By Christopher Blackwell and Loretta Pierre for The Appeal.
Broadcast version by Danielle Smith for Mississippi News Connection reporting for The Appeal-Public News Service Collaboration

About a year ago, a close friend, Garrett Felber, told me about a project close to his heart—the campaign to Free the Mississippi Five (MS5). 

The MS5 are the last remaining women in Mississippi sentenced to life with the possibility of parole after ten years before the state virtually abolished parole in 1995. Although they are, ostensibly, parole-eligible, the state has routinely denied their release without reasonable justification. They each have been imprisoned for more than 30 years.

The five have each taken responsibility for the harm they caused and spent decades pursuing growth and repair. Felber sent me interviews he conducted with each person about their lives and the repeated, arbitrary denials by the Mississippi Parole Board. One of the group, Loretta Pierre, has been denied parole 14 times, more than any other woman in the state’s history. 

The more I learned, the more I wanted to help. So I am sharing the words of Loretta Pierre, who tells us her story and introduces us to the other four women with whom she has spent nearly four decades in prison. —Chris Blackwell 

My name is Loretta Pierre. In 1985, when I was 20 years old and five months pregnant, I shot a woman during an argument. I immediately called 911 for help. But tragically, she did not survive. 

When the police arrived, I was arrested for aggravated assault and eventually charged with murder. Once my court proceedings began, I had five mistrials before I was convicted at my sixth trial. In 1989, I was sentenced to life with the possibility of parole after ten years. 

I have now been in prison for 36 years and denied parole 14 times. I hold the record in the state of Mississippi for the number of times a woman has been denied. 

Before my conviction, I had never spent a single day in jail. The son I was pregnant with then is now 38 years old, and he has three daughters of his own. I have never met them. My Mama, my strongest supporter, died in September 2017, brokenhearted that I was never released in her lifetime. My sister, who was 10 years old when I was arrested, is now 49. And my brother, who was 24, is now 63. My siblings still support me, but with each parole denial, our hope of reuniting becomes more elusive. Nevertheless, we communicate daily and refuse to let this unreasonable punishment break us. 

I have completed more than 50 classes, courses, and programs in prison. Yet, when I last met with the parole board in January 2022, my file was completely empty and looked as if I had wasted decades doing nothing. There was no record of the job I held for more than 23 years; none of the letters of support that professors, friends, and family had sent in; or the document promising me a job when I came home. What was available for the board was my disciplinary record—the rule violations levied against me for filing grievances against the Mississippi Department of Corrections (MDOC) during my captivity. 

It has been a never-ending cycle that I’ve had to endure, day after day, year after year. I was not sentenced to life without parole or death by incarceration. Nor were the four other women from MS5 I want to introduce you to.

Evelyn Smith, 82, aka Mama E, has been incarcerated for 32 years for murder. She is an amazing cook, always makes extra for her friends, and has a remedy for anyone who is sick. Mama E’s last parole hearing in January 2022 lasted three minutes. They told her to come back in five years. I delivered the board’s decision to her in the privacy of her room. We shared our pain together, aware that she may not have another five years left to live but her faith in God is strong and she still holds hope she will one day be released.

Lisa Crevitt, 59, was just 20 years old when she succumbed to drug-induced psychotic delusions and dropped her child from a bridge. She has held the same job during her nearly 40 years in prison and has never received a single rule violation report. Lisa’s ex-husband and the deceased child’s father is now a judge in Warren County, Mississippi. Many believe that his political influence has kept Lisa imprisoned. Her first parole date was in 1995. The board has denied her nine times. 

Anita Krecic, 65, has been incarcerated since 1987, after her then-boyfriend shot and killed a Mississippi Highway Patrolman. Anita’s co-defendant, who shot the trooper, was executed in 2002. While incarcerated, she has consistently worked a job, earned over 100 college credits, and maintained an exemplary behavior record. She displays strong values, morals, and ethics in her daily life and is currently enrolled in seminary school. But in the lead-up to each of her parole hearings, signs opposing her release are typically posted throughout the county where she was convicted. In 2022, she was denied by the board and told to return in 2030. 

Linda Ross, 62, has been incarcerated since 1989 for killing a man who attacked her. She has maintained a job throughout her incarceration and is currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree. She is very generous and loves to cook for friends. Linda loves to share stories with those incarcerated with her. 

Each time we are denied parole, the board cites the “serious nature” of our crimes. None of us can change what we did—only who we have become since. I have completed every program MDOC has made available to me. That this doesn’t seem to matter makes me think that those with authority see no value in the department’s rehabilitation courses. These programs feel like a sham, nothing more than a way for crooked authorities to generate funding while putting on a show for the public. 

Change will not happen unless the public pressures those who oppress us without oversight. Without transparency and accountability, we five—and many like us across the country—will be forced to die behind these towering walls—not to provide safety for our communities, but for retribution and punishment. 

For this to change, we need your help! Our website includes our clemency petitions, ways to support us, and addresses to contact us—please share on social media so others can learn about our plight. Relationships and correspondence can be life-saving forms of support. For too long the parole board in Mississippi has been able to act as judge, jury, and executioner. We must build our collective strength to combat this repressive system. It is far past time for us to get a chance to return to our communities. 


