A prison sentence does more than separate a person from society. It can make you feel invisible. I know that feeling. When I began serving a 45-year federal sentence, I lost my freedom, my reputation, and eventually my marriage. I do not blame anyone else for that. I made the decisions that brought me to prison. I also learned a lesson that changed the rest of my life: if I wanted a better future, I had to build bridges to the world while I was still inside.
That lesson matters whether you are going through federal prison preparation, helping a loved one survive a prison term, or thinking about reentry planning long before release day. The world keeps moving while you are inside. Relationships change. People adapt. If you want support waiting for you on the other side, you have to start building it now.
Use Every Available Way to Stay Connected
In prison, connection does not happen by accident. You have to work for it.
Most people inside rely on four basic ways to stay in touch with the outside world: prison email systems such as TRULINCS and Corrlinks, phone calls, mail, and visiting. Each one comes with limits. Messages move slower than normal email. Phone time is controlled. Mail can be delayed and monitored. Visiting requires approval, scheduling, travel, money, and real sacrifice from the people who love you.
Even with those barriers, I want you to think beyond simple contact. Do not just ask, “How can I send a message?” Ask, “How can I strengthen a relationship?” That question leads to better decisions. A short message can keep hope alive. A thoughtful letter can deepen trust. A visit can remind both people that the relationship still has value.
If you are a family member or an advocate, your consistency matters. A reply, a letter, or a visit may seem small on the outside, but inside prison, those actions can help a person stay focused, disciplined, and connected to a better future.
Build a Plan That Changes How People See You
When I was in solitary confinement, I began asking myself a hard question: what would law-abiding citizens expect from me if I wanted them to give me a second chance?
That question led me to a three-part plan. First, I needed to get an education. Second, I needed to contribute to society in meaningful, measurable ways. Third, I needed to build a support network.
I could not change the fact that authorities had convicted me of a serious drug offense. I could change the way I responded. So I wrote to universities. I earned an undergraduate degree from Ohio University in 1992. I continued with graduate studies. As I studied prisons and wrote about reform, I became a published author. Professors began using my work. Students began reading it. Over time, more people started to see me as more than the crime that had brought me to prison.
That is the power of a plan. Education led to contribution. Contribution led to credibility. Credibility helped me build support.
Write Your Story Before the System Writes It for You
People often describe my life as one of those prison success stories. I understand why. While serving my sentence, I met Carol, the woman who became my wife. But that relationship did not begin with luck alone. It began with a body of work.
A student who read my writing learned that I had graduated from Shorecrest High School in Seattle. He contacted the school, and his inquiry reached Carol, who was organizing our 20-year reunion. She wrote to me. I wrote back. Soon we were exchanging long letters every day, sometimes 20 pages at a time. I numbered the pages and kept them in order because I knew they were becoming part of a larger story. I did not have internet when I started. I had the will to write, and that was enough to begin.
That story grew because I kept writing. Carol later helped manage a website where I published articles about prison reform and the changes I believed would lead to better outcomes. The website expanded my network. The letters deepened our relationship. On August 13, 2012, Carol picked me up from prison. It was the first time we had been together outside a visiting room since the day she married me in June 2002.
When people tell me I was lucky, I agree that luck played a role. But luck had room to work because I had spent years preparing. My writing, my education, and my commitment allowed Carol to see something more than the label of “coke dealer.” That is the opportunity I want you to create for yourself.
Build a Profile, a Record, and a Future
The most important message I can give you is simple: start documenting your growth now.
Write letters. Use the prison communication systems available to you. Nurture relationships with family, friends, mentors, professors, and anyone willing to see your potential. Most of all, create a record of the steps you are taking to prepare for success.
That is one reason we built the free profile system at Prison Professors. I want people inside to have a place where they can show the world who they are becoming. Your profile can become a portfolio, a communication center, and a living record of your progress. It can support reentry planning. It can help you build credibility. It can help others see the work you are doing long before release day arrives.
I tell people to be the CEO of their own lives. Think about the best possible outcome. Then build the tools, tactics, and resources that can move you closer to that result. I began that work from a solitary cell while facing what felt like a life sentence. Because I started early, I came home to support, opportunity, meaningful work, and the love of my life.
You can begin that process today. It is never too early, and it is never too late. But you should feel urgency. The future you want will not appear on its own. You have to build it.
Question for your profile: What can I start building today—through education, contribution, and relationships—that will help others see who I am becoming, and how will I document that progress on my profile? Write your response and publish it on your profile to show the steps you are taking to prepare for higher levels of success.