitive therapy, job skills, and warmth need to be introduced, constructing a framework of positive self-worth. The prisoner will readily submit to penance if there is a purpose behind it, and most would welcome the opportunity to become productive citizens.
Just because someone made a host of bad decisions does not mean they are monsters who prefer a life of crime.
We have allowed the effects of merciless legislation and tough-on-crime rhetoric to fester and grow for decades, spreading unchecked throughout our population like a cancer. The time has come for the people of Oklahoma to speak up and demand an era of restorative justice. Our focus heading into the future should be on changing the narrative, not branding people with the stigma of past mistakes. It’s never too late for change—for individuals, or for the state.
Written by Crystal1
The Official Oklahoma Death Row Inmate List [Updated June 3, 2024]
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there is not a complete, up-to-date list of Oklahoma death row inmates. So, I made one, because our state needs to know who is being killed and when. Reminder: In Oklahoma, 11 death row inmates have been innocent, and 5 have been granted clemency.
DBI
DBI DBI DBI
Death by incarceration
DBI DBI DBI
Lies told across this nation
Assuage your guilt
Just wash your hands
Warehouse people
Around the land
DBI DBI DBI
Death by incarceration
DBI DBI DBI
Lies told throughout this nation
The system’s scales
Are weighted down
And Justice wears
A tattered gown
DBI DBI DBI
Death by incarceration
DBI DBI DBI
Lies told define this nation
Written by Jax (2022)2
5 Quick Things
I’m reading . . . A Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig. I’m a huge fan of his, and he’s a super cool guy. I’m also listening to the audiobook A Stolen Life by Jaycee Dugard. I have to listen in bursts, as it’s a tough story to hear.
I’m (still) listening to . . . Court Junkie and Park Predators. I have been waiting for so long for Park Predators to come back. It’s a fascinating dive into crimes that occur in our national parks.
I’m watching . . . Cold Case Files (season 3) on Netflix. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that we actually get to see them solved! Even if it’s years and years later.
I’m teaching . . . “Setting the Captives Free: Jail & Prison Ministries for Churches.” At the beginning of the month, my dad and I presented on this topic. It went super well, and everyone seemed excited to start a ministry for the incarcerated. I need to line up more churches and organizations, so if you know of any church or organization that would like to start a ministry in jails or prisons, please email me at info@crimeandcompassion.com! I would love to come present in-person or virtually!
I’m showing off . . . the most incredible gift from a woman I work with at the prison. Poetic Justice had their graduation for our girls this month, and they got to show off their art. As some of you know, the death penalty is a major hot button of mine. The artist painted a convicting canvas on this topic and surprised me with it.
After a 13-year career in publishing, Shayla Hale said goodbye to her authors so she could advocate for the incarcerated. Now a bleeding heart, she volunteers with Poetic Justice at Mabel Bassett Correctional Center. She also enjoyed two years as a volunteer chaplain for Oklahoma Jail & Prison Ministries at Oklahoma County Jail. Shayla is the founder and host of Crime & Compassion, a podcast that tells the stories of those who were written off. Her heart’s desires are to unconditionally love the incarcerated, to encourage their creativity and storytelling, and to fight with and for those affected by the US justice system. Forever a literature lover, Shayla is also an author and public speaker. She lives in Norman with her chef husband and three spoiled dogs.
Essays from inside prisons and jails are submitted by the writers themselves and have been published here with their written permission and consent.
Poems from inside prisons and jails are submitted by the writers themselves and have been published here with their written permission and consent.