Author Judy A. Henderson on Surviving a Life Sentence, Finding Faith in Prison, and the Fight for Justice Reform
“I refused to put my hand on the Bible and lie, which meant I couldn’t testify, couldn’t defend myself, couldn’t tell the truth.”
I had the pleasure of talking with Judy Henderson. Judy Henderson’s life has followed a path shaped by tragedy, survival, and transformation. Born the eldest of nine children in a strict Pentecostal household, she grew up under the watchful eye of religious discipline and cultural conservatism. Long dresses, covered earlobes, and late permission to date framed her adolescence. But beneath the outward order, her youth was shadowed by trauma — most notably the sexual abuse she endured at the hands of an assistant pastor during her final year of high school. That incident began what would become a lifelong reckoning with faith, justice, and personal autonomy.
At 18, Henderson married the man who would become the father of her two children. What began with hopes of family and stability turned into 12 years of domestic abuse, a period she later recognized as foundational to her vulnerability in subsequent relationships. After separating from her husband, she sought a fresh start, relocating to be near her parents and briefly experiencing a sense of renewal. Within months, she purchased a business, began dating again, and looked ahead to a better life. But another abusive relationship — this one more insidious — led to a tragedy that would upend her life entirely.
In 1982, Henderson was convicted of capital murder in a case tied to her then-boyfriend’s criminal activities. He was acquitted at trial; she was sentenced to life in prison without parole. At 32 years old, Henderson entered the Missouri prison system with no prior history of criminal behavior and little understanding of the legal process that had condemned her. She and her co-defendant had shared a defense attorney, a conflict of interest that undermined her ability to testify in her own defense. When asked to fabricate an alibi, Henderson refused — guided by a religious conviction she had struggled to reconcile for years. That decision sealed her fate.
She would spend the next 36 years in prison.
What followed was not just the passage of time, but a metamorphosis. Angry and disoriented at first, Henderson turned inward to confront her past. Therapy sessions and support groups — particularly those for survivors of domestic abuse — helped her understand the patterns of trauma that had shaped her decisions. She came to recognize herself as a battered woman, a term she had not known before incarceration. It was the beginning of a long journey toward self-awareness and advocacy.
Henderson’s time in prison became a platform for reform, education, and leadership. She became a certified paralegal, educated herself on the legal system that had failed her, and began to fight from within. Her efforts were wide-ranging: she co-founded the Better Living Awareness Support Team, a fitness and wellness initiative that empowered incarcerated women to rebuild their physical and emotional health; she helped launch the 4-H LIFE program, which secured federal funding to strengthen bonds between incarcerated parents and their children through regular, meaningful visits; and she worked closely with lawmakers to pass legislation, including one that officially recognized battered woman syndrome as a legal defense in Missouri.
She was also part of a landmark in-prison judicial hearing, testifying before legislators about the legal challenges faced by abused women. Her work helped shift policy and gave voice to others whose stories echoed her own. Over the decades, Henderson became known not only for her resilience but for her belief in the redemptive potential of every individual — especially those whom society had deemed beyond saving.
Her eventual release came in 2017 through the clemency of then-Governor Eric Greitens, who made history as the first Missouri governor to personally visit a prison to deliver news of a commutation. The visit was unannounced; Henderson had been teaching a fitness class when she was summoned. Six months later, she received a full pardon, officially exonerating her.
Now in her seventies and living near her family in Missouri, Henderson works for Catholic Charities and remains an active advocate for criminal justice reform. Her efforts focus on systemic issues — such as overpopulation in prisons, the lack of rehabilitative programming, and the political barriers that often prevent clemency for those wrongfully convicted. She regularly speaks at the Missouri State Capitol and other venues, pushing for policy change and supporting others reentering society after incarceration.
Her memoir, When the Light Finds Us: From a Life Sentence to a Life Transformed, written with journalist Jimmy Soni and published by Worthy Books, chronicles her life from childhood through her years behind bars and into the present. The book offers a detailed account of her wrongful conviction, her spiritual journey, and her work with incarcerated women and families. Its title underscores her central message: that light — whether in the form of faith, healing, or justice — can find even those in the darkest circumstances.
For Henderson, the memoir is not only a personal reflection but also a call to action. As the United States continues to grapple with the legacy of mass incarceration, her story offers a stark reminder of the human cost of wrongful convictions and a powerful testament to the capacity for growth, even within a system that so often denies it.
