To the Badge-Heavy, Nose-Up, ‘I’d Never’ Crowd — Sit Down, Let Me Educate You

There’s a special kind of ignorance that comes slithering out when people find out I was a correctional officer who married an inmate.

It’s like watching a toddler discover electricity—messy, confused, and one wrong move away from getting shocked into reality.

And honestly?

At this point in my life, I’m done whispering.

I’m done being polite.

I’m done acting like everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.

Some of y’all need a full Beth Dutton baptism—head shoved straight into the cold river of truth, held there long enough to reset whatever nonsense is floating around in your skull.

So let’s get a few things straight.

1. “Cool officer”? Baby, I wasn’t cool. I was RESPECTED. There’s a difference.

These Facebook warriors love to come in hot with their little “Never be the cool officer!” speeches.

Sweetheart… I wasn’t “cool.”

I wasn’t your soft, goofy, I-want-inmates-to-like-me officer.

I was the officer you didn’t play with.

I was the officer who could walk into a dorm with 150 men and not raise my voice once because every man in the room already knew:

Disrespect me, and I will remove your entire livelihood like a tornado in steel-toed boots.

But here’s the thing the badge-heavy crowd never understands:

Respect in prison isn't given to the loudest.

It’s given to the most consistent.

You treat men like humans?

They treat you like you matter.

You treat them like animals?

They’ll treat you like a joke.

Not complicated.

2. “You married an inmate, you look like a clown.”

Oh honey… no. Sit down.

This one cracks me up every time.

People act like marrying an inmate is the worst thing a woman could possibly do—meanwhile half the “perfect” folks throwing stones have cheated on spouses, snorted coke off a steering wheel, or run from the police at 17 and conveniently forgot about it.

But I’m the clown?

Please.

Some of y’all commit a felony every morning speeding to your miserable little job with expired tags and no insurance, but sure—tell me again how morally superior you are.

Let’s call this what it is:

People love pointing at someone else's life so they don’t have to look at their own.

My husband isn’t perfect—hell, no one in this world is. But he owns his shit. He works on himself. He’s loyal. He loves me with a level of intensity most people will never experience.

And some folks hate that.

Because it reminds them they’ve never been loved like that a day in their lives.

3. “Inmates aren’t good people.”

Funny… because I’ve met COs who’d sell their soul for overtime.

Let me tell you a little secret:

Prison will show you who the real criminals are.

And spoiler alert:

It’s not always the ones wearing orange.

I’ve seen COs steal, smuggle, assault, lie, manipulate, cheat, abuse power, and clock out at 4 p.m. like they’re God’s favorite employee.

I’ve seen officers with more skeletons than the men they’re guarding.

I’ve seen staff commit crimes on duty that would put an inmate in max custody for decades.

But sure… let’s pretend inmates are “the bad ones” and staff is pure.

It’s delusion at its finest.

4. I didn’t marry an inmate.

I married a man the world tried to break—and failed.

Let me make one thing crystal clear:

I didn’t “fall for an inmate.”

I fell for the man who talked to me like I mattered.

The man who understood my soul without trying.

The man who protected me more fiercely than men on the outside ever did.

I fell for someone who has survived more hell than most people could withstand.

A gangster who learned the hard way that loyalty, love, and pain carve a man deeper than concrete walls ever could.

And yes—he loves me like a gangster loves his queen:

Ruthlessly. Honestly. Eternally.

If you don’t understand that kind of love?

That’s not my problem.

5. If you’re offended… maybe it hit too close to home.

I’m not here to coddle anyone’s ego.

If you feel attacked reading this?

Ask yourself why.

Because here’s the truth:

I don’t need validation from people who’ll never know what real loyalty looks like.

I don’t need approval from officers whose entire identity depends on a badge.

I don’t need applause from people who have no idea what resilience, forgiveness, or unconditional love actually requires.

I know who I am.

I know who my husband is.

And I know our love is something most people will never have the depth, courage, or honesty to experience.

So keep your comments.

Keep your judgment.

Keep your assumptions.

I didn’t ask for permission to love my husband,

and I sure as hell don’t need permission to stand by him.

Final Thought From Your Friendly Former CO Turned Gangster’s Wife:

If you don’t know what you’re talking about… respectfully, shut the hell up.

Because the day you walk in my shoes—

as an officer,

as a prison wife,

as a woman who loves a man society threw away—

then maybe, maybe, you’ll earn the right to open your mouth about any of this.

Until then?

Stay in your lane.

And try using your blinker once in your life.

That’s also technically a felony.