The Hug from a Man Who Knew My Father on Death Row
Issue #16: A Death Row Daughter Speaks at the Texas Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty Conference
What Passionate Pleas
What passionate pleas, my heart doth cry,
When to the Lord, my soul asks, “Why?”
This pain no longer can I bear,
And silent cries I feel my prayer.
They’re lifted up, but are they heard?
I long await, but ne’er a word.
I pray in heaven I might dwell,
But at this moment, I fear ’tis hell.
—Shari Bower
Journaled on March 25, 1989
Before They Executed Him: A Wife’s Story of Death Row
The Hug from a Man Who Knew My Father on Death Row
Written by Leslea Miller, Crime & Compassion Inc. President
Dear Readers,
I was invited to speak at the annual conference for the Texas Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty (TCADP) that was being held in Houston in February. The theme this year was Overcoming Legacies; Reimagining Justice. The executive director had asked me to speak at one of the break-out sessions entitled Families Left Behind: Life After an Execution. I felt so honored and gladly accepted.
I was 11 years old when my life changed forever. My dad was arrested on four counts of capital murder, a crime he did not commit. He was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death in 1984. For the next 31 years, my family and lawyers fought tirelessly to exonerate him, but in 2015, the State of Texas carried out his execution.
The TCADP works tirelessly to expose the failures of the Texas death penalty, past and present, and to shine a light on the humanity of those condemned by our society.
On the Friday prior to the conference, I drove down to Houston and a group of us met for dinner. It was a great chance to catch up with those we already knew and to meet new friends. It is always fascinating to me to hear stories from others as to how they became involved with the TDACP.
Saturday morning, approximately 150 like-minded supporters and advocates gathered at the United Way Conference Center. Each shared a desire to change the way people view capital punishment. These are my people. Many have attended past conferences, but for others, like me, this was our first time.
The moderator of my session had a slideshow playing that included a few family photos of Dad when he was still at home and others of him while he was on “the Row.” The questions that were asked and answered focused on my experiences of being a daughter of a death row inmate and how his execution and aftermath has affected me and my life.
I thought I would be more nervous, but I actually felt rather calm. These folks were welcoming and eager to hear what I had to say. As I read an excerpt from my mom’s book (Before They Executed Him: A Wife’s Story of Death Row by Shari Bower) detailing the last moments of my dad’s life here on earth, I could hear sounds of emotion coming from my audience. I know my parents would be proud of me and my desire to bring awareness to such an important issue.
After my session, it was time to break for lunch. As I stood in the buffet line, I was introduced to a death row exoneree, Anthony Graves. I had heard of him and had long wanted to meet him. We shook hands. I asked him if he knew Les Bower and he exclaimed, “Of course, I knew Mr. Bower!” I told him that I am his daughter, and he paused and smiled and quickly pulled me in for a very strong hug. I’m not sure if the gesture was as moving for him as it was for me, but it felt like it.
It is a rare circumstance to meet someone that knew my dad on death row, as most of his neighbors did not make it out alive. I was quite emotional after this encounter, and I am honored to have met him.
Mr. Graves is one of the few lucky ones that actually made it off of the Row alive.
It’s still shocking to me that innocent people can be caught up in such a flawed system and potentially pay for it with their lives.
I look back at my dad and I still ask, How could this happen? An innocent man was killed by the State for a crime he did not commit!
This profound loss was compounded five years later with the sudden passing of my mother shortly after she published her memoir that detailed our family’s harrowing journey.
After picking myself up and dusting myself off, I realized that I needed to be the voice for my parents and this terrible injustice. Not long after that, I was invited to a local church that was holding meetings during Lent called Crucial Conversations [LESLEA: Link?]. The first week, they were focusing on capital punishment and had a few speakers. I was nervous and excited to attend and see what others thought about this subject. This was the beginning of me getting involved. The speakers were, and are, very active with TCADP and we immediately became friends. These new friends would become my biggest supporters in finding my voice and encouraging me to use it. Soon after, they introduced me to the executive director of TCADP and she was excited to have me at this year’s conference. I can now proudly call all of them, dear friends.
So, I guess this is the beginning of my new journey. I’m not sure where it will take me, but I’m happy to be on this track.
Leslea Miller is a seasoned hairstylist with over 30 years of experience, making her mark in Arlington, Texas, where she owns and operates her own salon. A devoted grandmother to three, she finds joy in the quiet moments of life—whether nurturing her garden, spending weekends with her grandchildren, or losing herself in the intricate challenge of jigsaw puzzles. A woman of many talents, Leslea is also a gifted photographer, capturing the world through her unique lens, and a natural storyteller, both behind and in front of the microphone.
