In 1996, I was sentenced to life in prison for my role in a nonviolent drug trafficking offense. It was the hardest day of my life. I knew I had done wrong by breaking the law, but the prospect of spending the rest of my life behind bars was shattering. Worse than anything else was the knowledge that I would be apart from my children and grandchildren for the rest of our lives.

As hard as I expected the separation from my family to be, it turned out to be even worse than I imagined. After I was convicted, I was sent to a prison 1,500 miles away from my children. I never saw them because they couldn’t afford to make the long journey to come and visit me. There were phone calls and occasional letters, but nothing could substitute for the emotional connection of actual human interaction.