She had once planned to live a quiet life after prison, surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. But her story — marked by loss, perseverance, and ultimately, transformation — refused to remain in the background. Today, Henderson stands not only as a survivor of injustice but as a voice for those still silenced by it.
Yitzi: Judy, it’s a delight and an honor to meet you. Before we dive in deep, our readers would love to learn about your personal origin story. Can you share a story of your childhood and how you grew up?
Judy: Thank you for having me. I’ve truly been looking forward to this conversation.
I’m the oldest of nine children — eight biological siblings plus a stepsister. We grew up in a large family with a strict Pentecostal upbringing. We had to wear long dresses, keep our earlobes covered — it was a very confined lifestyle.
This strict environment shaped everything, including relationships. I wasn’t even allowed to date until I turned 18, which is when I married the father of my children. When I finally left him years later, my children were 13 and 3.
During those formative years, my faith was severely tested. In my senior year of high school, an assistant pastor molested me, which deeply tarnished my belief in religion and in God. Though I drifted away spiritually for a time, I eventually found my way back. Through everything, I’ve come to recognize that God has had His hand on me, even in the darkest times.
This darkness extended into my marriage, which lasted 12 difficult years in an abusive relationship. When I finally summoned the courage to leave, I believed life would improve — but fate had other plans. The window between my divorce and the tragedy that would completely transform my life was painfully brief — only about nine months. That newfound freedom didn’t last long.
Yet here I am today by God’s grace — alive, loving life, and helping others through my work. The journey between then and now has taught me that our hardest moments don’t define our future.
Perhaps the most valuable lesson I’ve learned is that no dark place is permanent. What matters is understanding how you got there, growing from the experience, and channeling your anger not into bitterness but into positive energy — fuel for rising to higher ground.
Yitzi: Beautiful. Can you tell us a bit about your goal in writing the book and what you hope to accomplish with it?
Judy: I’m writing this book to offer hope and inspiration to others facing seemingly impossible circumstances. My story is ultimately about faith, resilience, and transformation — how light can find us even in our darkest moments. If my journey can help someone navigate their own difficult path, then sharing these painful experiences becomes worthwhile.
I don’t want to reveal everything in the book — there are some surprises worth preserving, including a few incredible miracles. I sometimes feel like the cat with nine lives, and I truly believe God is still in the miracle-working business today. He performed numerous miracles in my life that I didn’t even recognize at the time.
My journey took a significant turn after my divorce. I moved closer to my parents following a 30-day stay in a psychiatric ward. I couldn’t escape my abuser, and professionals recommended I leave the city where I had been living with my children. We relocated that fall, and by February, I had purchased a business and was making progress.
That April, my life changed again when I began dating a man with a background in real estate and ministry. He seemed like Prince Charming — the one who would give me that little white house with the picket fence and the happily-ever-after I longed for. Reality proved far different.
I was exceptionally vulnerable then, having never addressed my history of abuse. I didn’t even know the term “battered woman” existed. The patterns from my marriage continued — I avoided asking questions, as I’d learned this often led to violence. I remained passive.
Even my mother and stepfather approved of him. He presented himself as kind and quiet, completely concealing his darker side. Eventually, I witnessed this hidden aspect of him — his involvement in criminal activity with others — which ultimately led to my wrongful murder conviction.
I served 36 years while he was acquitted of all charges, never spending a single day in prison. My family had no experience with the criminal justice system, leaving us unprepared to navigate it effectively. My co-defendant and I shared the same attorney — a serious constitutional conflict of interest.
This attorney was privy to both our strategies, leaving us with only mitigating circumstances as a defense. I couldn’t implicate my co-defendant without harming the attorney’s other client. I was unable to testify unless I was willing to lie — the attorney even suggested my mother provide a false alibi claiming we were shopping.
My faith wouldn’t allow me to perjure myself. I refused to put my hand on the Bible and lie, which meant I couldn’t testify, couldn’t defend myself, couldn’t tell the truth.
I received a capital murder conviction, carrying either life without parole for 50 years or the death penalty. Had I received the latter, I would have been executed after about 20 years. I wouldn’t be here today.
Through it all, God’s hand guided me. Remarkably, I discovered blessings during this journey — lessons I likely couldn’t have learned any other way.
