Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world. But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you, So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also. And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all. Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.
-from The Prophet: On Crime and Punishment by Kahlil Gibran
READ THIS LAST. I didn't realize how much I could type here so I will be much more detailed here. I will not tell you my life story here or anything. many stupid and great and terrible things have happened, let's just leave it at that. I will tell you what I read and have been doing so that you at least know me like I know you from these blogs. I've known about the existence of this blog since 9th grade but I never examined any of it until now, believing myself immature to form a reasonable opinion at that time. I've never deeply visited my family's history because I never wanted to cause anyone pain, and I still don't. I believe the beautifully absurd and wonderful trajectory of my life and how it is playing out amidst all the stupidity of what's going on the world has motivated me to write this. I have a paper due at midnight I could be working on but I will deal with that in a couple hours--we're looking at examples of works we read in my major American authors class and just forming opinions about them, there's three prompts, haven't decided on one, probably going to write about Poe's The Fall Of The House Of Usher (prepare for a long yapathon about the books I enjoy.)--so then, what exactly do I do: I spend every week and have been for the past 8 months living on a college campus where my opinion matters and I can publish my work with Winthrop's help, where I'm fed unreasonably well to the point where I've gained a few pounds, have been dropping weight since now because I've just genuinely not felt like eating too much anymore. Anyway, I'm fed, I sleep wonderfully, I have really good friends, and I can walk to my library--can I just say having a college library across from your dorm hall is the greatest thing ever?--and simply chill in there, read, write, etc. I haven't been writing and reading much except for essays and college reading of course, so I'm trying to get back on making that a habit. My schedule is very good, I only have four days of classes and a three day weekend, plus my classes have a lot of free time in between, I only have 2-3 classes a day. I've been told I would make a wonderful English teacher, but I've been mainly focusing on my English degree (they don't offer creative writing majors here, they think of it more as a specialization, I'm very likely going to change my minor back to that because I oddly didn't think of it when asked what I wanted to minor in.) My high school's entire English department rode on me to do college and major in English, become a writer, etc. which has been my goal for so long now. I've read everything from Dostoevsky to Tolstoy to Kafka to Tolkien to Dickens to McCarthy to--my two favorites, whose bibliographies my eyeballs have consumed half of--Faulkner and Camus. In short, life is going quite wonderfully, and I'm losing room to type, but this is a fine enough letter as is. I hope you enjoyed knowing me and I hope you have a good rest of your life
hello father. It's CJ. I wanted to wait until my birthday to reply but I don't feel like waiting. I wanted to thank you for my mere existence. I'm in a great university (a little place called Winthrop University, a liberal arts school in the small town of Rock Hill, 20 minutes away from Charlotte, NC) and I'm majoring in English and minoring in History. We seem to have somewhat of the same taste in books, because I love Dostoevsky's novels and Dune, just like you seem to have. The government has given an unreasonably and stupidly large amount of money for my writing and reading talents, so life is going quite well for me. (hello mother. if you're reading this, I'm sorry, I could NOT resist an opportunity such as this.) My family is doing well and I'm really thankful for all the support and help they have given me since I arrived on this planet. but yes. I thank you and my mother for breathing life into me.
Again, I'm so sorry for the long delay in replying. I'm truly glad the transcription and link to your book were helpful, and your appreciation for the encouragement goes both ways—your writing and your voice are powerful, and it's an honor to support that in any small way. I haven't had a chance to dive into your book yet, but it's on my list, and I'll definitely share my thoughts once I do.
I checked out your YouTube channel (DustyVisionTV) and subscribed—I'm looking forward to catching an episode of Doing LIFE in prison with Perrie, This Ain't It! I'll post it on Facebook and X/Twitter! It sounds like a powerful platform for sharing real experiences behind the walls, and I'm excited to hear more from you there.
Thank you again for your openness and for continuing to create and connect despite everything. You're doing meaningful work, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
Take good care of yourself, Perrie, and I hope to be in touch again soon.
I'm so sorry for taking way too long to reply. Thank you for your patience and for the kind words.
Your writing really does uplift—it's clear you put heart into every line with the hope of lifting someone else up, even from where you are. That intention comes through powerfully and inspires. I'm grateful you share it.
Your voice matters, and the fact that you're using it to encourage others despite everything speaks volumes about your strength.
