2 generations split by incarceration say sentencing should consider those left behind

From left, Amanda Hall, Jayden Spence and Cortney Downs testified Sept. 19 before an interim legislative committee in Frankfort. (Screenshot).

When Jayden Spence was 5 years old, he watched police take his mother, Amanda Hall, away in handcuffs. 

The experience “terrified” him, he told Kentucky lawmakers. It also left him a lingering “mistrust” of the justice system. 

Spence and Hall lent their stories to the Interim Joint Committee on Judiciary Thursday and asked members to pass legislation in 2025 that would allow judges to order community supervision rather than prison based on the person’s caregiving status.

Cortney Downs, chief equity officer for Kentucky Youth Advocates, said there were more than 115,000 youths in the state from 2021-2022 who reported having a parent incarcerated at some point in their lives. 

Parental incarceration is considered an adverse childhood experience (ACE) that can have far-reaching negative effects on a person’s development and life. It can also lead to foster care, housing disruption and financial hardships, among other things, Downs said. 

“We often hear that parental incarceration (can) be described as a shared sentence, mainly because of the pretty substantial effect that it has on kids and then also the … family members … who step in to also care for those kids,” she told lawmakers. 

Having a parent behind bars can also “weaken the bond” between parent and child, Downs said. In some cases, it can “derail” that relationship entirely. 

“Ultimately, we do understand that we need to hold people accountable for their actions,” Downs said. “But there’s an equally important need for us to find a balance between applying consequences that really do match the actions, and then also considering the impact that it has on their kids.”  

Hall and Spence 

When Spence watched his mother being arrested, it continued a cycle that went back to Hall’s own childhood trauma. 

Hall was in second grade when her mother, whom she said was a survivor of domestic violence, was arrested.

“I vividly remember going to school the next day … and seeing the newspaper on my teacher’s desk and that had a description of my mom’s arrest,” said Hall, who lives in Louisa. “I got an overwhelming sense of shame, and that feeling stayed with me for years, along with a lot of anger.” 

Her mental health deteriorated after that, she said, as well as her trust in authority. 

“I started experimenting with drugs, and after being prescribed opioids, I became fully addicted,” Hall said. “Then my arrest followed, and things kept spiraling downward.” 

While incarcerated, she said, she missed her daughter’s first steps and first words and her son’s kindergarten graduation. 

“It was devastating,” she said. “I hated myself for what I had done to them, and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t change.” 

She got treatment upon her release and was reunited with her children, though “that incarceration haunts me.” 

Spence, a sophomore at Morehead State University, said Hall’s incarceration when he was a child “completely disrupted” his routine and left him with “anger,” “sadness” and a “deep sense of longing.” 

“I loved my mom, and I just wanted her to come home so we could be together,” he said. He also missed the chance to live with his little brother and be a big brother to him. 

“This experience has left a lasting impact on me. It shaped how I view the justice system. I have a deep mistrust of it, and a mistrust that only grew stronger after I saw how hard it was to rebuild her life, to be judged for her past,” he said. “Every time she was told ‘no’ because of her convictions, every negative comment said about her, I felt that too.”  

Hall lives in fear, she said, of the future. 

“I want that cycle to end with me,” Hall said. “And so far, I think it will. But that fear remains.” 

What could a Kentucky law on this look like? 

Joey Comley, the Kentucky and Tennessee state director for Right On Crime, said other states — Missouri, Illinois, Massachusetts, California, Oregon, Washington and Tennessee — have passed “caregiver mitigation and diversion programs.” 

Those programs let judges consider at sentencing if a person is a primary caregiver and waive incarceration in favor of community supervision and potentially treatment if it is needed, such as substance abuse treatment, physical or sexual abuse counseling, vocational or educational services, anger management, parenting classes and family counseling. 

Exceptions to the waiver could include people who committed violent offenses, sex offenses, serious offenses and offenses involving the use of a firearm, he said. 

Kentucky could also save a lot of money with such legislation, Comley said. 

“If Kentucky were to implement some form of caregiver consideration legislation, it stands to save this Commonwealth almost $64,000 per eligible parent who is essentially subject to community enforcement as opposed to incarceration,” he said. That figure includes foster care and incarceration expenses. 

There is, Comely said, “ample opportunity for legislation in a space to save money, to preserve the family unit and to do what is best for these parents, these children and the community.”