THE LONG ROAD HOME

A Woman on Parole Struggles to Beat the System

The past decade hasn't been easy for Rebecca. In and out of the
system, she has struggled with drug addiction and mental illness.
Rebecca didn't pick good partners in the past, she says, and she
regrets losing custody of her two sons-both of whom were taken away
due to her drug-related crimes.

But this Saturday, Rebecca is turning over a new leaf. As Trinity's
caretakers enter her apartment, Rebecca's face lights up. Usually
reserved and shy, she begins cuddling her daughter and talking to her.
Chris, Rebecca's husband and Trinity's father, stands nearby. He
welcomes representatives from New Horizons, the Mennonite organization
that cared for Trinity during Rebecca's incarceration

"Thank you so much for helping us out with the baby. I don't think
they could have picked anyone better to watch our baby. You did such a
great job," says Chris.

"Remember when we had our first interview?" asks Crist Helmuth,
child-care director for New Horizons. "I told you that this is our
goal-but you probably had problems believing it."

"Yeah, it seemed so far away," says Rebecca.

Rebecca has accomplished the first goal of her new life as a
responsible parent, but it won't be the only challenge she faces. Like
many women in Colorado's mandatory parole system, she must juggle
childrearing, parole classes and work during the remainder of her
parole period.

Next, Rebecca will face the most challenging test of her adult life-a
crime-free, stressful existence without the solace of drug use. She is
married to a man who claims to want what's best for her, although he
himself is a felon.

According to Christi Donner, director of the Colorado Criminal Justice
Reform Coalition, there are thousands of women like Rebecca in
Colorado who are staged to fight long, uphill battles. Because women
are often primary caretakers and have more complex emotional issues,
women's needs are different in the system, Donner says. Unfortunately,
the system has few female-specific treatment programs and is grossly
underfunded, she says.

Most women like Rebecca are left to pave their own paths: Some find
ways to beat the system; others relapse and go back to jail.

Says Donner: "It's a long road home-but a short road back."

Bad Choices

Having grown up on the East Coast, Rebecca's mother Nell considered
the Southern Colorado town of Pueblo a great place to raise kids.
There was a low crime rate, and the schools were good. Nell remarried
when Rebecca and her two brothers were young. The family did what many
other Colorado families did for recreation-camping, hiking and
occasional RV trips to New Mexico, Arizona and Las Vegas.

While always a stubborn and ornery child, by the time Rebecca reached
13 her temper became almost uncontrollable. Nell sought counseling for
her daughter, but Rebecca's emotional distress only intensified as she
grew older.

One day, during the morning rush in front of her middle school,
Rebecca's life was threatened by a close friend. Initially, the friend
pulled a knife out of her backpack and threatened another student.
Rebecca didn't want to get involved and tried to stay out of the way.
But Rebecca's friend turned on her and held the knife to her
collarbone, piercing the skin. It took police intervention to break up
the quarrel.

Nell was concerned for her daughter and sent her for psychiatric
treatment after the incident. Later, Rebecca continued acting out and
threw a pair of scissors at her mom during an argument. Not knowing
what to do, but wanting what was best for her daughter, Nell sent
Rebecca to a state hospital for an evaluation.

"I didn't really know what to do," she says. "We just did whatever the
counselor told us to do and thought was best."

Around that time, Rebecca's home life changed. Nell left Rebecca's
stepfather for another partner and began a long-term relationship. The
home rules became more relaxed than before. One time, Rebecca says she
was caught with marijuana by Nell's new partner, but was never
punished. At age 16, Rebecca dropped out of school and started getting
drunk and partying with friends. She would run away for weeks at a
time, returning home only for food and a shower. Nell put alarms on
the windows, but that didn't stop Rebecca from sneaking out of the
house.

"I was scared to death for her because she wasn't making very good
choices," says Nell.

At age 17, Rebecca came home pregnant. Teenage pregnancy wasn't
unusual in Rebecca's family; both her mother and grandmother started
rearing children in their late teens. But, unlike them, Rebecca didn't
have a husband or a family-all she had was herself.

