Tag: Securus

The Execution of Christa Pike

On By ChristopherIn Children in Prison, Death Row, In This World, Women Behind Bars1 Comment

By Christopher Monihan

I don’t even know where to begin today’s post. For the first time in a long time I am at a loss for words.

Christa Pike is an incarcerated person and let’s establish that here and now — she is a PERSON and not a prisoner, or inmate or whatever other stereotype word uninformed people have for those who are incarcerated — and she is on death row in Tennessee for a crime she committed when she was a teen girl. She has been on death row for nearly 32 years.

The state of Tennessee recently went to put her to death using so-called lethal drugs, of which the sourcing and particular nature are kept secret due to America’s growing opposition toward the death penalty. For nearly 30 minutes onlookers watched as Christa Pike endured being poisoned to death. For nearly 30 minutes the state of Tennessee carried out societal retribution.

Then, more than 30 minutes after the execution began, Christa Pike was rushed to a hospital.

As I write Christa Pike is alive. Officials in Tennessee are putting on their best ‘Uh, what happened?’ faces and the governor has ordered an investigation and review of what happened.

By now many of you reading this will have searched Christa Pike and read about her botched execution (which no doubt will be attempted again if history is any guide), and read about the crime that put her on death row, and about her accomplices who struck deals with the state of Tennessee to testify against her and save their own skin despite all three having participated in the murder of a schoolmate.

What you may not know about Christa Pike is that she was a child who grew up in an impoverished household and endured physical and mental abuse. She lived in a dysfunctional family that didn’t nurture her in those critical developmental years as a child that we now know are important. By the time she was 17 she suffered from numerous traumas. I know all of this because I got to know Christa Pike.

She and I regularly wrote to each other several years ago. I lost contact with her shortly after the covid pandemic, but understood why. Just mentally making it through another day on death row or even writing a simple letter was difficult for her on some days. In my letters with her she expressed numerous fears and personal struggles all of which were trauma related.

Christa is a bright girl who is optimistic but struggles to cope with traumas wrought from her childhood. As an adult she understood these truths. She often told me how she had worked to overcome her traumas and to heal.

The thing that struck me about Christa was how caring she seemed. She often talked about simply wanting to be loved. She shared her dreams of walking on the grass again, of being outside again, and of someday being able to travel to places in the world.

She shared with me the love she had for her family. Despite all that she endured in her childhood, she truly loved her family. I love my family and I think most readers can relate. She cherished the few visits she received and looked forward to a day where she could be with family again. This despite knowing she may never leave death row.

In the press Christa Pike is painted as a monster. People that do not know her have offered up their opinions to support this assertion. There is nearly nothing in the media that speaks to who Christa Pike is, but only of her worst moment in life. It is easy to dismiss a person sentenced to death when we label them as less than human.

What Christa and her accomplices did to a classmate in the woods one day a lifetime ago is inexcusable. It is obvious to anyone who reads about that day that Christa Pike did not arrive at that moment in a positive mental capacity. As a teen she was a follower, and greatly influenced by her accomplices. She has been severely punished for her actions, while her accomplices walk free.

I believe that we all atone for our sins. When we commit crime we face punishment and I accept that. But, when is punishment enough? Is it when we reach the stated end of a court ordered sentence of are released by a parole board or other governing authority? Is it when we reach a point in our lives where we have changed our thinking and overcome our traumas? Or is it when we are tortured for 30 minutes in a botched execution yet survive? Which is it?

The death penalty has been abolished in nearly every Western nation in the world. The United States holds itself in company with countries like Sudan, China, Russia, and Iran with clinging to the death penalty. We sacrifice a piece of our humanity when society clings to revenge.

Christa Pike is a human being who loves, and dreams of a better life and a better world. She cherishes thoughts of the past and of a comfort that time and trauma have not yet stole from her. She loves her family and friends. These are the things that she talked about with me.

The one thing that recurred in our letters was how she felt deep remorse for what she and her friends did. She owned her past and never once tried to shirk acceptance and responsibility. She even spoke of a hopeful future that she believed could still come true.

