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

  AZDOC loves to talk about accountability. They say it like punishment automatically equals responsibility. It doesn’t. Arizona Department of Corrections has confused consequence with accountability , and that confusion is one of the main reasons it fails so consistently. Let’s make this clean and logical. Accountability Requires Understanding. Punishment Requires Nothing. Accountability means a person: Understands what they did Understands why they did it Understands the impact Has the tools to do something different next time Punishment requires none of that. Punishment only requires power. AZDOC skips the thinking part and goes straight to consequences. No inquiry. No analysis. No correction of underlying behavior. Just penalties. That’s not accountability. That’s behavioral suppression. AZDOC’s Model: Fear First, Growth Never AZDOC operates on a lazy framework: Rule broken → punishment issued → problem “solved” Except it isn’t. What actually hap...

Let’s get one thing straight before anyone gets defensive. If a system takes people in broken and releases them more damaged , less regulated , and less capable of functioning , that system failed. Not philosophically. Not emotionally. Mathematically. Arizona Department of Corrections calls itself a rehabilitation system. That label collapses the second you look at outcomes instead of slogans. Rehabilitation requires improvement. AZDOC produces deterioration. That’s not an opinion. That’s cause and effect. AZDOC Confuses Control With Change AZDOC operates on a fundamentally flawed assumption: If you force compliance long enough, behavior will improve. That assumption is wrong. Compliance under threat is not growth. It’s survival behavior. People do what they must to avoid punishment, not because they’ve learned anything meaningful. Here’s the logic AZDOC uses: Follow the rule = good Break the rule = bad Punish “bad” until it stops No analysis. No context. N...

This morning, while Arizona was just waking up, families of incarcerated people stood outside the Arizona Department of Corrections Central Office and refused to be invisible. There were no bullhorns. No chaos. No theatrics. Just people — mothers, wives, daughters, friends — holding signs, holding ground, and holding the truth. Twenty of us showed up. And that mattered. Because silence is what this system depends on. We Were Ignored — On Purpose When we first arrived, a woman opened the door for someone else, looked directly at us, and shut it again without a word. That moment told us everything. This system is comfortable ignoring families. It always has been. But today, we didn’t leave. We waited. We stayed visible. We stayed calm. And eventually, they had no choice. A guard — whose name we were not given — finally accepted our demand letter. Let that be clear: They did not welcome it. They did not address us. But they took it. And that alone is proof that showing up...

  (Because It Ain’t the Inmates) Let me get this straight. You’ve restricted phone calls. You’ve digitized mail and then acted surprised when it disappears. You’ve tightened commissary limits so hard they’ve become survival barriers instead of “inventory management.” And now — coffee, peanut butter, and ramen — the literal staples inmates live on — are being stripped away or priced out of reach. You call it policy........I call it control. And I’m done pretending those two things aren’t the same. “Inventory Management,” According to ADCRR In a January 2026 commissary update, ADCRR announced new food purchase and possession limits, stating the changes were necessary to address what they described as “excessive inventory.” That’s the justification. Not safety. Not violence. Not contraband. Inventory. They went on to say they “acknowledge the concerns” and appreciate the understanding of the “community and stakeholders.” Let’s pause right there — because words ...

  Let me make sure I’ve got this right, Arizona Department of Corrections. First, you: Take away in-person visits Then video visits Then announce you’ll be cutting phone calls Then move all mail to digital-only , knowing damn well tablets are broken, backlogged, or nonexistent And now — surprise! — you’ve decided to: Cut food portions Restrict commissary purchases Limit access to basic hygiene, nutrition, and supplemental food All in the name of “managing excessive inventory.” Excessive inventory. That’s a wild way to say “we’re cutting off the last scraps of dignity inmates can control for themselves.” LET’S CALL THIS WHAT IT IS This isn’t about inventory. This isn’t about safety. This isn’t about rehabilitation. This is about control through deprivation . When you strip communication, food access, hygiene options, and human connection all at once, you aren’t “adjusting policy.” You’re tightening the chokehold. BUT DON’T WORRY — THEY “ACKNOWLEDGE C...

  AZDOC ANNOUNCEMENT — LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS MESS. So Arizona Department of Corrections just proudly announced they’re going “digital-only” for inmate mail as of December 15, 2025. Sounds real modern. Sounds real efficient. Sounds real SAFE. Except… it collapses the second you apply reality. Let’s break this down in plain English. ALL GENERAL MAIL = DIGITAL ONLY. Mail will be scanned off-site and delivered to inmates through tablets. Cool. Now here’s what AZDOC has ALSO told families and inmates directly: • Tablets are a PRIVILEGE, not a right • There is a SEVERE shortage of tablets • There is a waiting list • They don’t know when inmates will receive one • NO Securus representative on site at Lewis • Tablet repairs/replacements are backlogged for a month or more • Securus “has nothing to do with tablets” after selling the contract • Families are told DO NOT contact the facility • Inmates must contact internal staff through "kites" (which they also expect them to do ELECTRONI...

There are emotions that scream. And then there are emotions that go silent. Lately, mine have gone quiet. Ryan and I have been through hell and back over the past two and a half years — the kind of hell you don’t come back from unchanged. The kind that strips you down to survival mode and leaves you standing there wondering when you stopped feeling so much… and why that now feels like relief. He relapsed. And while the world loves a clean, simple explanation for relapse, the truth is messier. His reasons are tangled in trauma, in a past that never loosened its grip, in wounds that existed long before I ever entered his life. Addiction didn’t start with me, and it didn’t end because of love — no matter how much we wish it worked that way. As for me? I learned about a world I only thought existed on television. Drugs. Addiction. Street life. Prison culture. Relapse cycles. Withdrawal. Chaos disguised as normal. Survival disguised as strength. I didn’t grow up in this world. I did...