Editor’s note: This story was first published by Curbside Chronicle, Oklahoma City’s street paper.
Lisa Moss began the new year with a new life. She secured a job, created an email account and bought her first smartphone. When she opened a bank account, she was caught off guard. A clerk asked for Lisa’s “cell,” which made her freeze for a moment.
“I was thinking about my cell block,” she said with a laugh. “That was the day after I was released.”
For the past 34 years, Lisa was serving a life sentence at Mabel Bassett Correctional Center in McLoud. She was sentenced along with her brother in 1990 for the death of her husband. But on Jan. 8, she became the first person released under the Oklahoma Survivors’ Act. The new law allows courts to reduce sentences for people convicted of crimes if those crimes stemmed from abuse. Those already convicted can seek re-sentencing and must prove they were a victim of substantial enough abuse in “causing the defendant to commit the offense.”
Lisa’s attorneys successfully proved she had endured substantial abuse to qualify for a re-sentencing. Her January hearing lasted one day in a small Seminole County courtroom packed with her friends and family. The mood in the room was solemn, often the only sounds came from the creaky pews. The judge was direct and matter-of-fact, emphasizing that he would not condone any cheers, cries or other interruptions from the crowd. The hearing ended after the judge declared she would be released that very day — she was re-sentenced to 30 years, but she had already served 34. Lisa turns 60 in September.
“I kept thinking, ‘Is this real?’ It’s very, very humbling — the decision that the judge made. I don’t take that lightly,” Lisa said in a January interview with the Curbside Chronicle. “I’m enormously grateful to (my attorney Colleen McCarty) and her team — for everything they did for me and the work they’re doing for the other women that are after me. I won’t waste a second. I want to be a voice for women. I want to help women.”
Lisa remembers walking out of the courthouse to a cheering crowd. Her family and friends hugged and visited with her before Lisa gave interviews to the press. On the lawn of the courthouse, she took pictures with loved ones and people who worked on her case.
Colleen McCarty is the executive director of the Oklahoma Appleseed Center for Law and Justice, a legal nonprofit that is working pro bono to help with people’s re-sentencing through the Survivors’ Act. McCarty and her team estimated that roughly 150 people might receive sentencing reductions through the new law. OK Appleseed is officially working with 17 clients, but they’ve already received requests from 184 people, including several individuals who do not qualify for re-sentencing and 50 potential clients that need to gather more evidence.
“Lisa is only the first,” she said. “I hope people in positions of authority in the state can shift the way they’re thinking about these cases and possibly even support the applications for re-sentencing. Anybody who’s in an elected position would benefit from supporting survivors of domestic violence.”
Supporting survivors
In 1990, Lisa Moss and her brother Richard Wright were both found guilty and charged with first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder. Lisa was also charged with solicitation to commit murder — a crime that generally involves asking or telling someone else to commit murder. Lisa told the court that she was in an abusive relationship with her husband, Mike Moss, who would abuse her sexually, emotionally, physically and financially.
She also said Mike sexually abused her underage daughter — his stepdaughter. After telling her brother about the abuse, Richard shot and killed Mike. Both Lisa and Richard testified again at the re-sentencing hearing, marking the first time they had seen each other in more than three decades.
“The hardest part was hearing my brother testify about wanting to protect us. I hadn’t heard his voice in almost 35 years. ... He saved my life again,” she said. “I was terrified at the hearing. It takes a lot of vulnerability to open up and retell all the horrific things that happened. I didn’t want that on display, especially in a room full of people who I love dearly, but it was important. I had to push through.”
Margaret Black serves as a vice president of clinical services at Domestic Violence Intervention Services in Tulsa and has been working within the domestic violence field for almost a decade. She also served as an expert witness in Lisa’s re-sentencing hearing. Black said the domestic violence movement has evolved over the decades since Lisa’s incarceration. There are more services for survivors — things like counseling and housing assistance — and generally more research and compassion than in the ’90s.
“It was pretty clear as we evaluated this case that Lisa is absolutely a survivor and domestic violence played a substantial role in the crime. It felt so incumbent to move forward with this re-sentencing bid,” she said. “In the ’90s, it was probably really important to see both Richard and Lisa as criminals because someone’s life was lost. … Potentially, we overlooked Lisa’s experience and what was driving the utter fear and terror she had for her husband.”
Oklahoma’s justice system has historically been harsh on women. It has among the lowest scores for women’s healthcare, safety and economic and social well-being. It ranks as the state with the most reported instances of domestic violence against women, and for a long time led the nation in female incarceration — it’s still among the top.
During the hearing, Black discussed the Danger Assessment tool, a set of questions to help assess the potential lethality of an intimate partner. The assessment gives a score from 0 to 18 and above. Anything ranked 18 and above means extreme danger. Through court documents and an interview with Lisa directly, Black completed the assessment for Lisa and said her score was a 24. For scores that high, recommendations include taking assertive action, calling for criminal justice, and recommending the highest bail, highest sentencing and highest probation supervision for her partner.
“Lisa described Mike being a very different person in public than he was in their home. That is a very common tactic used by intimate partner abusers. The lack of community understanding really leads the community to question the survivor as opposed to believing the survivor and questioning the harm that’s actually being reported,” Black said. “The Oklahoma Survivors’ Act allows us to think about humane sentencing. Thirty-four years of incarceration — that’s an entire lifetime. I hope that the judge’s ultimate decision here indicates an opportunity for that mindset to grow … for these re-sentencing cases after Lisa.”
Though there’s still a lot of work to do in terms of criminal justice reform for domestic violence survivors, McCarty said the Survivors’ Act and Lisa’s victory represent a seismic shift.
