From Prison Bars to Platinum Stars

my size cornered me in the yard and tried to take my shoes. I gave them to her. I learned quickly: keep your head down, don't mak

but I wasn't just fighting for mys

a music blogger, a podcaster now, with a respected voice on the Nashville scene. Years ago, before the Clarks, before Ethan, h

ox address. I star

I told him I was a songwriter, too. I didn't

trayal, the fire, and the ice-cold injustice into stanzas and choruses. I wrote about a man with two so

he lyric

later, a let

is the realest stuff I've read in a decade. This is mo

ad seen me, the real me, not the criminal they had all created. It gave me

e visits

plexiglass during visiting hours, a smug look on

was always h

igger, her hair a soft brown f

a's cheek. Sabrina would bounce Melody on her knee, cooing at her. They

ly. I pressed my hand to the glass and looked only at my daughte

ocused all my energy, all my love, on that l

," he'd say through the crackly speaker. "She thinks Sabrina is her mother

ody. My silence was its own kind of weapon.

dark with anger. "Fine," he snarled. "You'll never see her again

o weeks. He didn't know that the warden had already approved my request for ea