For female 'lifers' in the US, prison will never be home

The women to whom criminologist Dr Kathryn Whitely speaks rarely refer to the prison cells they spend their days in as their home.

The Australian-born researcher has devoted much of her professional life to them: the "largely dismissed" women who have committed violent offences.

Many of these women will never leave the Pennsylvania prison system where they agree to be interviewed by Dr Whitely alongside her director, AJ Nutter.

In that way, they're not so different from death-row inmate Christa Pike, despite a 1,300 kilometre distance between them.

Pike, Tennessee's only female death-row inmate, had been waiting to die for more than 30 years when she was first taken to the execution chamber last month.

Today, she is still waiting, and recovering from the disastrous attempt which saw a lethal drug injected twice into her system without killing her.

It remains to be seen if Tennessee will try for a second execution.

Women behind bars call prison their "waiting place", where they will spend their time before "eternally leaving this Earth".

One former death-row inmate, Beth, tells Dr Whitely surviving prison is about keeping the mind occupied.

Beth, now in her late 50s, spent five years on death row before her sentence was commuted to life without parole.

"I would do a lot of writing, I learned to crochet when I was in county [jail] so I did a lot of crochet and a lot of reading," she says, from inside SCI Muncy, Pennsylvania's maximum-security prison.

"And I remember there were days when I woke up and I'd just look at the four walls and be like, 'I can't believe this is my life right now.'

"Regular … general population [inmates], when they got in trouble would be housed up [on death row].

"Sometimes you had just days listening to people scream.

"I tried not to dwell too much on where I was sitting … I didn't ever look to the future.

"You have to take the steps you take to be able to get up every day."

A prison system struggling to handle abuse, trauma 

The prison system, Dr Whitely tells the ABC, is largely ill-equipped to deal with women like Beth and the others she speaks to.

"Approximately two thirds of the women I have worked with have experienced to various degrees … emotional, physical [and] sexual abuse," she says.

"However, each woman's account of their abuse is unique to them … one cannot [and] should not essentialise each woman's abuse experience as the same."

❝

My stepfather was the only father that I knew … there was a lot of verbal abuse. 

I don’t want to act like that was all bad because there were good times through there, but I distinctly remember the bad times more than anything else because I think it shaped the choices I ended up making as I was growing up. 

— Beth, SCI Muncy, sentenced to death, commuted to LWOP

❝

When I was a little girl, no-one heard me cry, no-one believed me when I told them I was being sexually abused … they were supposed to love me. 

— Tammy, SCI Muncy, LWOP

❝

I had a good childhood, good family life for the most part … I went to school, to college. I have a master's [degree] in nursing. 

— Dorothy, SCI Muncy, LWOP

Many of those female inmates argue, she adds, they would not be spending life behind bars if they had access to better legal representation.

"Often what they communicate to me about their legal experience [is that] there was a lack of communication," Dr Whitely says.

"[There was no] time spent with them, interest regarding them sharing their thoughts, or what messaging they thought would help their criminal case.

"Be it in the courtroom or in the media."

Christa Pike's legal team has been making the same argument for years.

'Broken, not evil': Pike's plea for mercy 

Pike, 50, was already making headlines when she was set to become the first woman executed in Tennessee in more than 200 years.

Less than 24 hours later, when that execution when horribly wrong, her name was still global news.

She has since been discharged from hospital and returned to the women's prison she has called home for more than three decades.

Earlier this year, her legal team's plea for clemency had heavily featured Pike's history of abuse, a history not discussed during her 1996 trial.

Pike was just 18 years old when she and her then-boyfriend murdered their 19-year-old classmate, Colleen Slemmer.

By that time, her lawyer said, she had been repeatedly raped, with the first instance occurring when she was just a toddler.

She had also suffered brain damage due to in-utero alcohol exposure, and had been using drugs since she was a pre-teen.

Her lawyer, Randall Spivey, called her "broken", adding the system had "ignored, misdiagnosed and mistreated her at every turn".

"Tennesseans long ago stopped executing people like Christa," he said.

"Stepping into the chaos of Christa's life that led her to that moment will not justify her actions that night.