“I hate to overstate it, but I think that’s true,” McCarty said. “For them to believe someone who’s been in prison at all is a shift. To then believe they were a victim of domestic violence, it changes the game. This law alters the way women in prison feel about themselves. They feel like they have been gaslit for a long time because the system tells them they aren’t really victims. … Historically, cases have been very black or white, guilty or innocent, but there’s a lot of nuance after ‘guilty.’”
‘What you’re going to hang on to’
Lisa spent the past 34 years in prison, missing important moments in her personal life and having to adjust to a new reality. She was responsible for two children — a 5-year-old daughter and 1-year-old son — when she was incarcerated. Despite knowing she was sentenced to life, Lisa said it was crucial for her to find moments of happiness.
“I’ve stayed connected to my daughter, but I lost all rights to my son. He was one when I went to prison. The last time I saw him, he was three,” Lisa said. “That’s been the toughest part, being away from the kids and just trying to maintain hope in a hopeless situation.”
When her daughter was much younger, Lisa’s parents would bring her to prison visits up to three times a month. After her daughter turned 18, the visits occurred less often, but they still spoke over the phone. Lisa said one of the most heartbreaking things prison kept her from was saying goodbye to both of her parents when they passed away. Lisa attended a private funeral for her mother. However, the rules later changed, and she wasn’t allowed to attend her father’s service.
“They did give me ten minutes at his funeral home, but I was by myself and didn’t get to be around family,” she said. “That was really tough. You feel isolated. You feel alone. I still have not been to their grave site since I’ve been out, but that’s coming.”
Lisa got involved in several classes offered at Mabel Bassett, earned an associate’s degree and maintained a job through the Oklahoma Correctional Industries customer service department. She also joined the RISE cosmetology program, where she got four licenses — for cosmetology and barbering and a master instructor license for both. Curbside previously interviewed Lisa to highlight the RISE program. In a room with green walls, filled with mirrors and salon chairs, Lisa said she found her passion. Entering that special place felt like going into a typical beauty shop — not one surrounded by chain-linked fences and razor wire.
“You figure out quickly what you’re going to hang on to. Is prison going to swallow you up or are you going to beat it? Thankfully, I had a lot of faith-filled women around me,” she said. “One in particular who visited me and mentored me for 32 years. She became another mother to me and stood by me all this time. I give her a lot of credit for keeping my spirits up.”
Thanks to her involvement with the RISE program, Lisa has a job waiting for her at the OKC Campus, where she’ll be teaching others everything from cutting hair and shaves to doing nails and facial treatments. She’s also set to move into a new home in the near future.
“I feel blessed because so many people coming out of prison don’t have these opportunities. I’m grateful that I have a good support system,” she said. “Failure is not an option.”
Looking to the horizon
Since her release, Lisa has been spending most of her time with loved ones. She’s reconnecting with her daughter and meeting other family members for the first time. She’s also spoken with her brother again over the phone. Although she has a job and a place to live lined up, she’s taking time to visit friends in other states and planning a couple more trips before settling down.
“I’m definitely making up for lost time,” she said. “I want to go wherever I can and enjoy life. Even if it’s down the street — to just take a walk. It’s not the big things that matter, it’s the simple things. … In prison, you don’t get to be outside and watch the sunset or watch the sun come up. I’m not taking things like that for granted anymore.”
A new life takes some getting used to. Even her cell phone was overwhelming at first. Lisa wasn’t used to text messages, and she didn’t realize some people expected a response right away. Grocery shopping also seemed daunting at first — the sheer size of stores was unnerving — but that’s something Lisa has already conquered multiple times over. Possibly the hardest thing to get used to has been being alone and silence — things that aren’t as common in prison.
“That’s been a big adjustment, just acclimating to being alone and being okay with it. Sometimes the silence is too much, so I’ll turn on the fan or some soft music,” she said. “Things can be overwhelming in general, but I’m not going to let life whoop me. I lived in fear for so long before going to prison. I lived in fear for some of my time in prison. The only restrictions that I have are the ones that I put on myself.”
When Lisa thinks back to her re-sentencing hearing and her life since then, the word she uses to describe her feelings is surreal. She said the loved ones who remained hopeful and awaited her release are what keep her grounded.
“It still feels surreal sometimes,” she said. “To be able to hold my daughter in my arms; to be able to hug her outside of those prison walls and know that I get to have a relationship with her now that she’s grown, it’s exciting.”
Lisa met her son-in-law in the courtroom. The following week, she connected with her grandkids and her 3-month-old great-grandchild. During the first week she was free, Lisa said her family prepared a turkey dinner in January. Better late than never.
“I had hoped to be released before the holidays, but they saved a turkey, and we had a Thanksgiving dinner together,” Lisa said. “I don’t think anything trumps being with the kids — holding the baby and hugging the older grandkids. Reconnecting is where we are. … My daughter has a life; I’m just grateful that she’s letting me be a part of it. She’s opened her heart and her arms, so I thank God for that every day.”
About Curbside Chronicle: The Curbside Chronicle is Oklahoma City’s street paper. It was created to amplify voices and create employment for people experiencing homelessness. Our vendors buy magazines at 75 cents per issue and sell them for a suggested payment of $2. The vendors keep the profit. Thanks for your support in ending homelessness in OKC. You can support Curbside’s mission by donating here.
Editor’s note: In the interest of full disclosure, Vince LoVoi is on the board of OK Appleseed and also the chair of This Land Press. Margaret Black, who served as expert witness in Lisa Moss’s hearing, is married to The Pickup editor-in-chief Matt Carney.
