Girl Scout troop meets at prison

By MEGAN TWOHEY
mtwohey@journalsentinel.com

Posted: Jan. 14, 2005

Union Grove - It was Saturday morning, and a dozen Girl Scouts chattered with excitement as they stepped through a metal detector.

A guard asked one to remove her jewelry, another, her belt.

"You don't want to make it beep," the guard said.

It's a required ritual for a group of Girl Scouts that will never get to meet around a kitchen table. Each girl's mother is in prison. The Scout troop is a ticket to see her.

Ellsworth Correctional Facility launched the troop last fall to address a troubling side effect of crime: Children of incarcerated women are five times more likely to be arrested than other children and are susceptible to a host of additional problems.

The prison's Girl Scout program, the first of its kind in Wisconsin, allows inmates to mother their daughters - if only for several hours each month. For some, it has provided the first family reunion in years.

"It keeps us connected," said Aretha Allen, 31, of Racine, who has been behind bars for two years. Prior to the Girl Scout troop, she had seen her three daughters a total of six times.

After passing through the metal detector, the Girl Scouts, ages 5 to 15, poured into a large visiting room that looked out at a barbed wire fence.

Sitting at white cafeteria tables were the mothers. Each rose with anticipation as the girls walked in.

When the troop first began, the girls, some of them sisters, were shy and nervous, said Mary Spector, program services manager for Girl Scouts of Racine County.

Most had landed with relatives or in foster homes after their mothers were convicted and imprisoned. When Spector picked up the Racine girls for the first Girl Scout meeting, none would speak.

Even at the prison, the mothers and daughters were uneasy.

"Many of the moms had not had contact with the girls in a number of months or years," Spector said. "There was a lot of quietness and awkwardness."

But the atmosphere improved with the help of Girl Scout team-building activities. In one, the mothers and daughters gathered in a circle, crossed arms and locked hands with someone across from them. The result: a human knot that required untangling.

By last month, all were eager to participate in the troop's official swearing-in ceremony.

"We got Girl Scout pins, and sashes, and we were able to light candles," said Bretne, Allen's 12-year-old daughter, without taking a breath.

Talk, tears, Tater Tots

At January's meeting, the girls barreled into the arms of their mothers and began unloading stories from home at a rapid pace. Many said it can be difficult to talk openly with their mothers during normal visiting hours when other relatives are around.

"I'm happy," said Daneya Johnson, 15, of Racine. Her mother, Dania Curtis, has been imprisoned for more than four years. "It's just me and her talking."

Bovette Terry, 12, of Racine said it had been a struggle since her mother, Gwendolyn Cole, had landed in Ellsworth last March.

"Sometimes it's hard," Bovette said. "It's hard when I miss you."

Tears filled Cole's eyes.

"I'm going to start crying," she said.

After a lunch of roast beef sandwiches and Tater Tots, the troop read a book about two zebras, one with spots, the other with stripes.

A discussion about diversity followed. It required many of the girls to break away from their mothers and find other partners - a task that proved difficult for Brenesha, Allen's 5-year-old daughter.

When another mother requested her, Brenesha threw her arms around Allen, burrowed her face in her chest and began to cry.

"Now you've hurt her feelings," Allen said. "I want you to go make her feel better."

Brenesha obliged. But 8-year-old Damilez Maldonado insisted on remaining with her mother, Ileana Serrano.

"She likes carrots, and I don't," Serrano said after the talk about similarities and differences. "We both like vanilla. She doesn't like to be yelled at."

In the end, the mothers and daughters stood in a circle and linked hands. One by one, they turned to the person on their left and said: "I love you."

The mothers leaned their faces against the room's windows as the girls filed out. They waved and mouthed goodbyes.

Out in the prison's parking lot, blood began to trickle from Brenesha's mouth. One of her teeth had come loose.

For most young girls, a mother would be on hand to provide comfort. But Brenesha had to turn to her sisters instead. Her mother was out of reach. She was heading back to her prison cell.

From the Jan. 15, 2005, editions of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel