By Christopher Blackwell and Loretta Pierre for The Appeal.
Broadcast version by Danielle Smith for Mississippi News Connection reporting for The Appeal-Public News Service Collaboration

About a year ago, a close friend, Garrett Felber, told me about a project close to his heart—the campaign to Free the Mississippi Five (MS5). 

The MS5 are the last remaining women in Mississippi sentenced to life with the possibility of parole after ten years before the state virtually abolished parole in 1995. Although they are, ostensibly, parole-eligible, the state has routinely denied their release without reasonable justification. They each have been imprisoned for more than 30 years.

The five have each taken responsibility for the harm they caused and spent decades pursuing growth and repair. Felber sent me interviews he conducted with each person about their lives and the repeated, arbitrary denials by the Mississippi Parole Board. One of the group, Loretta Pierre, has been denied parole 14 times, more than any other woman in the state’s history. 

The more I learned, the more I wanted to help. So I am sharing the words of Loretta Pierre, who tells us her story and introduces us to the other four women with whom she has spent nearly four decades in prison. —Chris Blackwell 

My name is Loretta Pierre. In 1985, when I was 20 years old and five months pregnant, I shot a woman during an argument. I immediately called 911 for help. But tragically, she did not survive. 

When the police arrived, I was arrested for aggravated assault and eventually charged with murder. Once my court proceedings began, I had five mistrials before I was convicted at my sixth trial. In 1989, I was sentenced to life with the possibility of parole after ten years. 

I have now been in prison for 36 years and denied parole 14 times. I hold the record in the state of Mississippi for the number of times a woman has been denied. 

Before my conviction, I had never spent a single day in jail. The son I was pregnant with then is now 38 years old, and he has three daughters of his own. I have never met them. My Mama, my strongest supporter, died in September 2017, brokenhearted that I was never released in her lifetime. My sister, who was 10 years old when I was arrested, is now 49. And my brother, who was 24, is now 63. My siblings still support me, but with each parole denial, our hope of reuniting becomes more elusive. Nevertheless, we communicate daily and refuse to let this unreasonable punishment break us. 

I have completed more than 50 classes, courses, and programs in prison. Yet, when I last met with the parole board in January 2022, my file was completely empty and looked as if I had wasted decades doing nothing. There was no record of the job I held for more than 23 years; none of the letters of support that professors, friends, and family had sent in; or the document promising me a job when I came home. What was available for the board was my disciplinary record—the rule violations levied against me for filing grievances against the Mississippi Department of Corrections (MDOC) during my captivity. 

It has been a never-ending cycle that I’ve had to endure, day after day, year after year. I was not sentenced to life without parole or death by incarceration. Nor were the four other women from MS5 I want to introduce you to.

Evelyn Smith, 82, aka Mama E, has been incarcerated for 32 years for murder. She is an amazing cook, always makes extra for her friends, and has a remedy for anyone who is sick. Mama E’s last parole hearing in January 2022 lasted three minutes. They told her to come back in five years. I delivered the board’s decision to her in the privacy of her room. We shared our pain together, aware that she may not have another five years left to live but her faith in God is strong and she still holds hope she will one day be released.

Lisa Crevitt, 59, was just 20 years old when she succumbed to drug-induced psychotic delusions and dropped her child from a bridge. She has held the same job during her nearly 40 years in prison and has never received a single rule violation report. Lisa’s ex-husband and the deceased child’s father is now a judge in Warren County, Mississippi. Many believe that his political influence has kept Lisa imprisoned. Her first parole date was in 1995. The board has denied her nine times. 

Anita Krecic, 65, has been incarcerated since 1987, after her then-boyfriend shot and killed a Mississippi Highway Patrolman. Anita’s co-defendant, who shot the trooper, was executed in 2002. While incarcerated, she has consistently worked a job, earned over 100 college credits, and maintained an exemplary behavior record. She displays strong values, morals, and ethics in her daily life and is currently enrolled in seminary school. But in the lead-up to each of her parole hearings, signs opposing her release are typically posted throughout the county where she was convicted. In 2022, she was denied by the board and told to return in 2030. 

Linda Ross, 62, has been incarcerated since 1989 for killing a man who attacked her. She has maintained a job throughout her incarceration and is currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree. She is very generous and loves to cook for friends. Linda loves to share stories with those incarcerated with her. 

Each time we are denied parole, the board cites the “serious nature” of our crimes. None of us can change what we did—only who we have become since. I have completed every program MDOC has made available to me. That this doesn’t seem to matter makes me think that those with authority see no value in the department’s rehabilitation courses. These programs feel like a sham, nothing more than a way for crooked authorities to generate funding while putting on a show for the public. 

Change will not happen unless the public pressures those who oppress us without oversight. Without transparency and accountability, we five—and many like us across the country—will be forced to die behind these towering walls—not to provide safety for our communities, but for retribution and punishment. 

