Last week, we told you about the staggering costs many families incur in order to stay in touch with loved ones who are in prison.
Money spent on phone calls and in-person visits quickly adds up.
But there is some relief for families who are struggling.
In part two of our series, The Hidden Price of Prison, we introduce you to people dedicated to making sure prisoners and their families get the support they need.
Families Go To Great Lengths To Visit Incarcerated Loved Ones
Once a month, on a Saturday morning, Annette Barner and her two kids get up early and leave their home in Indianapolis to get on the bus.
"I've been riding the bus going on five years in May," Barner says.
But the bus isn't going to the mall. It's not taking them to the movies. It's heading nearly two hours southwest of Indianapolis, to Wabash Valley Correctional Facility.
It's a trip that takes the entire day, but it's one Barner insists on making.
"It means a whole lot to him," she says. "If we don't come to see him, it messes up his whole month."
Barner and her kids are at the prison to see her fiancé, Floyd Teague.
He'll likely be in prison for several more years, after being convicted of multiple felony counts – including drug dealing.
But when he's reunited with his family during monthly visits, Teague seems like a regular dad.
This is my only way. Even though I have a car, nobody wants to put wear and tear on their car every month.
"He is the first one to show me he really cares," she says. "All the support that he needs he gives to us. That's why I'm so strong in love with him."
With the help of the bus, Barner never misses a visit. Without transportation, it's a trip she otherwise couldn't afford.
"This is my only way," she says. "Even though I have a car, nobody wants to put wear and tear on their car every month."
Indianapolis Prison Ministry Helps Families Make The Trip
Seeing smiles on the faces of families as they're reunited is what gives Cecelia Whitfield a sense of purpose.
Whitfield is the woman behind the Use What You've Got Prison Ministry, which has been helping families connect with their incarcerated loved ones for more than 25 years.
It's a struggle she knows well.
"In 1988, I was just so excited. My son had just graduated from high school in June and by August of '88 he was facing 40 years of prison time," Whitfield says.
Whitfield started the ministry after other women started asking her for rides when she went to visit her son in prison.
"It's expensive for families," she says. "And especially mothers with small children. And the dad's in prison and you have daycare and everything is on that mother. They've got everything – the food, the rent. So it's expensive to live out here when you have a loved one that's incarcerated."
The families are called the hidden victims ... No one thinks about the families, what we go through -- the tears and the hurt and the pain and the shame.
The rides became so popular, she and her husband had to borrow money to buy a school bus.
Now, the ministry uses several 15-passenger vans to transport families to prisons all over the state every weekend.
People pay what they can for a ride – Whitfield never turns anyone away, even if they have nothing to give.
For many, being on the bus with other families facing the same obstacles is a lot like therapy.
"The families are called the hidden victims," Whitfield says. "Because, we know the problem, the trouble that our sons, our husbands committed and they victimized someone, but no one thinks about the families, what we go through, the tears and the hurt and the pain and the shame. And the embarrassment of having a child in prison, on drugs, dealing - that's very hard."
Research Shows Maintaining Connections Plays Role In Successful Release
Being in that position is hard, but studies have consistently found that maintaining contact with family members while incarcerated reduces an offender's chance of recidivism once released.
A 2011 study by the Minnesota Department of Corrections Found the likelihood of being reconvicted of a felony was 13 percent lower for inmates who received visits.
Lydon Clanton knows just how important family connections are to prisoners because he used to be one.
He now works at Public Advocates in Community Re-entry, or PACE, an organization dedicated to helping offenders transition back into life after prison.
For him, getting out of prison wouldn't have been possible without his family's support.
"You don't want to let them down, as well as yourself," Clanton says. "Just that bond, that working relationship in achieving your goals, that's the foundation to success."
Clanton works alongside another ex-con and former PACE client, William Groves.
Groves says he never expected to get out of prison and have a good paying job, let alone a place of his own.
They're all things he says he couldn't accomplish without the support of his loved ones.
"I really thought when I was locked up my life was pretty much over, that I had failed, that I was going to have to start from the beginning, work a measly job, try to have a normal life," Groves says. "It has not been anything that I expected. Through the support, I have seen so many amazing things happen in my life."
That gives Annette Barner hope that when Teague is released in a few years they'll see amazing things happen in their lives, too.
Until then, she'll keep sacrificing her Saturdays so her kids can see their dad.
It's extra motivation for Teague to stay out of trouble so he can come home.
"It's giving him the help he needs right now to do what he needs to do to come home," she says. "That's why we come down here and see him because I notice when they're incarcerated if you've got someone … they're less in trouble down there. They focus on what they need to come home because they want to be in the outside world."
Barner is optimistic that Teague will be out of prison within the next five years.