Take good care of yourself as best you can, and please know there's someone thinking of you and holding space for better days ahead.
I'm so sorry for the long delay in getting back to you. Your letter has been on my mind, and I'm truly grateful you took the time to write such a warm, heartfelt note. It means a lot to know my words reached you and that the appreciation felt genuine on both sides. Your poetry is powerful, and it deserves more than a quick "like"—it's the kind of writing that sticks with people and makes them think.
I'm keeping you in my prayers every day, especially that prayer you asked for: may you be blessed to be exonerated from this wrongful conviction, and may justice finally come through for you. Please know I'm holding that hope close.
A couple of quick questions, if you're comfortable answering when you can:
Are you still in administrative segregation right now? I'm praying with everything in me that you're not—that you've been moved to a less isolating place.
Also, are there any updates on your case? Has anyone new (lawyer, organization, advocate) stepped in to help fight the wrongful conviction, or is there any movement at all?
You're not alone in this fight—I'm still here, still reading, still sharing your blog with friends and others who care about prison reform and innocence work. Your voice matters, and so does your freedom.
Take good care of yourself as best you can, and please write back whenever you're able. I'm rooting for you every step.
With sincere respect, solidarity, and ongoing prayers,
First off, I'm so sorry for the long delay in replying—life got away from me, and I hate that it's taken this long to get back to you. Your letter has been sitting in my inbox, reminding me to respond, and I'm truly grateful you wrote it.
Thank you again for your sweet words about my comments; it means a lot to know they reached you. I'm Lisa, and I spend a lot of my time advocating for the rights of incarcerated people, pushing for real prison reform, supporting people who’ve been wrongfully convicted, and working toward the complete abolition of solitary confinement. I believe it's inhumane and counterproductive, and the United Nations has it right: any stay in solitary confinement beyond 10 days meets the definition of torture. What you described—five months in solitary with no incident report, no hearing, purely as retaliation—is exactly the kind of abuse that drives me to keep speaking up. It's unfair, it's wrong, and it should never happen to anyone.
As for how I came across your blog, honestly, I don't recall the exact path anymore—maybe a shared post on a reform page or a recommendation from someone else on Between the Bars—but the moment I read your original letter, it stopped me. It was so well written, clear, and powerful that it captured my full attention right away. Your voice cuts through in a rare and important way.
I see that you haven't written since 2024. I hope that you've been released. If not, I hope my letter finds you.
Please know that your words matter out here—they help people understand the reality behind the walls and remind us why change can't wait. If there's anything specific you'd like to share or any way I can amplify what you're saying, just let me know.
Wishing you strength and brighter days ahead (and hoping 2026 is treating you kinder than 2023 did). Take good care of yourself.
I'm doing well, thank you—and I'm so sorry for taking this long to reply. Your note really brightened my day when I finally saw it, and I'm grateful you took the time to reach out again.
A little about me: I'm in Indiana, and I spend a lot of my time advocating for the rights of incarcerated people, pushing for meaningful prison reform, and supporting the wrongfully convicted. I'm also an abolitionist when it comes to solitary confinement—I believe it's cruel, counterproductive, and should be ended entirely.
That's what originally drew me to Between the Bars: hearing directly from people inside, in their own words, about what the system is really like. It cuts through all the noise and statistics and reminds me (and hopefully others) why change is so urgent.
I'd love to hear more from you whenever you're able. One subject I'd genuinely enjoy reading about is how people inside maintain small acts of humanity and connection—things like the little rituals, kindnesses, friendships, or even quiet moments of dignity that help you hold onto who you are despite everything the system tries to strip away—those stories feel powerful and hopeful to me. They show that even in the hardest places, people still find ways to be human, and I sincerely hope this applies to you. If that resonates or if you have your own angle on it, I'd be honored to read whatever you feel like sharing.
Thank you again for your patience and your openness. Take good care of yourself, and I hope to hear from you when you have the chance.
Dymitri! I am only now just seeing your response, so I hope this reaches you...
And yes, haha —the irony is real: here we are, years later, passing notes like it's the world's slowest game of telephone! But seriously, I did see this, and your words hit me right back. Knowing that something I wrote reached you and brought even a tiny bit of that "warm puppy" happiness means the world to me, too. You're not just shouting into the void—people are listening, caring, and rooting for you out here.