"But the chaos will show you Christa was broken, not evil."

An evaluation by a trauma expert in 2023 revealed Pike had suffered nine out of 10 "adverse childhood experiences" (ACEs).

Adverse childhood experiences, Dr Whitely explains, show a link between childhood trauma and later adult problems, from chronic illness to violent behaviours.

"The higher the ACE factor, the greater the risk for relevant behaviours to include mental illness, substance use disorders and adult violence.

"Among women committing crimes of violence, their ACE scores fall into the highest percentile of approximately 80 per cent.

"Childhood abuse is a common thread across the lives of women who commit murder."

Navigating 'life behind the wall' 

Between 1980 and 2023, the number of women behind bars in the United States increased by more than 600 per cent, according to research organisation The Sentencing Project.

In state prisons, around 35,900 of them nationwide are incarcerated for violent offences.

For those who will never be released, how they handle it depends on their age, their background, their institution, their families and their crime.

"Each woman represents her own, unique, personal life journey … as to how and why she will personally navigate never being released," Dr Whitely says.

"Many of these women … will navigate to the best of their ability a 'life behind the wall'."

And no matter how they navigate it, she adds, most are left feeling "other" from the rest of the world.

"Not only by strangers from around the world, but for many, unexpectedly, those they loved," Dr Whitely says.

Women, she adds, are often viewed more harshly than men for violent crimes.

"If such violent behaviour is executed towards another human being, especially if towards a child, the woman is persistently reminded she is abhorrent, monstrous," she says.

"The response from society continues to overwhelmingly be, 'how could she, who really is she, she is not like us'."

When they speak to Dr Whitely about their lives, Pennsylvania's "lifers" express a desire to be seen as human.

❝

I want in some way to try to be understood. I am not a monster, I’m not at all … and if anybody thinks anything was gotten away with, they’re wrong. 

— Meghan, deceased

❝

If one day I [am released], I believe I will be a very positive, productive citizen. I would love to be a motivational speaker, sharing my experiences, because I don’t want anybody else to go through this. Sometimes we make a mistake. It takes one second to affect the rest of your life.

Until then, I will continue to hold my head up high. 

— Yvonne, SCI Muncy, LWOP

❝

I’m not a bad person. I was young and I made mistakes and I regret those mistakes. I would just like to say that people should get to know [others] for them … you might be surprised at what you find out about them, because you can’t always judge a book by its cover. 

— Michelle, SCI Muncy, sentenced to death, commuted to LWOP

One woman, now 55-year-old Heather, has spent the last 18 years of her life at SCI Muncy

Two years prior to her interview, she was named the Pennsylvania Prison Society's Incarcerated Person of the Year for her work advocating for women behind bars.

"People are very aware of the male prison, the male lifer, they know their stories," she says.

"A lot of the men have women helping them, supporting them in their fight for freedom and justice.

"The female experience is very different … in the way we become incarcerated, in our pathways towards violence, in the way that we heal, the way that we advocate.

"I want the idea of who we are [as people] to resonate … there should be opportunities for mercy in our system."

Tennessee Governor Bill Lee has told media Christa Pike's sentence will remain "the same as before" unless a court rules otherwise.

The state has paused all executions for the rest of the year to allow for an independent investigation.

Pike's attorneys reported she suffered pneumonia, a blood clot, cognitive problems and difficulty walking, talking, swallowing, and moving following the botched execution attempt.

Asked about the reaction from the American public, Dr Whitely, who studied at the Queensland University of Technology before moving to Pennsylvania, says there is "strong division".

"Much attention appears to be consumed by discussion on human cruelty, surrounding the flawed [execution] attempt," Dr Whitely says.

"However, one would argue 'human cruelty' is woven into the … re-victimisation.

"The victim's family are again, years later, reminded of the brutality their daughter suffered.

"Also they are unintentionally being drawn into an international conversation … having to witness an outcry of sympathy, empathy towards the woman who [took] their daughter's life.

"Tragically, past family secrets, denial [and] concealment of extreme child abuse have led to our discussion today regarding Christa."