By Taylor Sisk for The Daily Yonder.
Broadcast version by Nadia Ramlagan for Kentucky News Connection for the Public News Service/Daily Yonder Collaboration

“Every time I was incarcerated,” Brittany Herrington said, “every single time, I did not want to do drugs when I left. I wanted to get a job, get a home, get my kid back. Every single time. Nothing was gonna stop me. 

“But no one sat me down and said, ‘When you get out, it’s going to be really, really hard. There are steps you have to take to make these things happen.’”

One Tuesday morning not long ago, Herrington sat in a conference room at the Greenup County Detention Center in Eastern Kentucky and recalled her years cycling through the criminal justice system while in the throes of addiction to prescription pain pills. 

Herrington is a Greenup County native. “This was my first home away from home, at 18 years old,” she said, in reference to this very structure. “Right here. Cried the whole three days.” 

“Every time I went to jail, I wanted to get better,” she asserted. “But I had no examples of how to do otherwise.”

Herrington eventually found a model of stability – a woman who had faced similar challenges and overcome them – and today she’s project coordinator for First Day Forward, a program offering support and assistance to people with substance use disorder who are reentering their community after incarceration. 

The program was created through a Rural Communities Opioid Response Program grant from the federal Health Resources and Services Administration and operates under the Northeast Kentucky Substance Use Response Coalition, a partnership of multiple organizations throughout the region. It’s now in place in seven rural Eastern Kentucky counties: Carter, Clark, Greenup, Mason, Powell, Rowan, and Montgomery.

“Every time I left incarceration,” Herrington said, “I was faced with everything that I had left: same people, same places, same habits, same routines; no new skills. And it got worse really, really quick.” 

“We don’t want that for our people,” she said. First Day Forward offers a stable foundation from which to build.

Been Through It

First Day Forward was born of interviews conducted with people in area jails living with a substance use disorder, asking them what they would need when they got out for a successful reentry to the community and to support their recovery.

The program is for those who have a self-identified substance use disorder; it’s important they acknowledge they have a disorder. Most critical is that “they want to work to change,” Herrington said. “You’ve got to want to put the work in.” 

The lynchpins of the program are its peer support specialists. Randy West is one such. Like Herrington, he’s a Greenup County native. And also like Herrington, he was no stranger to this detention center. 

West estimates he’s been provided accommodations in these jail cells on 18 occasions, the first for a DUI. In his early 20s, he entered a cycle that took him from alcohol to Xanax to prescription opioids to heroin; he was “running the streets” selling drugs. 

“Quite a few years of my life – I can’t remember much of it,” West said. It took a few tries, but he eventually found the treatment he needed. He now mentors those who will benefit from his wisdom.

“One of the first questions I get asked by new participants,” West said, “is if I’ve been through what they’ve been through” – has he slept in those racks, felt the paralysis of despair. “And whenever they know that, they’re so much more comfortable. They’re like, ‘Okay, I can loosen up and talk with this guy.’”

Participation in the program generally begins 60 to 90 days prior to release, with both individual and group meetings. A needs assessment is conducted at the outset; a case plan is then mapped to establish objectives and how to attain them. 

Among the things participants most urgently need is something as fundamental as an ID, a social security card, or a birth certificate. Some 70% of screened inmates identify as needing at least one of those three.

First Day Forward alum Brandon Adams had never had a driver’s license. He now has one, drives a minivan, regained custody of his three daughters, and also has custody of a granddaughter. And he met his fiancé through the program. 

“We’ve been together almost three years,” he said. “We keep each other in line.” 

Cassidy Begeot serves as the First Day Forward peer support specialist for women in Greenup County. “I did two years in three different county jails,” she said, “and the whole time I sat in there I really knew I wanted something different. I would replay all the things I had learned in groups, from social workers, from people that came in and out of my life … and I knew I wanted something different. I just didn’t know how to get it.”

Begeot’s work as a peer support specialist offers “a constant reminder of where I was, where I want to be, where I don’t want to be again,” she said. “And I need that daily.”