Christopher Blackwell and Loretta Pierre wrote this article for The Appeal.


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This week, President Joe Biden commuted the sentences of 37 people with federal death row convictions to life sentences without parole.

Groups working on criminal justice reform said it is a start but they would like to see him do more. According to the advocacy group FWD.US, one in two Americans has experienced incarceration in their immediate family and one in three has a criminal record.

Zoë Towns, executive director of FWD.US, applauded Biden's actions and urged him to focus on clemency for those still serving long sentences.

"What we are calling on is for the President in these final weeks of his administration, focus clemency on sentence commutations for people who are in prison," Towns explained. "However, of all of those people -- the pardons and the commutations on home confinement -- nobody actually walked home from prison, right? Nobody's prison term was reduced in any way."

Towns noted most recent commutations for people on house arrest basically removes the threat of reincarceration. She added they are cautiously optimistic Biden will focus on the issue, as a White House news release mentioned the possibility of more pardons and commutations.

Towns pointed out many long-term prison sentences disproportionately affect Black people, citing racial disparities in the harsher past sentences for cocaine possession. The 2010 Fair Sentencing Act reduced the gap but Towns added many remain imprisoned under outdated laws, underscoring the need for clemency.

"We believe that the federal prison population is far too large," Towns contended. "One in eight people who are in prison in the United States are incarcerated in the federal system. There are thousands of people -- nearly 200,000 people -- who have been in that system, who are serving extremely long sentences, and they need attention."

In a bipartisan poll conducted this fall by FWD.US, Towns said more than 80% of respondents agreed clemency should be used more frequently to address lengthy sentences.


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Oregon's constitution guarantees criminal defendants a state-funded lawyer for those who cannot afford one but a massive shortage of public defenders makes it unachievable.

According to the Oregon Justice Research Center, more than 90% of people charged with crimes in Oregon depend on a public defender. However, Oregon has less than a third of the public defense attorneys needed to handle all the cases.

Currently, more than 3,400 Oregonians charged with crimes have no lawyer.

Shannon Wilson, executive director of Public Defenders of Marion County, said public defenders are so overwhelmed with cases they can get burned out after a few years.

"There's not enough attorneys to address that work unless you want to adopt the belief that 300 clients per one attorney is enough to get legal representation," Wilson pointed out.

The Oregon Public Defense Commission estimates the state needs 500 more public defenders to meet its obligations. In 2023, lawmakers approved $96 million for attorney retention, recruitment and pay equity with prosecutors. But the commission said it is not enough.

The Oregon Criminal Justice Commission said recriminalizing low-level drug possession, enacted this year, will lead to nearly 2,300 additional convictions annually, disproportionately affecting people of color. Wilson noted if you can't afford a lawyer, you will likely get put on a waiting list and the wait can be 5 months or more.

Without a lawyer, some people end up spending needless time in jail and are less likely to have a fair trial. Most of Wilson's public defense clients face poverty, medical, or substance-abuse challenges and Wilson added stigma remains a significant barrier to fully funding Oregon's public defense system.

"This is our community, and I feel like we all have a responsibility to take care of everyone," Wilson stressed. "Especially the most vulnerable people that can't advocate for themselves. "

Despite the barriers, Wilson is optimistic Oregon legislators are heading in the right direction. The Oregon Public Defense Commission recommends doubling the state's two-year public defense budget from nearly $600 million to $1.3 billion by 2030.


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West Virginia schools' reliance on zero-tolerance policies are driving more kids into the juvenile justice system - with lifelong consequences, experts say.

New data from the Brookings Institution show Black and Hispanic female students are disproportionately referred to the juvenile justice system for minor offenses.

Elizabeth Shahan, executive director of the nonprofit West Virginia Prevention Solutions, said behavior like vaping in a classroom can land a child in a magistrate's court.

She said research supports using a peer or youth court model that emphasizes positive action, and added it's a huge investment for communities to offer alternatives.

"But when done well, you are judged by a court of your peers, much like a regular courtroom," said Shahan. "That court's job is to come up with a way for you to restore faith in and/or to remedy the situation."

According to the Brookings report, juvenile complaints lead to more school absences and lower test scores.

Black students are more than twice as likely to receive a referral to law enforcement or be arrested at school than white students.

Shahan said research has shown young brains aren't developed enough to fully understand the consequences of their actions.

So, the current punitive model only ensures they have no path forward to recognize their behavior as wrong, or be provided examples of good behavior.

"We now have a situation where we have a serious black mark on that youth's record," said Shahan. "We've basically doomed them to failure."

Shahan added that overuse of the juvenile justice system for minor or nonviolent offenses comes with a hefty price tag for the state.

"A lot of economic research has gone into if we spend a dollar on preventative services, preventative intervention before kids engage in risky behaviors," said Shahan, "then we save $24 in treatment costs, court costs, consequences costs."

She noted that criminal punishment also doesn't address mental health issues that often led to problematic behavior.

According to data from the Annie E. Casey Foundation, the number of school-aged kids struggling with anxiety or depression nationwide rose by 1.5 million between 2016 and 2020.