Keep sharing whatever's on your mind, whenever you can. Your perspective cuts through the noise in ways most folks never get to hear. It matters, and so do you.
Stay strong, take care of yourself as best you can, and know there's at least one person thinking of you and hoping the days get a little lighter.
RSS
But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,
So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.
Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.
-from The Prophet: On Crime and Punishment
by Kahlil Gibran
I will not tell you my life story here or anything. many stupid and great and terrible things have happened, let's just leave it at that. I will tell you what I read and have been doing so that you at least know me like I know you from these blogs. I've known about the existence of this blog since 9th grade but I never examined any of it until now, believing myself immature to form a reasonable opinion at that time. I've never deeply visited my family's history because I never wanted to cause anyone pain, and I still don't. I believe the beautifully absurd and wonderful trajectory of my life and how it is playing out amidst all the stupidity of what's going on the world has motivated me to write this. I have a paper due at midnight I could be working on but I will deal with that in a couple hours--we're looking at examples of works we read in my major American authors class and just forming opinions about them, there's three prompts, haven't decided on one, probably going to write about Poe's The Fall Of The House Of Usher (prepare for a long yapathon about the books I enjoy.)--so then, what exactly do I do: I spend every week and have been for the past 8 months living on a college campus where my opinion matters and I can publish my work with Winthrop's help, where I'm fed unreasonably well to the point where I've gained a few pounds, have been dropping weight since now because I've just genuinely not felt like eating too much anymore. Anyway, I'm fed, I sleep wonderfully, I have really good friends, and I can walk to my library--can I just say having a college library across from your dorm hall is the greatest thing ever?--and simply chill in there, read, write, etc. I haven't been writing and reading much except for essays and college reading of course, so I'm trying to get back on making that a habit. My schedule is very good, I only have four days of classes and a three day weekend, plus my classes have a lot of free time in between, I only have 2-3 classes a day. I've been told I would make a wonderful English teacher, but I've been mainly focusing on my English degree (they don't offer creative writing majors here, they think of it more as a specialization, I'm very likely going to change my minor back to that because I oddly didn't think of it when asked what I wanted to minor in.) My high school's entire English department rode on me to do college and major in English, become a writer, etc. which has been my goal for so long now. I've read everything from Dostoevsky to Tolstoy to Kafka to Tolkien to Dickens to McCarthy to--my two favorites, whose bibliographies my eyeballs have consumed half of--Faulkner and Camus. In short, life is going quite wonderfully, and I'm losing room to type, but this is a fine enough letter as is. I hope you enjoyed knowing me and I hope you have a good rest of your life
I forgive you.
~ your son
your son
~ Collin Johnny Mahaffey
Again, I'm so sorry for the long delay in replying.
I'm truly glad the transcription and link to your book were helpful, and your appreciation for the encouragement goes both ways—your writing and your voice are powerful, and it's an honor to support that in any small way. I haven't had a chance to dive into your book yet, but it's on my list, and I'll definitely share my thoughts once I do.
I checked out your YouTube channel (DustyVisionTV) and subscribed—I'm looking forward to catching an episode of Doing LIFE in prison with Perrie, This Ain't It! I'll post it on Facebook and X/Twitter! It sounds like a powerful platform for sharing real experiences behind the walls, and I'm excited to hear more from you there.
Thank you again for your openness and for continuing to create and connect despite everything. You're doing meaningful work, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
Take good care of yourself, Perrie, and I hope to be in touch again soon.
With respect, gratitude, and solidarity,
Lisa ("EndSolitary")
I'm so sorry for taking way too long to reply. Thank you for your patience and for the kind words.
Your writing really does uplift—it's clear you put heart into every line with the hope of lifting someone else up, even from where you are. That intention comes through powerfully and inspires. I'm grateful you share it.
Your voice matters, and the fact that you're using it to encourage others despite everything speaks volumes about your strength.
Take good care of yourself as best you can, and please know there's someone thinking of you and holding space for better days ahead.
With respect and appreciation,
Lisa ("EndSolitary")
I'm so sorry for the long delay in getting back to you. Your letter has been on my mind, and I'm truly grateful you took the time to write such a warm, heartfelt note. It means a lot to know my words reached you and that the appreciation felt genuine on both sides. Your poetry is powerful, and it deserves more than a quick "like"—it's the kind of writing that sticks with people and makes them think.