Moreover, the job offers full-time employment with benefits.

‘Real Now, Right?’

The day of release from jail, the participant is met by their peer support specialist and the case plan is revisited. 

“Because stuff’s real now, right?” said Herrington. “We planned for this two months ago … but now we’re here. So what are we doing today? What are we doing this week? What are we doing long term? What do we want? We’ve got these needs; we’ve got these wants. It’s here now.” 

Over the next 90 days, as many objectives are met as possible. That period can then be extended as necessary. 

A relapse doesn’t mean mandatory expulsion.

“We give them the opportunity to restart, and help them along the way,” said Carla Terry, First Day Forward project director for three counties. But they must show a willingness to keep working toward their recovery. And some further reassessing, recalibrating of that case plan, may be in order.

“If the medication for diabetes is not working, we’ve got to change the diet, right?” Herrington said. “We’ve got to change the diet and maybe change the medicine.” Likewise with substance use disorder. There are myriad paths to recovery.

Perhaps the biggest obstacle in a successful transition is affordable housing. Like most everywhere else in the country, rural and urban, there’s precious little in this region. Then there’s the issue of background checks and landlords who won’t lease to those with felonies on their record.

First Day Forward peer support specialists help break down some of those barriers, guiding participants toward available resources. And their presence in the community helps counter the stigma around substance use disorder.

‘Offered Us Grace’

Judges want options, Herrington said. “I think we’ve heard that from almost every county where we sat down and met with judges at the onset of these projects. They’ve said, ‘We want more alternative-sentencing options.’”

When Greenup County Jailer Larry Pancake took office in January 2023, he enthusiastically embraced introducing First Day Forward into his facility. “I think everybody’s broken, including myself, in some way or another,” he said. He’s a strong proponent of rendering a jail term restorative.

Robert Sanders came to work in July as Pancake’s chief deputy after 30 years with the sheriff’s department. He said that on his first day on the job “I knew more inmates than I did employees” – the faces of so many he’d brought to the jail countless times.

Sanders said the jail had been, essentially, “a storage house for trouble; just throw ’em away and forget about it.” He believes First Day Forward has already begun to improve the recidivism rate there. “What they’re doing helps; it works.” 

The recidivism rate for those who’ve successfully completed the program throughout the region is 23.5%, while the general recidivism rate in, for example, Clark County is 53.2%.

For Casey Moore, the program was “the foundation I needed to be loved back to life.” Her addiction started with prescription pain pills; she then transitioned to heroin. She was in and out of jail and living on the streets, no contact with her kids.

She’s now the assistant general manager of a restaurant where she’s proactive in hiring people who’re in treatment, then lending them support. 

“I’ll go pick them up for work,” Moore said. “I’ll take them home from work. I work with them on their schedule so they can go to their meetings. I help them with housing; I connect them with people in the community.” 

After successfully completing the First Day Forward program, Moore still faced charges that had a mandatory sentence of seven years; but there’s a stipulation in the law that if incarcerating someone would be detrimental to the community, the sentence can be probated. 

All parties agreed “that it would do more harm to her community to put this girl in jail,” Herrington said, “because she had done so much work changing her community.”

“I think one thing that, across the board, we all have in common,” Herrington said, “is someone offered us grace in our recovery. Someone offered us grace – and someone provided a model for us to follow.”


Taylor Sisk wrote this article for The Daily Yonder.


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Mother's Day has a special place in the heart of a Michigan woman whose mother's incarceration kept them separated for decades.

Jen Szénay of Michigan said in 1990, her mother was sentenced to life in prison for the death of her husband, in a murder-for-hire case.

Szénay explained that her mom is a domestic-abuse survivor who didn't feel protected by the law.

She said two men carried out the murder of her father - and her mom, who maintains her innocence, was accused of conspiring with them.

Szénay's mother was given a commutation from the governor and released from prison last March. Szénay shared what that first Mother's Day with her mom was like after three decades apart.

