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innocence under fire
innocence under fire
A New Beginning - August 26, 2022
Sisters, Stephanie and Lacie reunite on July 17, 2019 at Denver Women's Correctional Facility.
***I am writing this detailed account of how Lacie and I were reunited after so many years to give a little bit of a foundation of how it all came about. In the next few weeks, I will be sending an update that will be a testimony of how God uses all things for His good. ALL!!!
On October 15, 2018, I received a phone call that would FOREVER change my life, my understanding, and ultimately, my purpose. It was an answer to prayer that I didn’t even know I needed. I had just finished praying a prayer, telling God that I would figure out how to go see my sister, Lacie, when I returned to work as a flight attendant.
Within moments of submitting my plans into His hands, I would receive a phone call from a 303 area code. I identified it as being from Colorado and after listening to the message that had been left, I was awestruck. It was probably the quickest answer to a prayer I had ever received. It was a call from one of Lacie’s best friends, Nora. A friend from her childhood. A friend had stepped in to advocate and seek justice for the horrible injustice that had been dealt Lacie. This friend was calling to tell me, “You have evidence to support her innocence.” Indeed, it was not a call I had ever expected.
It brought up the memories of the hope we both had in the summer of 2002. Lacie and her three-year-old son had come to live with me. It was my offer to help her escape some of the ongoing challenges presented by her upbringing. Neither one of us was prepared or equipped to withstand the challenges of living together for the first time. Sadly, one month later, Lacie returned to Denver. Soon after this, I was not doing well emotionally or physically and was willing to take the doctor-recommended medical leave of absence from work. The doctor suspected burnout. Nothing a three-week break from work couldn’t cure. In reality, the leave brought more doom and gloom upon me when I lost my well-paying job.
In the following year, Lacie would periodically write and call but I had nothing left in me to give. She was getting married, expecting her second son, and had invited me to the wedding. For me, things had changed. I had been sinking fast into a deep dark hole of depression and was unable to recover without being hospitalized and eventually medicated. I felt alone, and isolated, and did not know what to do. That was in 2003. It seems like a lifetime ago for both Lacie and me.
Within a few years, she would be living her dream life, being a mother to her two sons, a wife to her husband, and caring for them all in their home in the mountains. Also, Lacie and her husband were both actively involved and serving in a church. They had done it, they had turned their life around and gotten on their feet.
As well, I was returning to work in a new career as a flight attendant with a major airline. I had been able to gain support, turn things around, and move forward in my life too. Although I had not heard from Lacie in a few years, I thought of her frequently. “I had tried” was often what came to me. “I had tried” to have a relationship with Lacie and I was resolved that whatever was to come would eventually work itself out. Eventually.
Years later in 2010, I was taking a class to become a Private Investigator. I thought it would be a great compliment as a second career. I was used to doing more than one job at a time. I could do it when I wasn’t flying and since I had so much success in finding family, my own family, I thought I could use a little formal education with the little bit of experience that I had. It was during that class that I began to search once again for Lacie.
I found her “My Space” page, but it had not been updated in quite some time. I searched and found a family member and reached out via Facebook, however, there was no response or reply to my question, “How is Lacie?”
Where was Lacie?
It became my biggest question that I wanted to find the answer to. So, during a class lecture one day, I began a new search. This time I went to the Colorado Department of Corrections, searched for an inmate, and there she was. Her picture. Her face. Her. Lacie. Standing in front of the black and white measurements to show her general height.
It was a fear of mine, that Lacie would end up in prison. It was evident to me that her childhood did not offer the best environment for growing up. Her parents - mother and “father”, the man that raised her, were challenged with addictions and Lacie was the one who managed to keep the household together. She cleaned, cooked, and was responsible for her little sister. As a young girl, Lacie did all of this while going to school. I had always wanted something better for her. I had desired for her to be in a drug-free/alcohol-free home. Little did I know, that would be the least of my concerns.
Because of what I learned in the PI class, I knew how to obtain arrest records. After seeing where my sister was living and the charges that were keeping her there, I was conflicted. At least she was safe, I hoped. At least she wasn’t subjected to an environment of drugs and alcohol. What was evident to me after reading her charges and comparing her record to a co-defendant in the case was this, she likely did not have a good attorney.
Fast forward to the fall of 2018, when my prayer to connect with my sister was answered so quickly with a phone call. During that call, I learned my sister’s case had been picked up by the Innocence Project. I swung into action and did what I could, even going to get an affidavit notarized stating she had lived with me during the time she was accused of things she never did. It would be my first step into the “justice” system and learning how things don’t always appear to be what they are, including the charges brought against my little sister, Lacie.