However, in our letters I realized that Christa Pike was in many ways still a teenage girl. She knows not life past 18 years old, she only knows four walls with a steel door. When we come to prison, it has a way of arresting mental development. Unless you are aware of this truth, you will always have one mental foot chained in the past. This is the Christa Pike that our society wishes to kill.

Now she lies in a hospital between life and death. The state of Tennessee tried for nearly 30 minutes to kill this girl and failed.

Has Christa Pike paid her debt to society? Or are we no more civil than the animals?

*Christopher Monihan is an author, journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

If anyone reading this knows and is in contact with Christa Pike, please reach out to me through prison messaging app ” GTL GettingOut” (my booking number is A310612 and I am at ODRC Madison Correctional Institution), or by mail at :
Christopher Monihan A310612
MaCI / OMPC
884 Coitsville-Hubbard Road
Youngstown, Ohio 44505

Dear Mr. Tanvir
By Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn 1st Times, Angels, In This World, Pivotal MomentsLeave a comment

Dear Mr. Tanvir,

It has been a decade since I last saw you.

Recently, I was working on a self-help reentry course and within the module the course assigned a writing assignment:

“Write a letter to someone who has made an impact on your life since you have been incarcerated. Express your thoughts and feelings.”

There have been many who have positively impacted my life over the past 32 years of incarceration. I am grateful. None though impacted my life more than you.

We met in the summer of 2006. I remember that day well. I was working the library front desk checking in books when you walked in.

For weeks rumors swirled about someone new who had been hired to replace our outgoing boss. This new person was said to also be an imam and a hard man. The rumors were true. You were a hard man, but I am thankful for that.

That year I was going through a very dark time in my life. I was 11 years in on a 50 year sentence and on most days was only existing.

I remember our first discussion about Islam. I knew nothing about he Holy Koran, about its history and its prophet Mohammed or about the people of the world who are believers. I only knew stereotypes about your faith — just as most people only know stereotypes about incarcerated people.

I am ashamed to even admit that truth.

Despite my ignorance you kindly sat with me day-after-day patiently teaching me that which I didn’t understand. I must have peppered you with hundreds of questions.

You gently allowed me to discover my own truths, never trying to impose a belief upon me. I am grateful for you having done that.

Yet, I am most grateful for something else you did. While at work, in between my job duties at the front desk, I would sit and write. On one of those days you called me into the office and asked to see what I was writing.

I was hesitant because I knew you were a hard man, and I was nervous because I knew you would see what I had written.

“What is this?” you asked.
“I’m writing a book for correctional staff,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because there are things that many staff do that incarcerated people receive in a negative way. It doesn’t have to be this way. It can be done better, and it can help us.”

I sat quietly as you skimmed my work. You then photocopied each page and returned my originals to me without explanation saying, “Go back to work.” I returned to the front desk nervous and worried.

Two days later you called me back into the office.

“Sit down,” you said.
I took a seat.
“I have a couple of books for you,” you said. “I got permission to bring these to you. They are books from my college days. These are written by renowned people and I want you to read them. They will help you to write your book.”

The books were written by Drs. Samenow and Yochelson, psychologists who have influenced the modern day approach to corrections and interacting with incarcerated people.

Over the next several weeks I read each book — one-thousand six-hundred pages of research data, and observations — the culmination of Samenow and Yochelson’s decades of research into the thinking and actions of people who live outside societal norms.

To my astonishment, I observed myself within those pages. By the time I had finished reading I understood myself for the first time in my life.

Thank you Mr. Tanvir for your kindness, and for gently steering me toward discovery. Because of you I found myself. I gained what I needed in order to change — my thinking, values, actions, and observations — and how to do it. Because of you I have embarked upon a lifetime journey of reconciliation and growth.

I now help others who are in the same dark place I once was. I help them to help themselves while discovering a new path with a bright future. You would be proud of me.

Even in your last days when sick with cancer, you still found time to shower me with wisdom and love. If you had a mission in this world I know you accomplished it.

May Peace Be With You.