After giving birth to her first son, Cameron, in 1998, Rebecca lost an
unusual amount of weight. She started keeping odd hours and was up all
the time. Rebecca had discovered the drug methamphetamine and had
become addicted.

Rebecca says she started using because of the stress related to
raising a newborn. However, she did have substantial help from her
mom, who provided some childcare. The two worked opposite shifts in
order to care for Cameron. As Rebecca started flaking out on her
parenting responsibilities, Nell remembers talking to Rebecca about
her irresponsible behavior.

"I don't mind watching the baby while you're at work, but I'm not
going to take care of [Cameron] all the time. You don't need to be out
there doing that kind of crap," Nell told her daughter.

But before Rebecca decided to get her priorities straight, the legal
system determined them for her. Rebecca had stolen checks, and the
police finally caught up with her. Facing a four-year probation
sentence, Rebecca's custody of Cameron was challenged by Cameron's
biological father and his family.

With her daughter facing a criminal charge and not having enough money
to fight the custody battle, Nell was helpless and had little
recourse. Cameron was 6 months old when he left Rebecca's care. Nell
remembers the devastation.

"I tried to challenge them, and I got to the point where I figured out
that I don't have the resources," she says. "It didn't help me legally
that I was the grandmother and not the mother."

Relapse and Recovery

While serving her probation sentence, Rebecca met her first husband,
John. From the start, Nell didn't have a good impression of John, and
remembers him as a convicted felon with a bad disposition. It didn't
help that Rebecca and John occasionally snuck into Nell's apartment
and took things.

Knowing that her mom didn't approve of her relationship, Rebecca got
married and didn't invite Nell to the wedding. Rebecca and John had a
son, Ian, in 1999 and moved to Canon City in 2000.

After John violated his parole and returned to prison, Rebecca was
left alone to raise Ian.

Hanging out with a new group of friends, Rebecca started using meth
again and began stealing to support her habit. In what was perhaps her
lowest moment, Rebecca stole jewelry from an acquaintance and checks
from a patient who lived at a nursing home.

Perhaps Rebecca's biggest regret during that time is the unwise
choices she made in relationships, which she says put her closer to
crime.

"I've always been with a man that I've done my crimes with-it's
stupid," she says.

For women, romantic relationships are one of the pathways to prison,
Donner says.

"It's the choice in male relationships [where] oftentimes the men are
involved in criminal activity, and [women] get pulled into that. It's
almost more a lifestyle than an intention to be a criminal," she says.

It's hard for Rebecca to think back to the time that she stole from
the weak to get drug money.

"I was just an addict trying to make myself high," she
says.

Rebecca was sentenced to one year. She lost custody of Ian to social
services before she left for prison.

For Nell, it was torture to see her adult daughter making poor
decisions. Having provided support and guidance on many occasions,
Nell grew more frustrated, and couldn't understand why Rebecca
continued her behavior.

"I would talk to her and try to figure out the best thing to do, and
she'd do whatever the heck she wanted to do," says Nell. "It would
just get her into trouble, and I wouldn't have any idea what motivated
her to do that."

During these years, Nell says she developed an anxiety disorder for
which she had to take medication. It wasn't until Rebecca moved to
Canon City, and Nell eventually moved back to the East Coast, that she
realized her daughter was the primary source of her anxiety.

"It was terrible. It would make my heart flutter, and I couldn't
breathe," she says. "I never directly related it to my daughter and
all the fun things I had to deal with."

Nell visited Rebecca in prison, and she continued to write Rebecca
after she moved to the East Coast. But because collect calls from
prison are so expensive, Nell and Rebecca talked about once a month.

Rebecca divorced John in prison and in 2004 moved to Denver for a
substance abuse program. Rebecca says she was ready to confront her
drug problem. She began a two-month long drug treatment program at the
Haven. While Rebecca was ready to make a new life for herself, her
environment made it difficult to do so. She lived in a halfway house
with other parolees and regularly came in contact with people who were
violating their parole and using drugs.

"It was hard for me seeing people all jacked up," she says. "It made
me want to see if I could get away with it-but I didn't."

