My name is Jessica Tubb, I am 39 years old, and I am from Mobile, AL. I was raised with 2 of my 3 brothers until I was 5 and my parents divorced. My mother and I moved to North Carolina where I remained until she passed away when I was 12, and I moved back to Mobile, AL with my father. There I was sexually abused, and it was never addressed. When I was 17 I walked 2 miles each way to volunteer 40 hours a week at the Boys & Girls Clubs administration offices. It got me out of the house, I was able to display my abilities which earned me great recommendations for employment, and I was able to make contacts with the board members. That position offered no pay, but they were in dire need, and in turn, I was rewarded with a Presidential Scholarship for college from Bill Clinton and also accepted a position at a law firm, offered by one of the board members. I saved 100% of my paychecks for a few months and moved out of my father’s house. I wasn’t even legally an adult yet. My father & stepmother refused to fill out their portion of my college applications or my financial aid, they refused to sign me into the hospital when I was very sick and refused to notify me when my grandmother became ill, or when she passed away. I was very much a child alone in the world. I moved in with my boyfriend of 2 years, got engaged, planned a wedding, and a week after I said “I do”, I found out I was pregnant, and living on campus and going to school full time was a dream of the past. My scholarship was for full-time on-campus students only, so I enrolled myself part-time on an online campus. I enjoyed mothering my son, learning to be a wife, a student, a full-time employee, and finally feeling the love of having a family thanks to my in-laws. I got a job at a software firm, and it was absolutely my dream job! I led the “American Dream” white picket life for years. When I was 32, the stress of my husband’s addictions and infidelities’ led me to divorce. Later, I started seeing my best friend I’ve known since birth. He introduced me to opiates. A year later, I lost my house, my car, my son, and my job all in one week, and on the last day of the week, my fiance died in my arms. I lost my mind as well, I tried to take my own life. I was in a coma for a week, and then back in the streets, seriously alone this time, with nowhere to go. I had few options, I could sell myself, but swore I would never bring myself that low after the abuse I had been thru… or I could sell drugs, which at the time felt like the lesser of two evils. So I went and found my dealer, and he fronted me what I needed to get myself a room, some food, get myself “well” from my withdrawal, and make enough to pay him back, and score again. I sold anything I could get cheap and make a profit from, but mainly it was pills, methamphetamine, and heroin. Eventually, my dealer (an older black man) and I started staying in the same hotel room. He was sick and needed help, and I had no car so this was easier than getting a ride to go get drugs a few times a day. His health got worse and we moved to stay with his mother. Her family calls her the most racist woman on the planet. I never would have guessed. All she saw was someone who genuinely cared for her son, helped him in his healthcare, and had a big heart that just wanted to be accepted, and so she always called me her granddaughter. The entire neighborhood was all family, the entire family was black, and not only did they all accept me as one of their own… I learned a sense of family that I had never felt from anyone in my life before. I finally had what I was chasing for years; a family. My dealer and I went to the hotel to make some money, and I sold a prostitute a point so she could “get well” and make some money. She passed away at that point in my hotel room. This started out a federal investigation, and they watched us for years unbeknown to us. I plead guilty, and in open court, I admitted it was my fault. The family I was so proud to have is now all in prison as well. I have 43 co-defendants, and 6 people lost their lives due to our drug distributions. The feds labeled The Crossley Hill Drug Trafficking Organization. It felt like my life was over. Suddenly I got a letter from a long-lost friend who wanted to let me know that I at least had one person to count on while I’m on this bid. It’s been 3 years and he has been faithfully supportive of me in all ways possible. I am so blessed his family feels like people deserve second chances, and have taken the time to get to know me and accept me into their family circle. I speak to my son daily, he’s 17 years old now, and a senior in high school this year. I met my granddaughter over a video visit when she was a day old, she’s 2 now, and get’s to visit her “Nannan” (me) once a month via video visit. I don’t qualify for the zero-point offender reduction coming next year, because my death enhancement makes me disqualified. I don’t qualify for FSA, but I am on the waiting list for every FSA class offered at my facility. However, due to the length of time, I have left to serve, I am rarely selected to attend any of the classes. For now, I am gathering information on available college classes so I can work towards finishing my degree. We have absolutely NO resources or assistance here with helping us prepare for release, or start a release plan so I am looking forward to the next Michael Santos publication. I’m excited to start preparing for my own success after the release story, and can’t wait to share the information with others here as well. My next short-term goal is getting to a camp. My points are a 10, but I have to get past a greater security management variable which no one can explain to me why I have. I am hopeful to have that resolved and meet my camp goal by April 2024.