For this to change, we need your help! Our website includes our clemency petitions, ways to support us, and addresses to contact us—please share on social media so others can learn about our plight. Relationships and correspondence can be life-saving forms of support. For too long the parole board in Mississippi has been able to act as judge, jury, and executioner. We must build our collective strength to combat this repressive system. It is far past time for us to get a chance to return to our communities. 


Christopher Blackwell and Loretta Pierre wrote this article for The Appeal.


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In Indiana, the transition from prison back to society can be anything but smooth.

Many people released don't have a place to live and have difficulty with finding steady employment.

Indianapolis-based Give M3 Life began operating two male-only transitional housing facilities in 2022 to help keep people out of prison.

Executive Director Unique Webster explained that the facilities are calm and safe spaces that help people who are dealing with costly and stressful post-release mandates.

"All of these fees that you put on me - I have to pay for this GPS monitoring on a monthly basis. I have to go to these classes that I have to pay for. I have to come to court. I have to take these drug tests," said Webster. "I have to pay for those fees. And then I got legal fees, and I got child support fees. I have no job, so I can't pay these fees, and I'm stressed again."

Businesses are often reluctant to hire someone with a criminal record.

However, Webster said the majority of the men they work with have college degrees, marketable skills, and vocational training from before or during their incarceration.

She added that when they get out, they want to use those skills, but they're often not given the opportunity.

According to the Prison Policy Initiative, only 26% of people currently in prison have sought professional help to address mental health issues.

Webster said her organization's holistic approach to therapy helps people avoid distractions and find ways to decompress.

She said the stigma surrounding those who have been in prison can prevent them from getting the care and support they need.

"Many leaving the prison often have untreated or under treated physical and mental health issues," said Webster, "but face barriers assessing consistent care upon release."

The nature of someone's criminal offense can be a factor in substance abuse disorders and mental illness.

The Prison Policy Initiative identifies post-traumatic stress, manic depression, and bipolar disorder as the most common mental health diagnoses among the incarcerated.




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There are more than a dozen state and federal prisons in Central Appalachia, with some located in remote areas of West Virginia.

Connie Banta, board member of the Appalachian Prison Book Project, said the rural facilities face challenges in providing educational opportunities to incarcerated people. Her organization has donated more than 75,000 books to prison libraries in the region over the past two decades.

"Reading is one of the ways that people keep themselves healthy, both physically and mentally," Banta explained. "We feel like it's a basic human right that people have access to information and literature."

According to a report from the group PEN America, prison libraries are less funded than public school and community libraries and lack the resources needed to purchase books. Those available tend to be mostly westerns and romance novels.

The number of people held behind bars in West Virginia has jumped by more than 400% since 1970, according to the Vera Institute of Justice.

Banta emphasized reading can help people move forward in their own personal journey as they reenter society.

"We get many letters from people talking about how much it means to them that people who could be doing all kinds of other things take the time to mail them books," Banta reported.

"This Book Is Free and Yours to Keep: Notes from the Appalachian Prison Book Project" was recently selected by the Appalachian Studies Association for the 2024 Weatherford Award in Nonfiction.


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A Minnesota proposal is in the works that supporters say would end forced labor in correctional facilities.

They note the 13th Amendment was adopted nearly 160 years ago, but believe a form of slavery is still present in America's prisons. Advocacy groups point to wording in the Minnesota Constitution that there should be no slavery in the state, with exceptions for punishment for a crime. They say incarcerated people are exploited by having to work for 50 cents an hour, providing them little money to pay victims back, support their families or have resources to rebuild their lives post-release.

Aaron Ernst, who served time in Minnesota, said this overshadows other reforms.

"The rehabilitation part is kind of there," he said, "and then the reconnection to the community is just nonexistent."

While incarcerated, Ernst said he was outsourced for municipal work but would have had a hard time landing that same job after his release. The End Slavery in Minnesota Coalition is working with lawmakers on a bill for next year's session to classify these individuals as legal workers with specific rights. There are similar efforts elsewhere, but advocates say Colorado's reforms haven't ended the practice there.

By not providing a minimum wage, said David Boehnke, the coalition's lead organizer, they estimate the current pay structure in prisons steals $100 million each year from the poorest Minnesotans.

"If we want a safety system and not a slavery system, this is how we get it - we give people basic rights and basic wages," he said. "That lifts up their whole communities, and that allows people to repair harm they've caused in a meaningful way."

Groups pushing for change add that the longstanding effects of slavery are still found in incarceration numbers. Nearly 40% of people held in Minnesota prisons are Black - despite representing less than 8% of the state's overall population.

In a statement, the Department of Corrections said it's committed to providing work experiences for incarcerated individuals that improve fundamental skills and can lead into opportunities for more technical training. It said that can help create a successful re-entry.


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