But Leslea’s life has been shaped by a story far deeper than her many passions. At just 11 years old, her world was forever changed when her father was arrested on four counts of capital murder—a crime he did not commit. Despite their unwavering efforts to prove his innocence, he was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death in 1984. During those 31 years, Leslea and her family fought tirelessly to exonerate him, but in 2015, the state of Texas carried out his execution. This profound loss was compounded in 2020 when her mother, Shari Bower, published a memoir—Before They Executed Him—detailing their family’s harrowing journey, only to pass away eight months later.
Through it all, Leslea has remained steadfast in her commitment to honoring her parents’ legacy. She carries their story with grace and determination, sharing her life experiences to inspire and educate others. Leslea’s resilience, creativity, and unwavering love for her family are a testament to the strength of the human spirit, and her voice continues to echo the truth of a life marked by both tragedy and triumph.
We Received Our First-Ever Grant!
Thank you to the Pfriem Family Fund and the Greater Kansas City Community Foundation for this incredible gift!
Our nonprofit hit a major milestone on May 21: We received our first grant! We are so humbled and so grateful for this grant. To know that an organization out there believes so strongly in what we’re doing for the incarcerated—it’s an incredible feeling. Thank you again to the Pfriem Family Fund for this extraordinary gift and for supporting our incarcerated students and their stories.
Once Was
Written by Carmita
Carmita joined Writers Guild Beginners in March 2026 and has brought many students (and her teachers!) to tears with her heartfelt and sincere style of writing. On May 17, Carmita read this beautiful piece to the whole class, and we all took a second to stop wiping our tears away so we could applaud her. Celebrating each other is top priority, and today, we celebrate your writing, Carmita! Thank you for being vulnerable and brave in your essay. Without further ado . . .
Life can change so fast before we even know what happened.
We can wake to a completely different reality than when we went to sleep. We can come down suddenly sick, or a loved one can. A loved one can die suddenly. The world could have gone to war. We could lose a job or a pet.
Nothing in life is promised, and neither is tomorrow.
Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own lives that we can lose sight of what truly matters. I know I did. It’s a hard lesson to learn but a very important one. Sometimes we have to be stripped of everything and everyone we once knew in order to see what’s true—not what we believe to be true. Sometimes we don’t understand why what’s happening is happening until it’s over, but maybe that’s the point?
I had fallen hard and fast for a man twice my age. Before I knew it, I was living with him, pregnant by him, and engaged. Life felt easier to navigate with him. It felt easier to breathe. Finally, someone saw me for who I was and loved me anyway. Finally, someone could deal with me without resorting to abuse. For once, my mental health problems were not an issue—it was simply part of me.
I had become accustomed to abuse, unfaithfulness, and deceit throughout life up to this point. Suddenly sobriety seemed easy because I felt accepted and wanted. This was something that was foreign to me. I had no idea at that time what I had felt for the men I had been with prior to Brandon was not true love. Not until I couldn’t imagine a day without him until I was forced to. He encouraged me to be truly me in a way I never knew I could be.
We had a lot of good times and of course bad times. We made a lot of lasting memories that are still so vivid. At the time, I met him with my son, who was around four years old, and his dad was absent at best. Brandon stepped in like it was where he was meant to be. He took on the father role like he was his father. He helped me to parent him where I struggled as a young, single mother who did not have the best upbringing. He made an impact on my son about as fast as he did me. He also made an impact on my mom and dad, both of which were hard to do.
I didn’t know how important the memories, the moments, and the impacts would be until that’s all I had remaining.
When life suddenly changes and leaves us lost, hurting, and confused, we do not know what else to do. We often feel like we cannot continue on because our reality is no longer there.
The day Brandon passed, something broke in me. It not only shattered my heart but left a deep ache in my soul. The pain and the new reality was too much for me to bear. I quickly turned to alcohol and pills to escape the pain and the truth. I selfishly chose to worry about only me and blocked out everyone else. Not worrying about the others who were grieving—most importantly, my children.
Four months after he passed away, I woke up in county jail for a crime I did not commit. However, I still felt guilt for not knowing. That day began a long journey of learning what is important. It began a journey of learning what true friendship and family is. It began teaching me who I truly was on my own. It began a journey of grieving completely sober. It showed me just how important those memories would come to be to me to help me in the hardest days.
Sometimes we have to be saved from ourselves in order to learn ourselves.
Two years after arriving in a place called prison, I was still attempting to come to terms with my sentence and the reality that going home was not looking promising when my biggest supporter was suddenly gone. I once again tried to escape from confronting and dealing with the pain. I chose to quit one job and start another in order to work seven days a week. Never having a day off left me with no time to deal with the loss.
Up until this point, my mom had been my biggest cheerleader, supporter, and my best friend. She was all I had left. Everyone else had drifted away in county or soon after my arrival to prison. She never gave up on me or stopped loving me.
Then she was gone.
And I broke further.
I began truly learning what it meant to be independent. It wasn’t until she had been gone for a while that I realized my journey of learning and healing had begun not at the news of her passing but rather back in the jail cell those years ago. Sometimes our lessons we need to learn can begin without our knowing. Sometimes our journeys begin before we even realize they have begun. They often aren’t revealed until the time when it will matter the most and be the most impactful.
When I was faced with health issues and forced to quit my job that had been keeping me distracted, I was confronted with all I had been suppressing. What many fail to realize is that with those suppressed emotions come suppressed memories. They all came back in a flood to show me what I had been hiding, but also to remind me.
It helped to remind me of all the good times we had. It reminded me of the comical way I met Brandon: in a mental hospital. It helped to show the depth of his love and my mother’s love. It showed me that we all love in our own way. It is one of the things that make us unique individuals. It taught me that I shouldn’t hide from my grief but rather embrace it. It showed me that there is nothing to be ashamed of in saying, “I still love Brandon deeply, even though he has been gone over a decade.”
The important part is admitting I will always love him, and that is okay.
At the time that I was faced with the loss of my husband, my incarceration, the loss of my children, and then my mom, I did not understand. Now, I know it isn’t for me to understand, and that is okay. Today I have learned how important memories are to coping with the losses. The memories—whether in a photograph, a letter, or simply in your heart—are monumental to healing as well as dealing.
When losing a loved one who was so close, you are left broken. It takes time, sometimes years, to pick up the pieces. Sometimes you discover that some pieces are missing or no longer fit. That is okay because maybe the important part is figuring out how to put the remaining pieces together.
Before Brandon died, we had a lot of plans for the future. Still to this day with a smile on my face, I can call him “the man of many plans.” We had plans to build a house, to travel, etc. We had dreams of more children. I had a dream of true love and my happy-ever-after that is in fairy tales.
A lesson I’ve learned is that true love, if only for a moment, is the true happy-ever-after. People come and go. Some people are in our lives for only a moment or a season. What matters the most is knowing they are there for a reason. Even if the reason is unknown to us in the moment.
Another thing that matters is knowing the memories still remain to help you cling to long after the person is gone. Maybe the true reality is that the memories are meant to be the glue that helps hold the pieces back together. Even if in reality the pieces can’t truly be put back together—it definitely helps to soothe the ever-present ache in our soul.
This article was published with written permission from the Writers Guild Beginners student.
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5 Quick Things
I’m reading . . . I finished The Long Walk by Stephen King. I cried. Then I watched the movie. And then I cried again. Now, I’m reading Parkland: Birth of a Movement by Dave Cullen, who is, in my opinion, one of the best writers in the world of journalism.
I’m listening to . . . The Silversun Pickups. In case you missed it: We had the opportunity to see and visit with one of my favorite bands, and our board secretary (Janey) brought Unbound Ink to the show. We gave them the book, and they were so kind and gracious and congratulated our students on their anthology. Then they posted a photo of the book! Here’s the full story on Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok.
I’m watching . . . The X-Men series. We’ve finished the first few movies, and we’re on Wolverine now.
I’m proud of . . . Mabel Bassett for competing in the Olympics against Eddie Warrior Correctional. Amanda Bass and I had a blast cheering for everyone on the yard as they ran and jumped and sprinted! Everyone worked so hard, and we’re so proud of their accomplishments. Here’s what KOCO 5 News had to say about the games.
I’m celebrating . . . Our Director of Volunteer Programs, Matthew Billings, is graduating from Noble High School today! We’re so ridiculously proud of him. He works very diligently to help our incarcerated students and the nonprofit. From research requests for our students, to creating invaluable resources to help them in their writing; from website updates to book reviews for our students—he just does an A+ job. I don’t know what I’d do without him! Give it up for Matthew!
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.