*Christopher Monihan is an author of two books, a journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

Some of Us Are Looking At the Stars by Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn Children in Prison, In This World, RehabilitationLeave a comment

I find strength and direction in the words of Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Oscar Wilde — all of whom were formerly incarcerated people. Their experience is that of every prisoner for the experience of incarnation transcends borders and time.

One of my favorite writings is the Ballad of Reading Gaol, by Oscar Wilde. Wilde was imprisoned more than 150 years ago in Europe’s infamous Reading Gaol prison. A former socialite fallen from grace, Wilde is reborn through the trials and tribulations of his time while at Reading Gaol.

(“And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats / None know so well as I” — Oscar Wilde)

Wilde struggled to cope with what he witnessed at Reading Gaol. Fellow prisoners preying upon one another, executions by the Hangman’s nose; and the beating of an imprisoned child younger than 10 years old at the hands of Reading Gaol’s warders. The boy’s crime? Shoplifting bread for nothing more than to stave off Poverty’s cruel hand of starvation.

(“In Reading Gaol by Reading Town / There is a pit of shame.” — Oscar Wilde)

Every prison has its pit of shame, metaphorical for the dark acts kept hidden from the light of day. I am captivated by the words of a prisoner who lived centuries before me, for our experience transcends time. Every incarcerated person can relate. If I slow down but for a moment I can hear the heavy metal clank of Reading Gaol’s cell doors, feel the damp on my skin and taste the mustiness of air, for despite the separation of time some things in prison don’t change.

Early in my sentence the State of Ohio executed its incarcerated people with cyclical rhythm. On those days the gravity of execution weighed heavy on many of us.

Oscar Wilde too struggled with the executions of his time. He understood, as I do too, that we give up a piece of our humanity when society clutches revenge close to it’s heart.

(“To see the universe and all pervading spirit of truth face to face, one must be able to love the meanest of all creatures as one’s self.” — Mahatma Gandhi)

In the 1990’s I became a certified GED tutor. I tutored the kids that were here, juvenile boys the youngest of whom was 14 years old. Like Wilde, I felt for the kids.

My experience with the juveniles taught me a lot about myself. The boys suffered from childhood traumas  with many having been sexually abused; or came from broken homes; or came from the foster care system — many from all three and then some. The more I got to know them the more I realized they were just like other boys. They yearned for acceptance, love, and guidance. They dreamt the same dreams every teen boy dreams, except for them dreams were all they had.

(“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands in times of challenge.” — Martin Luther King Jr.)

My time tutoring the boys greatly impacted me. As Oscar Wilde did I too witnessed similar things, boys struggling to cope and make sense of their situation; and, boys who were beaten by the very people entrusted with their safety. What is a yong man to make of this? I was still a kid myself back then.

On a balmy afternoon when the sky was blue and unfettered, one of my students was murdered on account of his skin color. I was devastated. The evil that lurks in every prison had struck close to me.

I had poured my heart and soul into that kid and then he was no longer. My mind literally couldn’t process what had happened. I had gotten to know the boy and realized he simply yearned for a guiding figure in his life — it seemed all the boys yearned for that.

I hid my trauma and pain from family. I have always shielded them from unnecessary worry as most incarcerated people do. I’ve only recently begun writing about that long ago event.

In prison we experience things only our nightmares can prepare us for. We hide that which the world makes us hold, while groping through shadows searching for light.

Sometimes the act of breathing is a triumph in itself.

(“The greatest glory in living is(n’t) never failing, but rising every time we fail.” — Nelson Mandela)

After a lifetime on the Inside I have found myself. I know my purpose in this world and I live it each day. The adversities I have faced, the traumas I’ve overcome, and each dream that has crashed and burned has molded me anew. I arise from ash and dust every day.

Nelson Mandela was an angry youth when he was cast away to prison. Over 27 years of imprisonment he arrived at the same conclusions I have: There is no room for anger; only love defeats hatred, and hope illuminates darkness. To adopt these principles is to move the world for when you hate, hate finds you but when you love, love comes to us. Mandela exemplified these truths.

No one is infallible. No matter what a man or woman has done we are still part of the same family the human family. We are redeemable. However, we must first be willing to lower the sword of personal bias and judgement in order to see this.

(“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” — Oscar Wilde)

I never dwell on the past. I choose to pursue a new life, one based on core values of community, faith, family, integrity, honesty, and transparency. I credit the titans — Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Oscar Wilde — for having had courage to write about their experience. Through their works I find strength, purpose and direction.

In prison we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist, and Stillwater Award Recipient. His newest book ‘Christopher and Friends: Reflections From Behind the Wall’ (ISBN: 979-8262373062) is available on Amazon.

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Hope & Joy At Prison Fest

By Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn Harmony Project, In This World, OH Director of Prisons, Pivotal Moments, Rehabilitation, Women Behind Bars2 Comments

“What does the sunflower on your shirt represent to you?” Says the WBNS 10 TV anchor. I’ve watched her on television for years but never imagined I’d be at a women’s prison being interviewed by her.

“It represents hope to me,” I say. “It represents a new beginning.”

I’m a Harmony Project choir singer at Madison Correctional Institution (MaCI). Today is June 02, 2026 and I’m at the 4th annual Sunflower Arts & Music Festival at the Ohio Reformatory for Women (ORW).

The festival is sponsored by Harmony and brings together three Ohio prisons MaCI, ORW and Pickaway Correctional (PCI). Columbus, Ohio based Harmony works within prisons and the Columbus community spreading a message of hope and unity through contemporary music.

“Where you are does not define who you are,” David Brown tells us. Brown is founder and director of Harmony and this refrain underpins Harmony’s prison arts program.

I’ve been a Harmony choir singer four years running. Today is my fourth time attending the festival and fourth time I’ll have presented a spoken word to the thousands in attendance.

I am filled with feelings of hope, joy, and unselfish love. The crowd is like family to me. My message today is designed to lift others and offer hope to those who have forgotten what hope feels like.

Before the day is over I’ll have spoken to the outgoing Ohio Director of Prisons Ms. Annette Chambers-Smith; the founder of Papa John’s Pizza; the CEO of Papa John’s Pizza; and the wardens of ORW and MaCI.

In the morning we gather in the ORW gymnasium along with PCI and ORW choirs. In attendance are dozens of important guests –from ODRC correctional leadership, to Harmony donors — all of whom make the day possible.

“Do you think we’ll get to see the children of Sunflower House?” I say, to my friend Corey.

“I hope so,” he says as we take seats at chairs on the gym floor.

Harmony has a longstanding relationship with the children’s Sunflower Hospice in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Last year we sang to them by video link and the children sang to us. It’s a moment that’s joyful and heavy for many of us.

In the morning the men’s choirs sing ‘Good News’ by Shaboozey and ‘Amen’ by Shaboozey and Jelly Roll to the guests and ORW choir. The ORW women sing an amazing rendition of the 70’s disco classic ‘Dancing Queen’. By the time they finish many of us are wiping away tears from our eyes.

We watch a prerecorded video from the children of Sunflower House singing and dancing for us. I can’t help but think of how there’s so much light in our world of shadows.

In the afternoon we assemble on the prison yard for a lawn concert rocking the crowd. All three choirs together sing several songs for the massive crowd. When we’re not singing several Ohio bands perform for us, cover songs the crowd knows by heart.

It is time for me to present my spoken word.

I stand upon the huge concert stage, mic in hand, big screen at my back and I look out upon the crowd. Cheerful voices reach me and waiving hands draw my attention. I can’t help but know, as every incarcerated person does, that there is a lot of trauma, longing, and sadness beneath many faces in the crowd.

My spoken word is for the outside guests in attendance who know not our struggles as incarcerated people — and for the crowd. Except, for us my message is one of hope that says, no matter who you are or what you are going through you are going to be okay. WE are going to be okay.

Shortly afterward it is time to go. The day has come to an end and we depart.

I peer through the steel mesh of the prison bus window and take in the passing countryside. I feel peace and contentment. My thoughts are on the many people I leave behind today.

For four years I have experienced this return ride back to my prison. I grow a little inside each time, but I heal more than anything.

*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

I Would Go Back & Meet Eve By Christopher

On By ChristopherIn Angels, In This World, Pivotal Moments, RehabilitationLeave a comment


“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I’m a little nervous,” says Clayton.

Clayton is a handsome young man and one of our guests tonight. I feel his nervousness when we shake hands. He is here for Kindway Embark’s monthly navigators gathering. This is Clayton’s first time stepping foot into a prison.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I say, hoping to set him at ease. “You’re in for a treat tonight!”

In truth, in this moment, I feel a tinge of sadness and shame. Sad because another human being harbors fears about who I am being an incarcerated person; and, shame for having subjected another person to the consequences of my past actions.

The public harbors stereotypes about incarcerated people, stereotypes perpetrated by Hollywood movies and  popular crime shows. Reality couldn’t be further from the truth. We are people who made very poor decisions in our pasts. We are brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. We laugh and cry, hope and believe like anyone else.

We are, to put it simply, just people.

“Movies like Shawshank Redemption and popular crime shows perpetuate stereotypes about who we are,” I say, to Clayton and the other men sitting at my table – Ron, Joseph, and Miguel.

Joseph and Miguel nod knowingly.

I am engaged with numerous Columbus, Ohio based organizations dedicated to helping incarcerated people and restored citizens. These organizations exist on donations, some federal grant funding, and prayer — a lot of prayer. Kindway Embark is one of these organizations.

Tonight’s gathering is sponsored by Kindway Embark. It is part of a year long hands on mentorship aiming to grow strong Christian brothers and sisters through intense pre-release preparation. The focus is on faith based reentry success.

Tonight we are celebrating our faith. For a couple of hours we discover one another through social interaction centered around conversation, food, group games, testimony and prayer.

“Okay! Game time!” says the emcee. “We are going to play the game of ‘Would You Rather,'”–everyone erupts in laughter–” except this is the Christian version! “

“First question: Would you rather witness the Red Sea parting or Jesus walking on water?”

Immediately the room fills with animated chatter as dozens of outside guests and Kindway Embark participants discuss answers.

“I’d want to see Jesus as he walks on water,” says Clayton.
“Yeah, me too,” says Miguel.
“Yeah, I agree,” says Ron.

I find myself in the minority and second guessing my choice.
“I’d want to witness the parting of the Red Sea,” I say.
“You wouldn’t want to see Jesus walking on water?” says Miguel.

“Uh, well — yeah I would, but I think I’d like to witness the Red Sea parting that would be astounding.” I suddenly feel sheepish.

After a couple of other ‘Would You Rather’ questions my table erupts into a game of its own.

I say: “Okay, how about this; if you could go back in time and meet any one human — and not Jesus, that’s a given — who would it be?”

Someone mentions wanting to meet Abraham. Someone else mentions wanting to meet one of the biblical kings.

“I would go back in time to meet Eve,” I say. The whole table is suddenly intently focused upon my words. “I would go back to meet Eve in the moment where she reaches for the apple on the tree. I would stop her.”

“Oh, right,” says Clayton, “that’s noble!”
The others utter similar thoughts.

“She has no idea the pain and suffering she unleashed upon the world.”

There’s a brief moment of heavy gravity at the table. I break the moment by changing subjects. I talk about my 31 year journey incarcerated and how in many ways it has revealed blessings in disguise. Miguel and Joseph eagerly add in their incarceration experience.

The night wraps up with a group prayer. We form a large circle and hold hands as one individual leads the prayer.

With my head bowed and my eyes closed I think of all the Kindway Embark volunteers some of whom are restored citizens themselves. I think of tonight’s guests and I thank God for each of them: Robin, Heidi, Pat, Clayton, Tim, Preston, “Wally”, Juan, Ryan, Jeremy, Dennis, Marcus, Drennan, Mike, Emil, Randy, Ron #2, and Vance.

I have a moment of panic as I try to remember if I’m missing anyone, but I leave it to God.

Reflecting back upon the evening I feel immense gratitude. I can see the future one where I am free in a new life with my Kindway Embark brothers and sisters. Tonight I caught a glimpse of the very people that I know will be a part of it and I am grateful.

Amen.

*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

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