Further obstacles came from the parole classes Rebecca had to take and
the regular scheduling conflicts they caused with her job. The fact
that she had to use public transportation didn't make her life any
easier. Rebecca had some support from her mom, but most of her friends
were still in prison. It was beginning to look like life on the
outside wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Wanting to go back to prison isn't that uncommon for convicted
criminals, says Donner.

"When you go from an institutionalized place, your life has been
managed. People tell you when to get up and when to eat-you make
virtually no decisions for yourself," she says. "I think for a lot of
people, they are overwhelmed with trying to get back on their feet,
and they give up because they don't know how to do it. I don't know
that this is a question of weakness-these are overwhelming barriers
for a lot of people."

In September of 2004, Rebecca met Chris Hutton, a tall, talkative
Californian in his 40s. Chris had been in and out of the prison system
in California and Colorado for decades and was finishing what he hoped
to be his final parole sentence. The two crossed paths outside a
parole office in Denver. Chris gave Rebecca his number, and they ended
up going out on a date.

Rebecca liked Chris because he was mellow, kind and wasn't violent
like the other men she had dated. Chris also had aspirations. He
dreamed about leaving his life as a drug dealer and heroin addict and
becoming a tattoo artist. Eventually, Chris hoped to own his own shop.

Based on his own parole experiences, Chris encouraged Rebecca not to
give up.

"They set you up to fail pretty much," he says. "They set you up for
this class and that class-one might be on a Tuesday and the other on a
Wednesday. If you don't find a job in three weeks, they're going to
send you back for not working."

As the two fell in love, life grew complicated. Chris was a convicted
felon, and the conditions of Rebecca's parole restricted her from
associating with felons like Chris-even though he was no longer on
parole. She experienced a similar predicament with her younger
brother, who also had a felony record.

The social void that Rebecca experienced is not uncommon, Donner says,
and can impact women more than men because women tend to be more
relationship-orientated.

"If your family wasn't an option and your friends weren't an option,
what would you do? Who would be your support system? How would you
make new connections in your life?" she asks.

Considering that many parolees are busy running between classes, work
and other responsibilities, there's little time to make new friends or
acquaintances, she says.

Rebecca and Chris continued their relationship for two months, but
Rebecca's parole officer finally caught up with them. Both Rebecca and
Chris were charged with "interference with the police" in November of
2004.

Struggling to keep her addicition under control, Rebecca relapsed and
used drugs with Chris.

"She asked me to do [it], I told her no," he says. "One day, we just
broke down and went to her friend's house and got high."

Rebecca later failed a urine test, which all parolees are required to
take.

With new charges, authorities sent Rebecca back behind bars to serve
one and a half years of her parole sentence. At the time that Rebecca
learned about her new sentence, she also learned she was pregnant with
her first daughter, Trinity.

New Challenges

Being pregnant in prison wasn't easy for Rebecca. Reclusive and quiet
by nature, her pregnancy attracted a lot of attention. People always
wanted to touch her belly, she says. Rebecca remembers sounds seeming
louder and being more irritable than normal. All she hoped for was
peace and quiet.

Rebecca gave birth to her first daughter without the company of
family, friends or her husband. The birth wasn't complicated, and the
hospital gave Rebecca an epidural. Rebecca came up with the name
Trinity because it means "three," and Trinity was the third member of
the Hutton family. Rebecca had little time to bond with her daughter,
she says, but managed to stretch the time out so she could be with her
newborn.

With Chris unable to take custody of Trinity, Rebecca contacted New
Horizons Ministry and applied for its child-care program. New Horizons
is one of the few programs that works with moms who give birth in
prison and don't have family to rely upon for support.

During the remainder of her prison sentence, Rebecca had weekly and
sometimes bi-weekly visitations with Trinity.

Chris established a common-law marriage with Rebecca while she was
behind bars, but wasn't able to call or write because of his felon
status. The two had agreed to officially marry when the state released
Rebecca from prison. During his arduously long wait, Chris worked
several jobs and saved money for his new family. He collected a few
rings for his bride-to-be and thought about the day they could marry.

In the spring of 2006, the Colorado Department of Corrections released
Rebecca with about four months remaining on her parole sentence.

