
Sandra Stephens and inmates, from left, Johnathan Ochoa, Daryl Watson, William Corey Johnson and Thomas Sanchez participate in a group discussion in November at Kyle Correctional Center. Stephens became a Bridges to Life volunteer after being the victim of a crime that left her disabled.
FREEDOM IN HEALING
Sandra Stephens, 45, was left disabled after her purse was stolen in October 2003. During her struggle to retrieve the bag outside of an H-E-B grocery store in South Austin, her sleeve got caught in the passenger side door of the robber’s getaway car.
According to a police report, she was dragged about 15 feet before the man opened the door. Stephens was thrown backward with such force that it caused her brain to hemorrhage, she said.
Before the crime, she had worked as an award-winning artist for National Instruments. After the incident, her right arm was broken, and she couldn’t work. Pre-existing health conditions, which caused partial blindness, worsened. Stephens was bitter and suicidal for months, she said.
“It was like being in a cave all the time,” she said, “even when you’re outdoors.”
The darkness began to lift when she became a volunteer for Bridges To Life, a faith-based restorative justice program that facilitates face-to-face meetings between victims of violent crimes and offenders. It operates in more than 20 prisons in the state, including three in Central Texas .
The program was started a decade ago by John Sage, whose sister was stabbed to death in 1993. Even after her two killers were sentenced to death, he found it difficult to reconcile his feelings about the crime. So, Sage created Bridges To Life to address similar unresolved feelings in others.
The 14-week program accepts applications from volunteers who want to participate. Crime victims and prisoners — all referred to as volunteers — meet once a week for 2 1/2 hours, said Deborah Hartman, a regional coordinator for the program, at prisons such as the Travis County State Jail, the Kyle Correctional Center and the Lockhart men’s and women’s units.

Sandra Stephens tells a group of inmates participating in the Bridges to Life program how a purse-snatching devastated her life.
Each week, a victim of a different crime speaks to a large group of volunteers, Hartman said. Afterward, in groups of up to 10 people, offenders talk about crimes they’ve committed. All volunteers work on exercises in the Restoring the Peace workbook. One exercise, for example, asks offenders to write letters to someone they need to forgive and someone from whom they believe they need forgiveness.
The goal is to connect communities to prisons, reduce the likelihood that offenders will return to prison and enhance public safety, Hartman said.
Bridges to Life was a transformative experience for Daryl Watson, he said. Watson, now 25, stole a man’s pickup in Troy, near Temple, in 2002, he said. When the man tried to get to the truck, his arm got stuck temporarily on the body of the vehicle, unbeknownst to Watson, he said. He found out later that the man was left needing a wheelchair.
Watson drove the black Chevy Silverado all the way to Gulfport Miss., where he was arrested a few days after stealing the truck. He was charged with robbery and sentenced to five years.
The first time Watson went to Bridges to Life, he said, he heard Stephens tell her story.
“The shock of it made me want to quit that first day,” Watson said. He couldn’t believe that she had been through what he said he put another man through. They became friends, in a way, as Stephens and Watson shared Bible verses. Watson wrote a letter asking for forgiveness from the man whose pickup he had stolen, and he forgave his father in a letter that helped Watson identify a source of his need to hurt others, he said.
“Forgiveness is about your own personal freedom,” Stephens said. “But it’s also a freedom from the shame associated with being a victim.”
Five years later, no suspects have been identified in connection with the crime that marred Stephens’ life, but she says the program has given her purpose.
It has also helped Watson, who was released from the Kyle Correctional Center this month .
“I don’t have any fear of what it’s going to be like because I’m different now,” Watson said. “Because of Bridges to Life, I realize if you do something wrong, there’s a victim in it no matter what it is, and I don’t want any more victims.”
joshundasanders@statesman.com