To the people who blame parents when their children are incarcerated— by Kelli Cooper

Let me tell you something you will never understand unless you’ve lived it.

The day the judge said, “You are sentenced to decades in the Florida Department of Corrections,” my world ended. I screamed. The room went black. I heard nothing else. They escorted me out of the courtroom as if I was the one who had been sentenced.

A part of me died that day. A part I will never get back.

My son—my only child—was taken from me for what feels like a lifetime. Decades. Numbers so large they don’t even feel real. Ask yourself what it does to a mother to carry that weight every single day. Ask yourself what it feels like to wonder if you’ll even be alive when your child is finally free. Ask yourself if he will survive all those years inside a system that breaks people.

And then—before you open your mouth to judge—understand this:

No one blames themselves more than a parent already does.

I replayed my son’s entire life on repeat, searching for every moment I thought I failed him. Every decision. Every missed sign. Every “what if.” I carried guilt so heavy it nearly crushed me. I sank into a depression so deep I begged God to take my life and my son’s because the pain felt unbearable.

You don’t need to point fingers.

We already live with the weight of blame every single day.

Never—not for one second—did I imagine this would be our reality. No parent raises a child dreaming of courtrooms, prison gates, or decades of separation. No parent plans for this kind of heartbreak.

But one day, somehow, I chose to live.

I chose to fight.

I stopped surviving in silence. I started paying attention. I learned. I listened. I got involved. I turned pain into purpose—not just for my son, but for other families who carry the same invisible sentence. For the people society discards and forgets behind concrete walls.

So before you blame a parent, remember this:

We didn’t just lose our children—we lost parts of ourselves.

We carry guilt you can’t imagine.

We grieve lives that will never look the way we dreamed.

And instead of breaking under your judgment, many of us stand up anyway.

We fight.

We advocate.

We speak for those who cannot.

Not because we’re perfect parents—but because love doesn’t end at a prison gate.

And neither does a mother’s fight.

Todd Lloyd's story, from the perspective of his devoted mom, Carol. Todd was arrested and sentenced to more than 18 years in prison after she summoned help when he experiencing a mental health crisis:

First, let me start out by saying Todd has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. He was always athletic and trained hard and he was number one in the silver division for boxing. He could have turned pro if things would have been different. This is my point of view and from my heart of the things that took place the day Todd was unlawfully arrested when it was supposed to be a welfare check.

Todd and Jennifer Hartman pulled up to my house. She was his girlfriend. He was high and extremely paranoid and very suicidal. She told me he was going to jump off the roof. He was afraid and didn't want to be in any more pain. He thought the mirrors and the seats were moving inside her vehicle even with the engine turned off and we were all standing in the front yard. He also kept saying he heard things even when none of us were talking. That is the only reason I called his corrections officer Don Wilkins. I was hoping the man would see the condition he was in and immediately drive him to treatment which was court ordered and he had failed to do or at least put him in the hospital until it could be arranged. Wilkins excuse was nobody wanted Todd because of his record. Jennifer had even told Wilkins she would drive Todd to treatment out of town if necessary. Todd wanted to get help. He never had any drug addiction until he went to prison. I had no idea the chaos that was about to happen which would lead to Todd's arrest, especially for something he didn't do. How was I supposed to live with myself if Todd would have jumped off the roof and died or been paralyzed? I had no idea Wilkins would bring a cop with him, it was a welfare check, that was it!! As soon as Todd seen the police car coming down the street he told Jennifer to stay at my house and he would come back later. She clearly said no. I'm coming with you. She probably saved his life by going that day. It went from a welfare check to the police being high on adrenaline and lacking common sense at least in this situation, they clearly didn't have the facts or really tried to obtain them. They just assumed the worst. It really aggravates me when people say prisoners have three adults and a cot. They have no idea what these people go through. By writing this, I'm hoping the right person will say this and ask for documentation and dash cam audio, which we can provide to help Todd get his case overturned, credit for time served or something positive to happen for Todd. He has lost his stepdad, his grandma, his brother is having health problems and who knows what my future holds. Time is short!!

Carol Lloyd

Hutchinson, KS