A former correctional officer had just finished work when police pulled over the car she was riding in.
“It was just a thoughtless night,” Dasia said. “I was under the influence and heavily triggered.”
Officers ran her name. A warrant surfaced for driving under suspension and a missed court date she says she never knew about because the notice went to the wrong address.
“Sometimes the first impression is all you get with somebody, and they get stuck with that,” she continued.
The bail was $250.
She spent 12 days in jail.
“I kind of felt violated,” she recalled, describing how two male correctional officers searched her and unzipped her hoodie despite her objections.
Angry and intoxicated, she flooded a toilet in her pod after being denied a phone call.
“It was like an out of body situation,” she explained. “I was so mad they wouldn’t let me make a phone call. I could’ve bonded out that night.”
She could not.
The jail was the same one where she had once worn a uniform.
“When you’re a CO, you’re honored,” she said. “You’re important. But being an inmate – you go from feeling righteous to feeling like a peasant.”
Inside, she tried to steady herself by steadying others.
“I spoke life into the other inmates,” Dasia said. “We’d talk, and I’d try to broaden people’s perspective about what we were going through. It wasn’t just for them – it was for me, too.”
She has lived with mental health challenges for years.
“What people don’t know,” she continued, “is that without being under a substance, sometimes it feels like you are anyway.”
She accepts responsibility.
“Even with mental health, you’ve got to present yourself in a way people can honor.”
“Broken crayons still color.”
She also said she challenged a correctional officer who was cursing at detainees.
“I got into it with one of the COs,” she recalled. “She was calling inmates out their name, cussing at them. I had to remind her; that’s not part of your job description. You don’t get paid for that.”
When the officer later told her she had “won,” Dasia responded, “no, I’m behind this cage. I didn’t win anything. I just need you to stop treating people like that.”
Her release came after a counselor connected her with The Bail Project, which provides free bail assistance to those in need and advocates for better policies in the pretrial justice system.
“When I got to talk to them, it was a breath of fresh air,” she explained. “She told me she was working to get me out. And sure enough, I got released that day.”
Across the United States, hundreds of thousands of legally innocent people sit in jail awaiting trial. In Oklahoma alone, more than 9,000 people sit in local jails on any given day, nearly 70 percent legally innocent and awaiting court.
In Fulton County, Georgia, 32 people have died in jail since 2021. Nearly 90% of those incarcerated are Black in a county where Black residents make up 43% of the population. More than one-third of detainees faced bonds under $5,000, amounts that still kept them jailed because they could not afford upfront payments.
In Texas, nearly 70% of people in jail on any given day are awaiting trial at a cost of more than $1.1 billion annually.
The Bail Project’s report “Behind the Bill” details how lawmakers pushed constitutional changes that would have expanded pretrial detention before advocates secured protections requiring clear and convincing evidence before someone could be jailed pretrial.
In Florida, the Senate Rules Committee amended SB 600 to preserve nonprofit bail funds after language that would have blocked nonprofits from reusing refunded bail money threatened to shut them down.
“Charitable bail funds and faith-based groups reuse refunded bail money to help people a judge has already cleared for release,” said Josh Mitman, senior policy counsel at The Bail Project. “Shutting them down doesn’t make communities safer – it just keeps more people in jail unnecessarily and sticks taxpayers with the bill.”
In Washington, Congress passed H.R. 5214, legislation mandating expanded cash bail in the District. The Bail Project warned it would dismantle a system where 88% of people released pretrial remained arrest-free and 98% remained free from violent arrest.
“H.R. 5214 is a dangerous federal intrusion that overrides Washington, D.C.’s proven pretrial system and the democratic will of District residents,” said Erin George, National Director of Policy at The Bail Project. “Despite its claims, H.R. 5214 is not about public safety – it’s about control – and will have devastating ripple effects on families, communities, and safety.”
‘A quiet constitutional crisis is unfolding in America’
The organization’s national report “Detention by Design” documents that more than a quarter of states with constitutional rights to bail have proposed or enacted amendments expanding detention eligibility between 2021 and 2025.
“A quiet constitutional crisis is unfolding in America. State by state, the right to bail is being rewritten – expanding preventative detention, deepening reliance on money bail, and eroding the presumption of innocence,” said David Gaspar, chief executive officer of The Bail Project.
The organization’s “Inside Bail Reform” outlines six core components of effective policy, including eliminating cash bail, strengthening due process, ensuring counsel at first appearance, timely hearings, voluntary supportive services, and court reminders.
Since its founding, The Bail Project reports that it has supported more than 40,000 people, including roughly 35,000 whose release it secured through bail assistance. With support such as reminders and transportation, 92% returned to court.
Dasia said freedom after jail was not simple.
The case kept her from working for nearly a year. The stigma followed her.
“I’m a hard worker,” she said. “All I’ve ever known is to work. But God’s been telling me this is a season to be still, to listen, to recenter.”
She also explained The Bail Project continues to check on her.
“They’ve helped me with resources and given me advice when I’m in error. They challenge me to grow,” Dasia said. “That’s how you become the best version of yourself – by having people who really care.”
She hopes one day to do similar work.
“If I could, I’d do what they do,” she said. “It takes patience and purpose. They’re selfless. They help people restart.”
Further, Dasia emphasized the biggest lesson she’s received from The Bail Project.
“It helps me remember who I am,” she said, “and that it’s never too late to start over.”