FILED: "Ex Parte Motion to Correct Defendant's Presentence Custody Credits"

Recently, my mom sent me a copy of something she had, what appears to be, a jailhouse attorney write up for her. She had already filed it with the courts and was mailing me a copy so that I could join in praying over it with her. It was called an "Ex Parte Motion to Correct Defendant's Presentence Custody Credits."

Basically, when my mom finally got tired of fighting her case (3 yrs) and agreed to take a deal, somehow, they got her to "agree" to let them "keep" the 3 years she had already served. In essence, her time started the day she was sentenced. But, this person in jail helping her with her legal stuff found that this was unconstitutional and figured out the loopholes somehow.

The irony is that people inside have been telling her for a couple of years now that this can be corrected. So, she's been asking for out help, without success. It was just too much for any one person to deal with after we finally got settled down from the whole ordeal. And, we are not exactly a "come together" type of family. Which meant that she had to turn to someone in prison with her to help her with this legal issue.

Don't get me wrong. I've told you before that my entire family supports my mother. We all do what we can. That's what I requested in the beginning when people asked me what could they do to help. I simply told everyone, "Everyone has a part. Just figure what your part is, and do it." And, everyone has. But, there were major reasons why we could not help her with this request:

1. Money. There are only two financially secure (rich) people in our family. The rest of us are all struggling to get back on top. Who has the money to invest in this? Attorneys were asking for $5,000 just to sit down and consult on this. And those two people help her financially as it is. It's too much to ask that they do this alone just because they have it.
2. Faith. Those of us who are skeptics, didn't even believe it was possible for her to get that time back. We just assumed that since she agreed to it in court during her sentencing, it was etched in stone. We figured it was a losing battle that we did not have the strength to fight. And those that did believe, did not have the strength (or money) to fight the battle alone.
3. Strength. I have to mention this one again. It took so much out of those of us who were so close to my mom to get through the three years of fighting, and the initial shock of her actually being in the pen. Once the dust settled, the crying finally stopped, and relationships with the sober her started to rebuild, most of us didn't have the strength to even think about starting a new fight. Personally, on the selfish tip, I just wanted her to do her time and let me try to put my life back together. I needed to work on ME for a while.

Now that my mother has found someone inside that she can count on to help her with this struggle, I can "do my part" instead of being in control. It took me a long time to learn the difference between supporting her and enabling her. Now that I know the difference, I see the negative affect it had on me, personally.

Supporting her means that she fights her own battles and I'm in her corner to root her on, bandage her up, give her water, pump her up, towel her sweaty face, etc... Enabling her means I push her out of the way and fight all the rounds for her. That is unhealthy for the both of us.

As of now, due to the research and diligence of her and her "Friend Inside", I am intrigued. I will be researching this subject, finding old cases, seeking affordable legal assistance, etc... I am just looking for someone to advise HER on steps SHE needs to take to move this along. She is finally fighting for herself again. She just needs me in her corner. I love my mother. I will support her through this!

Check out this cool video about how one man uses his love for music and dance to help change the lives of women in a maximum security prison. Prisoners at Maldon's Tarrengower Prison are the focus of a television choir program Jail Birds which was previously broadcast on TV ABC1.

3 Generations, Together After So Long

Last weekend, I took my grandmother to see my mom in prison. It was my mother's first time seeing her mother and only child at the same time in almost seven years (not including court dates where she was so heavily sedated that she was technically incoherent.)

It was a real treat for the three of us. It was ironically a very happy day. There we were, three generations of strong, independent women, chopping it up like the women of love that we are. The ironic part was that the strongest one of all, the one from the middle generation, is a CDCR prisoner.

It's so amazing watching our family grow since this tragedy which has become a blessing to myself, my mother and my family in so many ways. When I was born, I was born to a mother, two grandmothers, two great-grandmothers, a great-great-grandmother, two grandfathers and a surrogate great-great-grandfather. Of all of these people, all but one is the oldest of their generation. And that one, is an only child. I, too, am the oldest of my generation.

Growing up, this came with great responsibility. Truth be told, it sill does. The day my mom was arrested, I knew that day had come when I would have to be even more responsible than ever. I would have to carry the load of the strongest person alive in our family, while carrying the load of being the only one strong enough to carry her weight.

I know there are things that I could have said and done to be more supportive to those that needed me. But, all and all, I handled it the best way I knew how... alone. Once my mom's trials were over and she was finally Level 4 and "on the bus", it was time to concentrate on me again. I had forgotten who I was. I couldn't even remember what I was doing before this happened. Who were my friends? What did I like to do? What were my skills? What did I want out of life? Since I was unable to answer any of these questions, I had to take time out to reinvent myself.

Thanks to the encouragement (and pushiness) of my father, I found myself in and through God. I used His word and love to guide me to where He wanted me to be. I chose to forgive God for "making my life so bad." Which allowed me to forgive myself (for not finding a way to save my mother). From there, the forgiveness just rolled on and on until I wasn't even mad at my molester anymore.

So, it was interesting to see the three of us, three strong women, women who represent their generations, evolving, growing, loving, praying, preaching, sharing and caring. Only God knows what the meaning of all of this is. And, my faith tells me there is definitely a meaning, a spiritual purpose. Only God knows if the three of us will ever get to share those days together one day on the streets. But, I do know that prisoner or not, my mother will always have pride in her eyes when she sees her mother and/or her child. And, prisoner or not, my Granny and I will always love and support my mother no matter what.

During my mom's downward spiral, the drugs told her that her family did not love her and that she did not need her family. Now, as a prisoner, she loves and needs us more than ever. And, as a family, we were so fed up with her mess that we had given up on her. Now, we all know the importance of standing by her... of standing by each other.

What's the true irony of it all? That it took for my mom to go to prison for my entire family to learn to love each other unconditionally again, and function independently and as a family, without the strongest structure in the family.

The moral to this story: Love them all you can until... always!

I Am The Prisoner's Daughter

It's been a long 6 years, 11 months & 14 days since that horrible day when my mom was arrested. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. That day officially became the worst day of my life.

After 3 years of fighting 3 seperate cases, 2 hung jurys, 2 public defenders, 2 private attorneys, 5 judges and 4 district attorneys, she finally took a deal. I begged her to keep fighting, but 3 years in the county jail were just too unbearable. All she kept speaking of was grass, butterfiles, fresh air and outside. I had to try to understand. It was time for her to move on.

I am her 40 year old daughter who has never even been in handcuffs, let alone been arrested. She is my mother, a woman who prided herself on raising me right and making sure I know that I am entitled to the the best life has to offer... always. But, she is human. She made a mistake. And as she would do for me, I must stand by her.

It's been hard living my life out here in the world without my mother. She is the strongest woman I know. I have always been able to count on her. But, I must thank God that he put her in jail instead of letting her addiction cause her death. My mother is alive. And for that, I am grateful.

My mother may be a prison inmate, but I will never let her go through this alone. She is my mother. I am her daughter. Together, we will survive this and have great stories to tell.

Love,
The Prisoner's Daughter
prisonersdaughter@gmail.com