I'm keeping you in my prayers every day, especially that prayer you asked for: may you be blessed to be exonerated from this wrongful conviction, and may justice finally come through for you. Please know I'm holding that hope close.
A couple of quick questions, if you're comfortable answering when you can:
Are you still in administrative segregation right now? I'm praying with everything in me that you're not—that you've been moved to a less isolating place.
Also, are there any updates on your case? Has anyone new (lawyer, organization, advocate) stepped in to help fight the wrongful conviction, or is there any movement at all?
You're not alone in this fight—I'm still here, still reading, still sharing your blog with friends and others who care about prison reform and innocence work. Your voice matters, and so does your freedom.
Take good care of yourself as best you can, and please write back whenever you're able. I'm rooting for you every step.
With sincere respect, solidarity, and ongoing prayers,
Lisa ("EndSolitary")
First off, I'm so sorry for the long delay in replying—life got away from me, and I hate that it's taken this long to get back to you. Your letter has been sitting in my inbox, reminding me to respond, and I'm truly grateful you wrote it.
Thank you again for your sweet words about my comments; it means a lot to know they reached you. I'm Lisa, and I spend a lot of my time advocating for the rights of incarcerated people, pushing for real prison reform, supporting people who’ve been wrongfully convicted, and working toward the complete abolition of solitary confinement. I believe it's inhumane and counterproductive, and the United Nations has it right: any stay in solitary confinement beyond 10 days meets the definition of torture. What you described—five months in solitary with no incident report, no hearing, purely as retaliation—is exactly the kind of abuse that drives me to keep speaking up. It's unfair, it's wrong, and it should never happen to anyone.
As for how I came across your blog, honestly, I don't recall the exact path anymore—maybe a shared post on a reform page or a recommendation from someone else on Between the Bars—but the moment I read your original letter, it stopped me. It was so well written, clear, and powerful that it captured my full attention right away. Your voice cuts through in a rare and important way.
I see that you haven't written since 2024. I hope that you've been released. If not, I hope my letter finds you.
Please know that your words matter out here—they help people understand the reality behind the walls and remind us why change can't wait. If there's anything specific you'd like to share or any way I can amplify what you're saying, just let me know.
Wishing you strength and brighter days ahead (and hoping 2026 is treating you kinder than 2023 did). Take good care of yourself.
With respect and solidarity,
Lisa ("EndSolitary")
I'm doing well, thank you—and I'm so sorry for taking this long to reply. Your note really brightened my day when I finally saw it, and I'm grateful you took the time to reach out again.
A little about me: I'm in Indiana, and I spend a lot of my time advocating for the rights of incarcerated people, pushing for meaningful prison reform, and supporting the wrongfully convicted. I'm also an abolitionist when it comes to solitary confinement—I believe it's cruel, counterproductive, and should be ended entirely.
That's what originally drew me to Between the Bars: hearing directly from people inside, in their own words, about what the system is really like. It cuts through all the noise and statistics and reminds me (and hopefully others) why change is so urgent.
I'd love to hear more from you whenever you're able. One subject I'd genuinely enjoy reading about is how people inside maintain small acts of humanity and connection—things like the little rituals, kindnesses, friendships, or even quiet moments of dignity that help you hold onto who you are despite everything the system tries to strip away—those stories feel powerful and hopeful to me. They show that even in the hardest places, people still find ways to be human, and I sincerely hope this applies to you. If that resonates or if you have your own angle on it, I'd be honored to read whatever you feel like sharing.
Thank you again for your patience and your openness. Take good care of yourself, and I hope to hear from you when you have the chance.
With respect and solidarity,
Lisa
And yes, haha —the irony is real: here we are, years later, passing notes like it's the world's slowest game of telephone! But seriously, I did see this, and your words hit me right back. Knowing that something I wrote reached you and brought even a tiny bit of that "warm puppy" happiness means the world to me, too. You're not just shouting into the void—people are listening, caring, and rooting for you out here.
Keep sharing whatever's on your mind, whenever you can. Your perspective cuts through the noise in ways most folks never get to hear. It matters, and so do you.
Stay strong, take care of yourself as best you can, and know there's at least one person thinking of you and hoping the days get a little lighter.
With respect and solidarity,
Lisa ("EndSolitary") <3