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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In Mississippi, where thousands of people are serving life sentences, the impact of long-term imprisonment falls disproportionately on Black communities. Their advocates are raising concerns about the state's sentencing practices. And they're urging legislative reforms to reduce what they call "extreme sentences" and to address racial inequities in the system.

Celeste Barry, program associate with The Sentencing Project, co-authored a new report on the effects of long-term imprisonment. She said in Mississippi, more than 2,300 people are serving life sentences - and nearly three-quarters have no opportunity for parole.

"We see in Mississippi some extreme racial disparities that are far greater than the national average. So, over 70% of the life sentence population is Black in Mississippi, and that's compared to the still troubling 45% nationally" she explained.

Groups like hers are pushing for reforms to address these disparities. Barry highlights Oklahoma as an example, where the state passed the Domestic Violence Survivors Justice Act, allowing incarcerated individuals to seek reduced sentences if they can prove that abuse played a role in their crime.

Barry believes similar reforms could offer significant relief in Mississippi, especially given the state's disproportionately high number of women serving life sentences without parole.

"And this has the power to bring relief to hundreds of survivors in the state, and could be particularly meaningful in a state like Mississippi, where they have the largest share of their female life-sentenced population serving life without parole," she continued.

In 2021, Mississippi lawmakers passed a bipartisan bill to reduce the prison population by expanding parole opportunities for nonviolent offenders, but Gov. Tate Reeves vetoed it, citing public safety concerns.

Services for North Carolinians affected by the justice system is going mobile.

The Recidivism Reduction Educational Program Services mobile resource center is hitting the road today to provide reentry support across the state. It is the first effort of its kind.

Kerwin Pittman, founder and executive director of the organization, said the center will meet North Carolinians where they are, literally.

"What we wanted to do was bring a plethora of resources into these communities," Pittman explained. "Particularly communities that are highly impacted by recidivism and incarceration, and bring a wealth of resources to them to hopefully curb the recidivism rate."

The center had its unveiling and ribbon cutting on Tuesday and is starting in the Raleigh-Durham area today. Pittman pointed out it is the first of four units he hopes to have running by the end of the year. They will be located in different parts of the state and rotate throughout their region each week.

Pittman emphasized the units will be able to provide a long list of services.

"Some of those services range from social-benefit assistance to employment assistance to education and skill development to offering support and mental health services, substance misuse treatment and services, housing assistance, legal support, family and community support, digital literacy," Pittman outlined.

He added they will also provide inclement weather supplies, hygiene kits and local reentry resources through the organization's call center.

Places like NC Works Career Centers and other state services are able to provide local resources. But Pittman noted the services can be hard to access without a car, which can deter people.

"It's hard to walk in the cold to NC Works Center to sit in there and have to go through no telling what the intake process is, just to get whatever benefit that you may be trying to apply for or a resume or try to find a job," Pittman observed.

The battle over Jefferson County's 2021 redistricting maps heads to court this week with plaintiffs arguing the map violates the Voting Rights Act and the Constitution.

The case, McClure v. Jefferson County Commission, claims Black voters were unfairly packed into two districts, diluting their influence in others.

Zephyr Scalzetti, program specialist for Alabama Values, a nonprofit advocacy group focused on promoting civic engagement, pro-democracy policies and fair representation on issues such as voting rights and redistricting, said the case is about more than lines on a map; it is about ensuring every voter has an equal voice.

"You look at the map overall. Jefferson County residents are willing to elect Black representatives but it is impossible for a Black candidate to win in these three white districts," Scalzetti contended. "The plaintiffs are alleging that this is because those two supermajority Black districts are so packed with Black voters it is diluting their voice."

Jefferson County's five-district system was established in 1985. However, the lawsuit alleges that the 2021 maps are racially gerrymandered and haven't changed much since then. Districts 1 and 2 are still supermajority Black while Districts 3, 4 and 5 remain majority white, limiting influence despite the population of Black residents growing.

Scalzetti noted the case raises significant concerns about transparency in the redistricting process. The lawsuit alleges the commission failed to conduct analyses required by the Voting Rights Act, such as a racially polarized voting study. It also points to limited public input, with key meetings held during work hours and proposed maps only viewable in person at the commission's office.

Scalzetti emphasized the case highlights the importance of local redistricting in shaping representation and ensuring residents have a voice in decisions affecting their daily lives.

"Ultimately, this is about power," Scalzetti asserted. "This is about the power of a community, the power of an individual voter and a group of people to actually affect what is happening in their community."

The trial started on Monday and is taking place in the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of Alabama. It is expected to draw comparison to the landmark Supreme Court case Allen v. Milligan. Scalzetti added the case could have far-reaching impacts on redistricting, not only in other counties across Alabama but throughout the South.