Dear Friends,

Jean has been in jail for 24 days, counting today. Wednesday was her court appearance, and before the day is done she will be sentenced to 150 days in jail.

A friend and I went and saw her last week. Well, we saw her over the grainy closed-circut TV screen they allowed us to “visit” over, in the Sheriff Department’s nod to technology. She had been in jail almost two weeks at that point and no one had come to visit her. When she saw us over that TV screen, she burst into tears and said “I knew you guys would come. I told the other people here that I have people, that I have folks who would come and see me. You guys are my family”.

How she got here is a long story, and almost beside the point. Here we are, nonetheless, and she is in jail and I am sitting here in the courtroom, waiting for them to call her case. I sit in the courtroom all day, listening to the court pass down judgment and, sometimes, mercy to those who have offended the state of North Carolina. Jean’s court date was set for 9:00am. Now it is after 1:00pm and still no sign of her. The population of the courtroom fluctuates with folks coming in and leaving – right now the room is about half full. The District Attorney calls her name, and a Bailiff goes into a back room and brings her out.

Her hair is normally slicked down, but now is nappy and dry. She looks like she has lost about 10 pounds. Because of the shackles around her feet, she shuffles rather than walks into the courtroom. The uniform she wears looks like something from a Charlie Chaplin movie and is designed to humble and humiliate her. It looks like it is working.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, she looks up and begins to scan the crowd. I sit up straight and wave. Her eyes light up and she bursts into a huge grin. Despite whatever she did to get here, whatever sentence the court passes down, whether she gets sent back to the hell that is jail or released to the hell that is her life, she will remember that on this day, her family came and sat with her. Whatever demons may come today, she will not have to face them alone. She has people.

When you boil it down, that is what we do out here – sit with people who have no one else. And we are only able to do it as long as you help support us. If you share our belief that by loving people who have no one else we move the kingdom of God forward, I hope you will consider helping to support us financially. I hate having to ask, but things are a bit tough right now.

Love Wins. Always.

Hugh Hollowell