As 2019 approached, I assumed that the affidavit with a declaration of truth that I submitted on behalf of my sister would be acknowledged, whoever was in charge would recognize she was wrongfully convicted, and I would get a call that she had been released.
WRONG!!!
It doesn’t happen that way, the way it happens on TV, the way it happens on the primetime TV show Bull. Nope, not at all. In fact, many things do not happen the way they are presented on TV. With no understanding of what to do or how to see my sister, I called Nora and arranged to meet with her in Denver after one of my flights.
At this time, I was flying my work trips in and out of Denver. I had changed my base years earlier and was “commuting” from Houston in order to work without having to always be on call. It was a lot less stressful that way and it is a common thing to do in the airline industry. In June 2019, I sat down with Nora and we had dinner steps away from the airport entrance. She updated me with an enthusiasm about Lacie’s “new” lawyer. Sadly, the previous lawyer with an Innocence Project affiliation had not been able to sustain doing work for free and had to close its doors. This new lawyer had taken on Lacie’s case because she saw the writing on the wall, recognized Lacie was innocent, and this attorney was willing to go to bat for her.
All of this was so foreign to me, I had no experience with lawyers fighting for innocence and I reached out to Lacie’s new attorney to get a better understanding. I eventually met with this new attorney in person on July 10, 2019. One week later, on July 17, 2019, I had my first approved visit with Lacie. It had been 17 years since I had seen her. I was nervous, to say the least!
As I entered the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility, the place Lacie had called home since April 1, 2009, it resembled a TSA checkpoint at the airport. My ID was checked and verified, my shoes were removed, and I stepped through a metal detector, and was waved over with an additional wand for anything that had been undetected by the first detector. In some ways, it mimicked my daily routine of arriving at work.
The big difference occurred once I stepped out of security and began my approach to the first gated entrance. It was a thick metal gate connected to tall metal fences with razor wire at the bottom and at the top. After three monitored and managed entry points, I was escorted into a room where Lacie would soon arrive. I likened it to being a solo goldfish in a fishbowl.
My every move was seen by the guards in their raised “office” of computers, security monitors, and controls. The walls were painted with what I call a discount beige and dark green trim around every window frame. Let me tell you, there were LOTS of windows and therefore, lots of dark green trim. I stood in the large room not sure what to do, not sure which door Lacie would be coming through, not sure what to expect. It had been 17 years since I had last seen her, a young mom, a young woman, a young girl.
We would be allowed to meet in a separate room off the main room. I waited for what seemed like an eternity. Then, I heard the loud break of a door opening, the lock being released, and the door automatically moving to the side. There she was. There was Lacie in her uniform, if you will, a dark green scrubs-like outfit with tan boots. I was actually here, seeing her for the first time, in prison.
It was at that moment I didn’t know what to do or what I was allowed to do.
Do I go to her?
Am I allowed to move from “this” place where I stood in the middle of the fish bowl?
I didn’t want to make any false moves and get in trouble, get kicked out, or get Lacie in any more trouble. It was a new experience and I wasn’t sure how to respond.
That was when Lacie began walking quickly toward me, almost in a slight jog. As she approached me, she told me, “You’re not allowed to run in prison, but I don’t care.” We wrapped our arms around one another and embraced. Hugged one another. I wasn’t sure if it was allowed, but I didn’t care. I held her in my arms and didn’t want to let go.
We held each other and then took a step away to see each other's faces and hugged again. There had to have been a few tears streaming down our cheeks. Happy tears were being released after years of sorrow, sadness, and pain. I was only beginning to learn more about her ordeal and all she had endured in her pursuit of innocence after false accusations were brought against her with no proof.
It was glorious and agonizing all at the same time. I wasn’t quite sure what to do or what to say. I had never visited someone in prison that I cared about, that I loved, or that I missed. I can assure you, that I cared, loved, and missed Lacie more than words could describe. More than that, I missed what could have been what we both shared in our bond as sisters. Even though we never grew up with one another, we had a bond. A bond that was secured by having the same father. That was our connection and it was a strong one that had been uncovered in March 1992 when Lacie was 11 years old, I was 24.
For now, this was a new beginning for Lacie and me. A new beginning, just like her middle name Dawn is defined. A new beginning that had been introduced after a prayer and a phone call. It was a new beginning, indeed.
Stay tuned to hear more about another new beginning that took place recently. Plus, another testimony that has brought more focus and clarity for the two of us since our first reunion in 2019. We have done our best to document and account for all the miracles God has performed and I will share some of the recent miracles in the next Tale of Two Sisters.
Thank you for reading.
As always, if you want to write to Lacie, you can send her a card or letter:
Lacie Nelson
PO Box 392005
Denver, CO 80239
Much love and fulfillment of His promises,
Stephanie
Lacie’s Big Sis’
