The road ahead for Michelle Griffin and her daughter was already long and daunting. A little more than two years ago, Griffin’s daughter began a 32-year prison sentence, and Griffin took on two new roles: the mother of an incarcerated woman and the primary caregiver for a 6-year-old grandchild.
Then the pandemic came.
Griffin already had reason to worry. Her 26-year-old daughter struggles with a variety of mental health issues. She also has asthma, a heightened concern given the deadly respiratory virus that threw the world into crisis earlier this year.
After an initial stint at CoreCivic’s Metro Detention Facility, Griffin’s daughter — whom she asked the Scene not to name, fearing she’d face repercussions — moved to the Debra K. Johnson Rehabilitation Center (formerly the Tennessee Prison for Women) in Nashville on Aug. 13. She was quarantined for 14 days, Griffin says, and has largely been in some form of lockdown ever since as cases at the prison spiked. Then, on the night of Sept. 22, Griffin’s daughter called her with the news: She’d tested positive for COVID-19.
“Being locked down like that, not able to get a shower every day, coming out 10 minutes to get on the phone,” Griffin says. “That’s already tearing her mental state down. Now, to find this out. She told me last night she really doesn’t have any symptoms. But she’s discombobulated because of the lockdown.”
As of Sept. 22, Griffin’s daughter is one of 64 incarcerated women at the prison who have tested positive for COVID-19. The Debra K. Johnson Rehabilitation Center currently has the largest outbreak of any Tennessee prison. Statewide, 19 incarcerated people have died after testing positive for the illness, including Dadra Porter at the women’s prison in Nashville.
Tennessee Department of Correction spokesperson Dorinda Carter told the Scene last month that all incarcerated people are checked twice a week for symptoms. She added: “One of the challenges we face is with inmates not being forthcoming about possible symptoms due to concerns about being placed in isolation or quarantine. We have worked to ensure that they understand that neither of these measures is punitive and access to necessary services and utilities are the same as they would be in general population.”
Griffin says her daughter has expressed precisely that concern to her, though, describing how prison staff interacts differently — if at all — with incarcerated women who have tested positive. She says she’s been in frequent contact with officials at the prison, trying to understand the protocols that are in place and make sure her daughter has what she needs. She’s been getting help from the prison advocacy organization Free Hearts, which is run by formerly incarcerated women. But she says her daughter feels hopeless and even more isolated on the inside after testing positive.
“I was telling her that I had talked to the assistant warden and that she was gonna come talk to her,” Griffin says, recalling a recent conversation with her daughter. “She said, ‘Well Mama, she’s not gonna come talk to me now.’ ”
For Griffin — a mother determined to stay involved in her daughter’s life and get to the bottom of any predicament that lands in front of her — the pandemic has only added to a list of worries that was too long to begin with.
“I have a lot of questions because I don’t want to lose my daughter to COVID. Or depression. Or whatever else is going on in that jail. Because I really don’t know.”
