Revolving door of despair: Drugs land more women behind bars
JACKSBORO, Tenn. — On opposite sides of the county jail, a mother and her son chat about school, girls, birthday gifts — and their future together. They aren’t allowed to see each other face-to-face, so the inmate and the fifth-grader connect by video.
“Hi, Mommy,” 10-yearold Robby says to Krystle Sweat, clutching a phone in the visiting room as he looks at his mother on a screen, sitting in her cell.
Robby hasn’t hugged her since Christmas 2015, just before Sweat wound up back behind bars. He tells her that on the day she’s released, he wants to show her how he can ride no-hands on his bike.
For years now, Sweat has cycled in and out of jail, arrested more than two dozen times for robbery and other crimes — almost all related to her drug addiction that culminated in a $300-aday pain pill habit. She’s tried to quit, but nothing has worked. Now she says she’s ready to make the break when she’s paroled, possibly this summer.
“I’m almost 33,” she says. “I don’t want to continue living like this. I want to be someone my family can count on.”
Tucked in a remote corner of Appalachia, the Campbell County Jail offers an agonizing glimpse into how the tidal wave of opioids and methamphetamines has ravaged America. Here and across the country, addiction is driving skyrocketing rates of incarcerated women, tearing apart families while squeezing communities that lack money, treatment programs and permanent solutions to close the revolving door.
Women in jail are the fastest-growing correctional population in America. The numbers rose from 13,258 in 1980 to 102,300 in 2016, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. Between 1980 and 2009, the arrest rate for drug possession or use tripled for women, while it doubled for men. Opioid abuse has exacerbated the problem.
More than a decade ago, there were rarely more than 10 women in the Campbell County Jail. Now the population is routinely around 60. Most are arrested on a drug-related charge. Many also are addicted. They receive no counseling, and eventually are released into the same community where friends and sometimes family are using drugs. Soon they are, too.
And the cycle begins anew: Another arrest, another booking photo, another pink uniform and off to a cell to simmer in regret and despair.
Sarai Keelean is back in for violating probation for possessing meth; she’d been using the drug and also selling it to buy opioids. Locked up for almost three years, she longs for freedom but is terrified, too. “You’re afraid that you’re going to mess up,” she says.