"Overjoyed to be together, but it was just like so much shock still surrounding it," said Szénay. "I mean, we had been apart since May 24, 1990. So just to be able to, like, sit with her, hold her hand. It's weird to talk about because there's so many little things that you don't realize that you miss in a person until you don't have it."

Szénay is the communications coordinator for the Michigan Collaborative to End Mass Incarceration, an organization advocating for second-chance legislation.

It would pave the way for those serving a long prison sentence to re-enter society if they're deemed to no longer pose a risk to the community.

Incarcerated individuals would need to petition their sentencing judge for a reduction of their sentence.

With statistics showing average annual prison costs of between $34,000 and $48,000 per person - not including health care - policy researchers estimate savings of approximately $200 million a year through second-chance legislation.

"A lot of these women are victims themselves of domestic violence, of sex trafficking," said Szénay. "To have the ability to go back and say, 'Look, this happened when I was 18, 19, 25, you know, any age, 30, whatever. This is who I am today.'"

Szénay said that money saved by reducing excessive prison sentences could be reinvested in violence prevention, victim services and mental health.

"Why these cases are so deserving of a second look," said Szénay, "is because when you hear the stories, you're like, how did this person get so much time for this situation?"

Michigan has roughly 44,000 people confined or detained, and the state spends nearly 20% of its General Fund on prisons - adding up to more than $2 billion per year.

A North Carolina group hopes to help people stay out of prison by connecting them to critical resources.

Recidivism Reduction Educational Programs Services is launching a new hotline to help formerly incarcerated people with re-entry services.

Kerwin Pittman, the organization's founder, said he found it tough getting connected to the right people as a returning citizen nearly seven years ago and in 2024, he said the issue still exists.

"What we realized that across North Carolina, the connectivity wasn't happening at all," Pittman pointed out. "You would have people returning, citizens, family members, those who wanted to get help for these individuals trying to reach out for services and needed services but just couldn't find them."

The hotline connects callers to real people who essentially create a bridge directly to services in the community. Pittman noted since its launch last Monday, more than 100 people have used the call center to get connected to housing and jobs. To contact the center, call 1-888-852-0004.

In North Carolina, 44% of people are re-arrested within two years of being released from state prisons. Pittman acknowledged it can be challenging to have a successful transition when you don't know where to start and emphasized one small resource can be the key to getting on track.

"You'd be surprised how many individuals come home and don't just have simple identification," Pittman emphasized. "And we know without identification, you can't receive benefits that you may be eligible for, you can't receive a job, you can't receive housing. And so everything kind of plays into each other."

In addition to closing gaps and getting people to services, Pittman said he hopes it inspires others to find innovative ways to make connection easier for people affected by the justice system. Earlier this year at the state level, Gov. Roy Cooper signed Executive Order 303 to improve re-entry.

Mississippi prisons often lack resources to treat people who are incarcerated with substance-use disorders adequately but a nonprofit organization is offering alternative programs focused on treatment instead of incarceration.

The Magnolia State has one of the highest incarceration rates in the nation, with more than 1,000 people per 100,000 residents behind bars.

Christina Dent, founder and president of End It For Good, said they invite people to support approaches to drugs prioritizing life, preserving families and promoting public safety.

"We do education out in the community - with citizens, with advocates, with policymakers - to help them understand why a punitive criminal justice approach to drugs and addiction has not produced good results and why a health-centered approach would produce much better results," Dent explained.

It is estimated more than 578,000 people in state and federal prisons in 2022 had a substance-use disorder in the year prior to their admission, according to the Prison Policy Initiative.

Dent emphasized they recommend lawmakers look at other alternatives to stop reactionary approaches resulting in Mississippians paying harsher penalties for crimes such as drug possession.

"Shift away from increasing penalties," Dent urged. "Another thing that we could do would be to reduce penalties or recategorize penalties for something like drug possession. We would love to see a shift from treating drug possession as potentially a felony to drug possession being a misdemeanor. "

Dent noted such an alternative approach would allow individuals impacted to more easily regain employment, support their families and reintegrate into society. She added felony convictions create lifelong barriers to employment and self-sufficiency.


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