Some people learn life’s lessons easily; others take a harder path. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re on that difficult road until everything suddenly collapses around you.
I never imagined being separated from my children. I was deeply devoted to them — my daughter was involved in dance, acrobatics, ballet, gymnastics; we were always active together. And my son was just three when I was sent to prison.
Yitzi: Wow. So can you share with us the story of how you were eventually found to be innocent? What changed?
Judy: My path to freedom was neither quick nor straightforward.
When I first entered prison, I was consumed with anger and bitterness — especially toward God. I couldn’t understand why He, with all His power to instantly change my circumstances, allowed this injustice to continue. I held Him responsible for the unfair turns my life had taken.
Eventually, I had to confront myself with a crucial question: how did I end up here? This situation was entirely foreign to my family background — we had no history with the legal system. I began therapy to understand what had gone wrong in my life.
A pivotal moment came when someone invited me to a battered women’s group. Attending that group led to a profound realization — I was a battered woman. This wasn’t something I had recognized before. In those days, domestic violence remained hidden; family disturbances stayed behind closed doors, unspoken and unaddressed.
I continued with therapy while managing my anger. I recognized I faced a fundamental choice: let this anger corrode me with bitterness or transform it into motivation for positive change. I chose the latter path. I promised myself that if the Department of Corrections intended to keep me, they would invest in my development. I seized every educational opportunity — college classes, training programs, anything they offered.
I became a certified paralegal to understand the legal mechanisms that had placed me there. I wasn’t guilty of murder, and I refused to passively serve time without fighting for my freedom. My children and family never stopped believing in me, and I couldn’t let them down.
For 36 years, I fought relentlessly until I finally received a full pardon and exoneration from the governor. This battle taught me about the political complexities involved. When governors consider releasing someone serving a life sentence, they must weigh that decision against potential political consequences.
The Willie Horton case demonstrated how one release decision could derail a presidential campaign, as it did for Governor Dukakis. I understood these risks but believed governors had a responsibility to thoroughly investigate clemency requests — to examine evidence and determine if claims had merit. That’s precisely why they maintain legal teams.
Unfortunately, few governors demonstrate this willingness. I was fortunate to find one who did — Governor Eric Greitens. He made Missouri history by personally visiting the prison — an unprecedented act for a state governor.
His visit came as a complete surprise. I was teaching a fitness class when they summoned me to the visiting room. Initially, I refused, assuming my attorney wouldn’t arrive unannounced, denying me time to prepare my appearance. Even in prison, I maintained personal standards.
I strived to preserve my identity throughout my incarceration. Each morning, I practiced self-care, maintained my appearance, and ate as nutritiously as possible within the constraints of prison meals — though beans three times daily wasn’t ideal. Fresh fruit was scarce.
Exercise became my domain of control. I helped establish a prison fitness program called Better Living Awareness Support Team. We received outside certification, creating a genuine career path for post-release life.
I dedicated over 20 years to this program, motivated by the broken women I encountered. Their bodies reflected the damage from substance abuse and physical mistreatment. Many couldn’t recognize their own worth or beauty.
I wanted to help them see their value — to work on themselves physically, mentally, and spiritually. By program completion, many no longer wanted to return to harmful patterns. They were unwilling to sacrifice their hard-won progress.
Another heartbreaking revelation was how many women lacked basic maternal knowledge. This generational pattern affected both men’s and women’s facilities — I watched as family members followed relatives into incarceration, perpetuating cycles of imprisonment.
This observation convinced me that corrections needed to address entire family units — not just reconnect mothers with children, but facilitate comprehensive family healing. We created the 4-H LIFE program, securing federal funding to support it.
The program transformed visiting rooms into genuine family spaces. Families engaged in games, shared meals, prayed together, and participated in arts and crafts. These activities created opportunities to discover each other’s talents, witness each other in new contexts, and rebuild communication.
This was authentic healing — and it gave my imprisonment purpose.
Yitzi: Unbelievable. So from your vantage point — having been on the inside, but also now as a legal expert — can you share a few things you recommend to reform the criminal justice system? Some urgent recommendations?
Judy: My perspective on reform comes from both lived experience and legal understanding.
One of my proudest accomplishments was participating in a groundbreaking judicial hearing where legislators came inside the prison walls. This unprecedented forum allowed battered women to testify directly to senators and state representatives about the critical need for legal protections.
