Yesterday, I came across an email from April 2014, a desperate plea I had written to the Legislative Corrections Ombudsman.
Finding that and reading it again stopped me in my tracks. A wave of emotion came over me immediately. Every word felt raw. It was as if I could feel the exact moment I wrote it. The fear. The exhaustion. The determination. Reading it now, the emotions came right back to the surface.
At that time my family was navigating something that so many families of incarcerated people experience but very few people outside the system ever see. We were dealing with serious concerns inside the prison system. Significant medical and mental health issues and a prolonged restriction on visitation. Situations that felt deeply wrong and almost impossible to challenge from the outside.
And we had no idea where to go.
When you have a loved one inside, the system can feel completely closed off. Information is hard to get. Questions go unanswered. Families are left trying to understand rules, policies, and decisions that affect the people they love with very little guidance about where to turn.
The truth is that there are very few places families can go when something feels wrong inside a prison. Families may see medical neglect, prolonged isolation, unsafe conditions, or barriers to visitation and connection. They know something is not right, but they often have nowhere to bring those concerns where someone outside the system will truly look into them.
After my brother had been incarcerated for 5 years, someone told me there was an office that investigated concerns about the prison system. The Legislative Corrections Ombudsman. I remember the moment I heard that and the sense of relief that came with it. The idea that there might be someone whose job it is to look into what was happening inside prisons felt like a lifeline.
Reflecting on the letter, I realize how much hope I placed in that moment. Like many families, I believed that if I could just reach the right office, someone would step in and help.
Sadly, like many families navigating the system, our concerns did not resolve quickly. We had to continue searching for avenues of support, trying to understand what was happening and how to advocate for someone we loved from the outside.
Over time, I learned that oversight offices often have limited resources and capacity to fully address all of the concerns that are raised. Offices like the Legislative Corrections Ombudsman are often working with very small teams while receiving concerns from thousands of people across the state.
Looking back at that letter today reminded me of the sister I was at that time. Someone who was scared and hurting but still determined to fight for her brother. Someone who believed that if she could just reach the right person, someone might finally listen.
That moment also reminds me how important independent oversight truly is.
Right now there is legislation being considered in Michigan that would strengthen the authority of the Legislative Corrections Ombudsman. These bills would increase transparency by requiring public reporting, allow families to formally bring concerns forward, and give the office stronger tools to investigate what is happening inside correctional facilities.
Those changes matter.
An office like the Legislative Corrections Ombudsman carries enormous meaning for families whether the staff inside those offices realize it or not. For many people it represents the first place they believe someone outside the prison system might actually listen.
My hope is that we continue strengthening independent oversight so that when families reach out in moments of crisis, the system is ready to truly hear them.
Family Participation Program | Citizens for Prison Reform
