Meet JaCari

Before incarceration, life was going well. I worked in nursing and provided home care. I was raising my five children and felt secure in a good marriage. I had dreams of becoming a registered nurse, owning a home, and providing my kids with every opportunity. My oldest son, who graduated from high school at the age of 16, had a bright future ahead. I pictured him joining a fraternity, perhaps pursuing a career in football or engineering. I’d also been to school for criminal justice and cosmetology. I had high hopes, not just for my children, but for myself too.

When I moved to Birmingham from another state, I came to buy a house. But that fell through because the sellers didn’t even own the property. The only place I could find was in the Collegeville projects, a place I knew nothing about until I was already there. Life there was hard. I tried to advocate for myself and my neighbors. When my fridge and stove went out, the office wanted to charge me $500 to replace them. I pushed back and got the staff fired. After that, the staff didn’t like me.

They began targeting me. While others had dogs, they told me mine was too big and threatened to evict me. I rehomed my first dog, but eventually got another from a local breeder. When that dog got pregnant and went missing, she returned not pregnant anymore. I asked my kids to follow her to find the puppies, and they said she was at a nearby house, but the man there refused to let them see the puppies.

I waited until the next day and went over, expecting to talk to the woman of the house. When she answered the door, I asked about my dog. She said, “Yes, they’re here,” then immediately changed her story and claimed they were hers. I had proof they were mine, including pictures, and the mother dog was still visiting my home on a daily basis. When she refused to return them, I said something out of frustration: “I hope you know how to bottle-feed, because I’m not bringing the mom back.” I turned to walk away, and that’s when I heard gunshots.

I thought I’d been shot. I hit the ground, keys and phone flying. But I wasn’t injured. I scrambled to get my things and got into the car. I drove off, shaken and unsure of what had just happened. In that neighborhood, gunshots were common.

That night, while taking my daughter to work, I noticed a cop car nearby. I thought nothing of it until they got on the bullhorn and told me to stop. I pulled over, threw out my keys, and complied. Without explaining anything, they handcuffed me and my daughter and took us downtown.

At the station, they separated us. One officer slammed me against a car and accused my son of withholding information about a prior break-in at our home. Then he said, “Your charge is robbery.” I was stunned—robbery? I hadn’t taken anything. I had no idea what they were talking about.

They booked me and threw me in jail. The following two weeks were the worst of my life. They ripped my clothes off, gave me no blanket or clothes until the next shift. I cried all night. I didn’t get my medication, even though my daughter brought it. I ended up in the emergency room from the pain. One of the meds they gave me caused constipation and more suffering.

I had never been in trouble before—not even a speeding ticket. So why would I wait until I was 40 to rob someone for a dog? It made no sense. But there I was, arrested, and thrown into a system that didn't care about the facts.

And then one day, someone said there was a person downstairs counting money for my bail. I broke down. God had heard me.

My bail was $60,000. Without Faith & Works, I’d still be waiting on a 2025 court date. They got me out on Christmas Day, 2021. But I’d already lost everything: my job, my home, and my peace of mind.

JaCari (left) and Cara (right) of Faith & Works.

When I got out, I needed all kinds of support. I needed someone to believe I didn't do this. 

Since getting out, life has remained challenging. I live in a trailer that’s falling apart. Yes, I own it, but it hasn’t been winterized, the floors are damaged, and I’ve had to fix everything myself. My house had caught fire, and the trailer was the only affordable option available at the time, costing $400 a month. I live off my son's Social Security check. The lights were just turned off the other day. I’m unable to work due to my back, and because of my record, no one will hire me. 

And then there’s the emotional part. Being away from my kids was the worst. Hearing their voices on the other end of the phone, crying. My oldest daughter had to step up and take care of the others. She had to drop them off at school and then go to work. My oldest son, who had his legal troubles, stayed back to help from a distance. It was just so hard on all of us.

I want my kids to grow up in a world where they don’t have to work for minimum wage to scrape by. A world without drugs and violence. A world where they can wear whatever shoes they want and not be judged for it. I want them to live in a safe community and have families of their own, and not go through what I’ve been through.

JaCari’s three youngest children waiting for her to be bailed out on Christmas Day.

Faith & Works didn’t just bail me out—they helped me get my case dismissed. They’ve paid utility bills when I had nothing left. They believed me when no one else did.

I don’t want to be remembered as the woman who committed a felony. I want people to remember that even when you're innocent, you can get locked up. But if you keep your faith and know that God is with you, anything is possible. I’m still surviving. I’m still here.