Amika Moda

Her mom, Joni, never wavered in her support.

She sent her articles about the accident that she'd print out from the internet, but said she wouldn't send the comments because they were too hurtful.

Did you at that moment not know who you were anymore?

Or was it just that other people didn't know who you were anymore?

Amika didn't really reach out to anyone much during this time.

But there was another woman in her cell named Casper.

She was pale.

And Casper and Amika would sometimes watch TV together or eat together.

And Casper was really young.

Amika didn't quite realize the significance of that until one night, in their cell...

In the top bunk in the dim cell, Amika hugged her and wiped her tears.

Amika started waking up at the 5 a.m.

count when the flashlight hit her pillow, and one morning she dug her journal out of her locker.

Amika said this is how she survived in prison for a long time.

She allowed herself to be a mom, despite the fact that she felt she was no longer entitled to that role.

She loved people in prison.

She'd spend hours helping folks with their cases in the law library.

She'd help younger ones who didn't know they were about to get into a lot of trouble.

But after about five years, it was all taking a toll on her.

Because loving women who are living in this system is hard.