At that time, women who had suffered abuse and ultimately killed their abusers had no legal defense framework. Many received life sentences — with or without parole — and were separated from their families. Our testimony led to Missouri legally recognizing battered woman syndrome as a valid defense. This legislative victory marked a significant step forward.
My advocacy extended to other legislation as well. State representatives would visit me in the prison’s visiting room to discuss pending bills, and I helped identify sponsors. I continue this work today, regularly speaking at the Capitol with governors, senators, and representatives about legislation aimed at improving conditions for incarcerated individuals.
Prison overcrowding has been a persistent issue for decades. We need to critically examine our approach: Are we merely warehousing people rather than rehabilitating them? If rehabilitation is truly the goal, then we must establish clear criteria for when someone is considered rehabilitated.
When I first entered prison, officials told me, “We’re going to break you down and build you back up.” I remember thinking, “I’m already as broken as I can be. I don’t need breaking — I need help.” What I truly needed was counseling and healing.
Later in my sentence, I was among twelve lifers selected for a retreat called “Residents Encounter Christ.” Initially hesitant due to my lingering anger toward God, I discovered we had been chosen because lifers served as stabilizing influences within the prison community. Since this was our permanent home, we naturally sought peaceful conditions.
This retreat — the first of its kind within a prison — transformed my perspective. For three days, visitors filled with Christ’s love entered our space. They prepared meals for us, brought special items, showed extraordinary kindness — and then, in a profound gesture of humility, offered to wash our feet.
The experience was deeply moving. I remember thinking, “These people don’t know us. Society considers us the worst elements, yet here they are, showing this unconditional love.” Throughout those three days, I witnessed Christ’s love in action. I realized, “This is Jesus. This is God showing us He still loves us, that we were created with purpose.”
Through this experience and my years of incarceration, I developed a belief that God equips us at birth with all the tools needed for life’s journey. Our task is to discover these gifts and learn to use them according to His design.
My stepfather once shared wisdom that stayed with me: “Judy, stop asking God for more strength. He already gave it to you. You just need to tap into it. If you keep asking for more strength, you’re asking for more trials.” I quickly responded, “Oh no, I don’t want that!”
I found faith in the belief that I already possessed the necessary courage, patience, and resilience. Patience proved especially crucial — 36 years’ worth. Some moments were particularly difficult, especially when parole boards recommended my release only to have governors deny those recommendations.
The parole boards are tasked with investigating and determining readiness for societal return. Yet their professional assessments were repeatedly disregarded. I later discovered that three different parole boards had endorsed my release over the years.
Change finally came with Governor Eric Greitens. Less than a year into his term, he personally visited the prison to grant my immediate release — time served. Six months later, I received a full pardon, complete exoneration.
Yitzi: I could talk to you for so much longer, but I want to respect your time. How can our readers follow your work and how can they purchase your book?
Judy: You can visit my website — judyannhenderson.com — where the book is available for purchase along with additional resources about my story. The book is also available on Amazon. It’s currently available for pre-order and will be officially released on April 15th, which is very exciting.
When I first returned home, my plan was simple — to live quietly and enjoy time with my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. That was all I wanted. However, as people began hearing my story, they repeatedly encouraged me: “Judy, you have to write a book. People see their mothers, their sisters, themselves in your experience. You have too much wisdom to keep hidden.”
Initially, I hesitated. This wasn’t a path I had envisioned for myself. But I prayed about the decision and consulted with friends and with Governor Greitens, who told me, “Judy, you have an important message to share with the world.”
What ultimately convinced me were the unexpected reactions from men who approached me, often in tears, saying they recognized their mothers in my story — women who had endured abuse and battery. They would say, “If you could survive and thrive, Judy, perhaps they can too. I want them to hear your story.”
These encounters led me to write the book, and my deepest hope is that every reader will find something in these pages that helps them navigate their own life journey, whatever challenges they may face.
Yitzi: Judy, it’s been so delightful to meet you. I wish you continued success and blessings.
Judy: Oh, thank you. Same to you, Yitzi, and you have a blessed rest of your day.
Yitzi: Thank you so much.
Author Judy A Henderson on Surviving a Life Sentence, Finding Faith in Prison, and the Fight for Ju was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.