Among the personal archives of Sister Helen Prejean housed in DePaul’s John T. Richardson Library is an essay from the late Robert Lee Willie reading, “I will die in prison without question, so those of you who have knowledge and ability to exist outside these confines need ponder what is to be done out there.”

Prejean has dedicated her life to that Vincentian question. She told The DePaulia that the art of storytelling must be done as an essential part of reinforcing the human dignity of prisoners in America. 

“What this panel is doing tonight is allowing people to voice their own stories, people often invisible,” she said. 

On Thursday, April 27, Prejean spoke on a panel with leaders from the Illinois Prison Project, Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, The Visiting Room Project and Youth Empowerment Performance Project for a conversation about untold stories and ending invisibility. 

“There’s a saying in Latin America that what the eye doesn’t see the heart can’t feel,” Prejean said.

This is why many people remain indifferent to the dire need for prison and death penalty reform, she says.

While living and working with the poor at New Orleans St. Thomas Housing Project, Prejean began corresponding and ministering to Patrick Sonnier, an inmate on Louisiana’s death row. After witnessing his execution in 1984, Prejean was moved to write her first book “Dead Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in the United States,” which was made into the Academy Award-winning film of the same name. 

“I was one of the few people who got to witness an execution,” Prejean said. “It’s a semi-secret ritual, but 1,500 people in this country have been gassed, shot, lethally injected and electrocuted, and nobody’s seen it since we put the death penalty back in 1976.”

Prejean’s experience ministering to inmates on death row and viewing their executions prompted her to write her first book, “Dead Man Walking,” which she handed out and signed for attendees at Thursday’s event. 

Prejean said she has a moral obligation to amplify the narratives of inmates whose voices are silenced. Not only do stories have the power to shape public opinion, she said, but they make the most vulnerable feel like humans again.  

Panelist Sophie Cull of The Visiting Room Project shared the story of a man named Lawrence who was sentenced to life in prison without parole at age 15.  

Encounters with inmates in Angola prison prompted Cull to start The Visiting Room Project, which has compiled the largest collection of firsthand stories of people serving life sentences. 

“The prosecutors seeking death against him wore neckties to his trial that had the Grim Reaper and a noose on them,” Cull said. “He was sentenced by a jury who understood very little about the life of a young Black child growing up in the South.”

Despite the frustrating circumstances that led to Lawrence’s conviction and sentencing, Cull fondly recalls having informal conversations with him and getting to know his values, feelings and memories. 

“I really wish people had a chance to see what it was like to just sit in a visiting room with him at Angola and spend an hour sharing and listening and seeing the way his face lit up when he talked about his grandmother and the memories of her that were still so visceral,” Cull said.

“When we have a chance to see everyday life in other people, we recognize it in ourselves,” Cull said to the crowd. “That is an empathic encounter that has the power to restore us to each other in a way that only sharing life can.”

The panel agreed that personal narratives help distinguish people from their actions.

“If you get a chance to meet me, you will find that I’m more than my worst decision, and while I can be responsible for an act, I am not that act,” said panelist Renaldo Hudson, director of education at the Illinois Prison Project.

Hudson served 37 years in the Illinois corrections system, 13 of which he spent on death row until Prejean spoke up for his release. 

“Through storytelling, we begin to understand that humans are humans, no matter if they make a mistake or not,” said Eleanor Olin, adjunct professor at DePaul’s School of Music who attended the event. “We’ve all made mistakes, but we understand that the mistake doesn’t define the person.”

Hudson said forgiveness did not seem possible until he resolved to forgive himself. 

“I’m the person responsible for the death of [a] man, and I live with that shame,” he said. “But I’m equally responsible for deciding that I’m so much better than that and I can live the rest of my life as an advocate.”

Hudson and Prejean have had traumatic experiences in and out of the corrections system, yet as panelists sitting next to each other on the third floor of DePaul’s Student Center, they freely laughed and bantered, bonding over their faith in God and the goodness of humanity. 

“I have a testimony that despite my worst decision, I’m here, because I chose to believe in God’s grace,” Hudson said. 

Thursday’s event was well attended by DePaul students and faculty, many of whom were eager to speak to the panelists during a Q&A session.

However, some attendants were content to listen to the stories and learn from the panelists’ wisdom. 

“I find myself in a bubble,” DePaul senior Ivonne Sanchez said. “I don’t know anybody who’s incarcerated, and I don’t know people who know someone incarcerated. I feel very distant, but there’s more that I can do by learning about people’s stories.”

Prejean said that she, too, was in a bubble until she began corresponding with inmates and understanding that even guilty people have innate dignity. She said that being pro-life means having a consistent life ethic for a guilty and innocent life.

“People need to hear someone who’s guilty saying ‘I’m sorry. Give me a chance to show you the best of us. We can be so much better,’” Hudson said. “That is the testament of the Gospel.”

Moderator Jesse Chang, associate professor in the College of Law, asked the panelists what gives them hope to continue sharing stories and leading the charge for restorative justice. 

“What keeps me going is a man who sits in a cell and has been on death row [for] 30 years,” Prejean said. 

She referred to Manuel Ortiz in Louisiana and Richard Glossip in Oklahoma who she believes are innocent and suffering needlessly at the hands of a broken justice system.

“Richard Glossip has been [on] death row in Oklahoma [for] 26 years,” Prejean said. “The appeals court turned him down twice, and just yesterday, the clemency board turned him down. He’s in the whitewater rapids heading toward the execution chamber in Oklahoma.”

She questioned how inmates and advocates like herself do not succumb to the challenges and injustices they face daily. The tenacity of Glossip and Ortiz push her to keep fighting. 

“It is about the Gospel of encounter,” Prejean said. “I’ve met some brave people, and I better be brave. I better be out there. I can’t not do it.”

Hudson said he loves Prejean and is grateful for how she uses her voice to help the voiceless. He cherishes his freedom and now finds motivation in helping others understand that they are not defined by their mistakes. 

“I’m hopeful because I was sitting in a death row cell guilty,” he said. “I walked out and I didn’t compromise my integrity. I surrendered my heart instead.”

Much of Prejean’s motivation surrounds the legacy of St. Vincent de Paul because there is still much work to be done for justice. 

“His question, which is our question of ‘what needs to be done, and what can I do?’ has fed my advocacy,” Prejean said. “It is why I’m here and why I give talks around the country, especially aimed at young people because you’re our hope.”