Although Rebecca had challenges before, she had many more being a mom
and parolee. But this time, there was an incentive: Rebecca wanted
desperately to gain custody of Trinity. In the grand scheme of things,
work, therapy, classes and urine tests seemed logistically possible.

Even though they were married, Rebecca wasn't allowed to live with
Chris as a parolee. She applied for and was accepted into a halfway
house geared toward women, called the Matthews Center in Denver.

During this time, Rebecca and Chris visited Trinity as much as they
could. Starting with a few hours every week, they eventually earned
weekend visits with their daughter. According to Laura, a caretaker
with New Horizons, Chris and Rebecca were great parents and showed a
tremendous amount of affection for Trinity.

"Rebecca and Chris were really good about giving clothes, and they
bought a car seat for Trinity," she says. "You could tell that they
cared about Trinity. Not very many parents do that."

On Saturday, May 13, Rebecca gained full custody of Trinity. As
Trinity became more involved in Rebecca's life, Nell became a part of
Rebecca's daily activities as well. Rebecca called her mom with
questions about bug bites and other parenting dilemmas. They began
exchanging pictures through e-mail. Nell sent Rebecca helpful items
for Rebecca's home.

Nell also warmed up to Chris, who is the same age as his
mother-in-law. While that was perhaps an initial stumbling block, Nell
says she respects Chris because he takes good care of her daughter and
loves her. "He provided a house for her and had a ring waiting for
her," she says. "I don't care what age he is-I just want him to be
good to my daughter." A third try

Now that Rebecca has finished her parole, she's a full-time,
stay-at-home mom. In some ways, being at home all the time is more
stressful than working, she says. It helps that Chris often comes home
from work and helps feed Trinity and change diapers, she says.

While they're learning how to be parents, Chris and Rebecca are also
figuring out how to live a clean life-together. Recently, the two
encountered a good deal of stress when Chris' shop was robbed and
their car broke down. In spite of the stress and recent challenges,
Chris says that both he and Rebecca have stayed drug free.

"We have to talk about it," he says. "It hit Rebecca more than me as
far as triggers and having an urge. If I was going to use, I would
just go out. When I decide not to, I stay clean."

Jokes Rebecca: "He's too old to do drugs, anyway."

Despite the fact that he and Rebecca have used drugs together, Chris
says he isn't worried about using again.

"I've shot heroin since I've been 14. I've never been married and had
a kid," he says. "Life is too good out here. I'll lose everything if I
ever get like I was."

There are a lot of factors that determine whether women like Rebecca
can beat the system, Donner says. Rebecca's ability to stay sober, her
support system and the stability of her relationships will play major
roles in her recovery, she says.

"There's a lot of different recovery patterns," says Donner. "You have
to build a life that you really want and that you feel connected to."

But there's a lot working against convicts, she says.

"This is the cat chasing its tail. Prison doesn't cure addiction any
more than it cures mental illness or it cures poverty or lack of job
training," she says. "People come out with the same problems they had
before."

Chris and Rebecca say they've found other things to replace their drug
use. Both like to spend time with Trinity, take her for walks and go
to the park. Chris took Rebecca to a show at Red Rocks a few weeks
ago. Rebecca stays in close contact with her mom and will visit with
her in New Jersey in August.

During her visit, they plan to arrange a family picture with Rebecca's
grandmother, great-grandmother and Trinity-five generations of women
total. For both Rebecca and Nell, the picture signifies change. But
this time around, change seems to be heading for better-not worse.

Having watched her daughter flounder in the system for years, Nell
can't help but to feel a sense of hope for Rebecca this time around.

"Trinity's name is for three; it's [Rebecca's] third try," she says.
"She's got to do it right this time-[Rebecca] said that when she was
born."

Happy to be done with parole and walking on eggshells, Rebecca is
heading into uncharted territory. While the future will prove
challenging, Rebecca says she doesn't want to do drugs anymore.

In stark contrast to before, Rebecca says she knows what will motivate
her to move forward and live a drug-free life.

"My daughter keeps me strong and keeps me sober-I have a
responsibility," she says. "Having my daughter changed my life."