From Guard to Wife: My Journey in the Shadows of the Justice System

  Here we go again. Another woman, another broken promise behind razor wire. Another excuse that starts with “funding” and ends with neglect. Tammy’s story is not new. It’s not unique. And that’s the biggest tragedy of all. Because her life—and her vision—matter. And so does every other person sitting in a Federal Bureau of Prisons (FBOP) facility, hoping for even the most basic human care. Recently, Tammy reached out to share what’s been going on at her facility, and I think it speaks for itself: "Recently I wrote about how the BOP seems to be broke. They took away several items at food service due to funding—like the salad bar (which, by the way, was just plain lettuce mix and generic dressing), they’ve limited eggs (maybe understandable with the bird flu), and removed extra items like beans and rice. What I didn’t mention, but probably should have, is that my prison doesn’t even repurpose leftovers. They literally throw away pounds and pounds of food daily from our kitche...

This morning, my hands trembled a little as I sealed three large envelopes—each one packed with 43 pages of truth, testimony, and a desperate plea for mercy . These weren’t just documents… they were pieces of our story, pieces of our hope, and pieces of Ryan’s heart. Those three envelopes are now officially on their way to: The Department of Justice President Donald Trump at the White House His administration committee in New York These clemency packets represent everything we’ve been fighting for—every sleepless night, every tear shed, every prayer whispered. They are now out of my hands and into the hands of those who have the power to change the course of Ryan’s life forever. And now, we wait. And we pray. And we hope with everything we’ve got. Advocating for Ryan isn’t easy—because telling the truth about his past means reliving pain that most people wouldn’t survive. Ryan grew up in a home where trauma was woven into the walls. Addiction, dysfunction, and survival beca...

Let’s go ahead and call it for what it is — pathetic . You don’t want to be in my life. You don’t want to talk to me. You’ve made it crystal clear that you want nothing to do with me. So why in the world are you still stalking everything I do online like it’s your full-time job? Seriously. You can’t stand me, yet you’re glued to every post, every update, every word I type. You’ve turned lurking into an Olympic sport — and for what? So you can run back like some messy little informant to say, “OHHHHH look what DeAnna wrote now!” Are you really that bored? That bitter? That empty inside? It’s actually sad. Truly. Because while I’m out here living my life, building something with purpose, advocating for change, healing, loving, growing — you’re stuck in the shadows , obsessed with a life you’re no longer part of. You’re not watching to support me. You’re watching to gossip. To judge. To "report back" like you’re in some 7th grade clique. It’s laughable, really. You want nothing ...

The Lewis Prison Complex, located in Buckeye, Arizona, comprises eight units, including the Bachman Unit, where my husband is currently incarcerated. This unit houses inmates under protective custody, ranging from minimum to medium security levels, with a capacity of 752 inmates across four dormitory-style buildings. ( corrections.az.gov ) Systemic Issues Plaguing the Facility Over the years, the Lewis Complex has been marred by numerous incidents that highlight systemic issues within its walls: Contraband Infiltration: In January 2025, a correctional officer named Berman Comon was arrested for allegedly smuggling drugs and contraband cellphones into the Rast Unit of Lewis Prison. Comon, who had served as a counselor for 11 years, reportedly received $5,000 per trip to bring in the illicit items. ( abc15.com ) Inmate Unrest: In November 2018, surveillance footage revealed inmates in the Rast Max Unit setting fires outside their cells, leading to the evacuation of the entire unit. Thi...

For years, La Palma Correctional Facility in Eloy, Arizona, has been a hotspot for controversy, yet little has been done to address the rampant corruption, officer misconduct, and systemic failures that have turned it into a living hell for those incarcerated within its walls. Most recently, another inmate has died—one of many whose deaths could have been prevented if those in charge had taken real action instead of covering up their negligence. On January 2, 2025, I fought to have my husband moved out of La Palma due to the sheer volume of drugs flooding the yard, which were being brought in by correctional officers. I reported specific names to the Special Security Unit (SSU), thinking that doing the right thing would bring change. Instead, my concerns fell on deaf ears. Now, here we are, with more inmates losing their lives—many of these deaths are suspected overdoses, yet little to no investigation ever seems to result in actual change. A History of Negligence and Deaths This lates...

Being a prison wife is not for the weak. It is an emotional roller coaster, a test of patience, love, and endurance. There are days when the weight of it all feels unbearable, when the walls of the prison aren't just around him but around me too. The waiting, the isolation, the judgment from those who will never understand—it's a constant battle. But the hardest part? Loving someone who has been broken beyond what most can comprehend. I married an addict. Not just any addict, but a man whose entire life has been shaped by trauma, by abandonment, by a pain so deep that it has dictated every decision he's ever made. His mother walked away. His father fed his addiction instead of his soul. His family left him to fend for himself, failing to see the little boy crying out for love, for safety, for someone to care. And when the world has done nothing but turn its back on him, how could he possibly believe that I would stay? Every day, I fight against his demons alongside him. Eve...