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WILKES-BARRE, Pa. (AP) — Tucked in the five-story Luzerne County prison is a floor just for women, and it's busier than ever with a hornet's nest of challenges.
On a recent day, four inmates were pregnant, which has become the norm.
Most have had prior brushes with the law and are addicted to drugs.
More than 80 percent at any given time were sexually or physically assaulted at some point in their lives, said prison Treatment Coordinator Grace Franks.
Many arrived banged up.
"The one month I swear every girl that walked in the door had a black eye," Franks said.
And the number landing on the prison's fourth floor female unit has been rising.
A decade ago, the county typically had around 55 female inmates.
In the past two years, the number hovered around the floor's maximum capacity of 90, often forcing the housing of several in neighboring Lackawanna County due to overcrowding, county Correctional Division Head J. Allen Nesbitt said.
Women must be segregated, and the prison on Water Street is too crowded with more than 400 men to give up another floor.
"It's a national trend. Females have become equal opportunity offenders in a sense," Nesbitt said.
Inmate's turnaround
Edwardsville resident Cindy Janosky was one of those inmates, but unlike most, she finally found her way.
She landed in the county and state prison system twice on drug-related charges stemming from her 30-year addiction to crack cocaine.
Her first county stay was only a week in the late 1980s, when the county prison system provided few rehabilitation programs.
"Back then you just pretty much sat around and played cards and did a lot of nothing," Janosky said.
She was surprised to see the increase in fellow inmates and programs during her four-month county incarceration in 2012, when she connected with Franks.
Franks bombards the women who are open to help with programs, many at no cost to taxpayers.
They have access to drug and alcohol counseling, mental health therapy, spiritual discussions, parenting classes and sessions on self-esteem, domestic violence, victims' resources, sexually transmitted diseases and career training.
Though many women keep getting in trouble and coming back, Franks doesn't judge or give up on anyone. Still, inside she was worried Janosky wouldn't make it.
"When she walked into this jail, I thought she was going to end up dead she was such a heavy drug user," said Franks, who has become a faithful reader of obituaries.
Janosky didn't believe she was capable of change at first, saying she always thought she was going to be a "career drug addict." She credits Franks for helping her change her way of thinking and sparking a determination to become a productive citizen.
"Grace listens to women and tries to give them direction. She really cares about them," she said.
Janosky was released from the state prison system a year ago and became a certified peer specialist to help others struggling with mental health issues and addiction.
She works at a local mental health agency, has her own apartment and car and has spruced up her physical appearance. Janosky also publicly speaks about the importance of programs for inmates returning to the community after incarceration and plans to tell her story in the near future to county female inmates.
"I've changed totally, from the inside out. You have to change from within first. You have to forgive from within," she said.
Drugs, molestation
Why were there fewer county female inmates years ago?
Nesbitt primarily blames the drug epidemic and a lack of family or government-provided housing and care for people with mental health problems.
Assault often is at the root, Franks said.
Many of the inmates have told her they ran away as young adults due to molestation in their household. Some hook up with "sugar daddies" who abuse them.
Few received extensive mental health treatment to deal with the ramifications of their abuse, she said.
"When you're sexually assaulted, that's something that stays with you your whole life, and you need to address it," she said. "I see so many of the women that just can't get past having no self-esteem."
Enter the drugs, particularly heroin, which is cheap and easy to come by in the county, Franks said. Heroin is big with "the girls" as she calls them because it numbs them, a form of self-medication, she said.
Desperate to find a new vein, some have injected the drug all over their feet, in their mouths and even their eyelids, she said.
The resulting scabs and skin infections all over their bodies have become a common sight.
Franks has witnessed the physical transformation as offenders returned over her four years on the job.
"Such beautiful girls you see coming in, and as the years go on. it's sad," she said.
Sleep, sobriety
Regular meals, sleep and sobriety help.
"For a while they're a little bit wild when they come in and then we make them human again," Nesbitt said.
Some police ask Franks how she can work with the often combative and dazed women they bring in.
"We get to see the good side of them. They see the bad side. We get them when they're sober and they're good, so they're completely different people here," she said.
Pregnant inmates pose a challenge because at least one female guard must accompany them to doctor visits and trips to a methadone clinic if prescribed to protect the fetus, Nesbitt said.
About 98 percent of the prison pregnancies are categorized as high-risk because of addiction, a lack of prenatal care and past miscarriages or complications, Franks said.
Overtime is often unavoidable because female guards must be called in if enough aren't scheduled.
Union-mandated shift selections based on the seniority of all guards, male and female, sometimes prevent the scheduling of more female guards on weekdays during the day — the most popular shift — when doctor or medication visits are usually available, he said.
"With four pregnant, we have runs going almost all the time it seems," he said.
As pregnancies progress, the inmates get bigger orange prison garb and an extra mattress.
Little support
Female inmates generally appear to have less constructive support outside, which can make a life transformation more difficult, Nesbitt said.
Visiting days are a prime example, he said.
The male inmates tend to receive a steady stream of visits from girlfriends or spouses, often with kids in tow. In comparison, the partners of female inmates usually desert them while they're incarcerated.
Incarcerated men also typically receive more deposits in their accounts to buy food and other products from the prison commissary, he said.
While some women have alienated loved ones through their actions, many never had positive friends, relatives or role models, he said.
During incarceration, women on the fourth floor often form their own "family units," with a mom and sisters, to bond and back each other up, Nesbitt said.
But it's not all "Kumbaya."
The mix includes more females involved in drug dealing, gangs and violence, Nesbitt said.
"They've definitely become a harder, tougher population," he said.
Inmate mindset
Some women can't get off the mindset that they need a man — no matter how controlling or hurtful — to be complete, she said.
The women are herded in and out for group sessions or time in the yard outside, but their occasional sightings of male inmates usually prompt female waves and blowing kisses.
"Do you really think you're going to find your husband in jail?" Franks asks them.
She's still coming to terms with inmates who leave touched by therapy and determined to change their lives, only to return to drugs and abusive relationships.
"I put so much effort into some of these people. It's hard sometimes. It is," she said.
The female inmates often return to "the same situation that brought them here" because it's "what they know" and they don't have the resources to "step away," Nesbitt said.
Their criminal record also may prevent them from getting into some housing programs for abused and/or recovering women upon release, Franks said.
Janosky said it's not easy. She had to rely on her mother — her "rock" — for a place to live for several months until she got on her feet. She faced dozens of employment rejection letters due to her record.
"But I chose before I left prison to be a different person, and it boils down to your choices and decisions. Do you want to live in havoc and chaos, or do you want your life to be better?"
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