"My experience in the federal system showed me firsthand how distance punishes families as much as individuals. During my incarceration, I was transferred across multiple states. I was first housed in West Virginia, then in two facilities in Pennsylvania, and ultimately finished my sentence in North Carolina. Each move stretched the physical and emotional gap between me and the people who mattered most.

For my family, visiting meant long drives, hotel rooms, gas money, missed work, and childcare arrangements. The financial strain piled up quickly. Even when visits were possible, the burden of travel and lodging made them rare. Phone calls came with their own costs, and trying to maintain meaningful relationships while worrying about bills, time off, and everyday survival became overwhelming for everyone involved. That distance created emotional and mental stress that is difficult to measure but impossible to ignore. Being far from home meant missing milestones, conversations, and the steady presence of loved ones that helps people stay grounded. Over time, separation reshapes relationships. Some bonds weakened under the weight of geography and hardship. Others had to be rebuilt later, piece by piece.

Being housed so far from my community also altered my sense of belonging. The city I loved felt farther away with every transfer. In many ways, the system pushed me into creating a new version of family where I landed instead of returning to the place that shaped me. Distance does not just relocate bodies. It rearranges lives, futures, and identities.

Today, I stand on the other side of that experience. That is because today marks fifteen years, I've been free from the system. I relocated out of state, raise my two daughters, and dedicated myself to building a stable, purposeful life. I founded a logistics company and a publishing business, and more importantly, rebuilt strong, healthy relationships with my kids. I take full responsibility for being present in their lives and ensuring they grow into the best versions of themselves...”

My success did not come easily. It required years of repairing what separation strained and replacing what distance eroded. I often reflect on how much less painful that process could have been if proximity to family had been treated as part of rehabilitation rather than an afterthought.

Policies like H.R. 3012 recognize a simple truth. Keeping people closer to home preserves family ties, reduces financial hardship, supports emotional and mental well-being, and strengthens the foundation for successful reentry. Families should not be forced into debt, isolation, or permanent fracture just to maintain connection.

Distance changed the course of my life in ways that took decades to correct. No family should have to endure that same unnecessary burden. Keeping people closer to home is not about convenience. It is about dignity, accountability, healing, and giving individuals a real chance to return stronger to the communities they love."

“I am writing to share my testimonial regarding the profound impact of the District of Columbia’s practice of housing incarcerated individuals in facilities across the country. My experience highlights how this system creates insurmountable barriers for low-income families seeking to maintain essential bonds.

I entered the prison system at a very young age, shortly after my two sons were born. I was sentenced to thirty-two years and ultimately served twenty-eight. Of those years, I was housed within 500 miles of my home for only about five years. The remaining 20-plus years were spent in facilities across the United States, including Colorado, Mississippi, and California.

Because my family could not afford plane tickets or the high costs of long-distance travel, visitation became an afterthought. This geographical distance resulted in the total loss of physical contact during my sons' entire development. More importantly, it severed the mental connection and foundational bond that can only be established through consistent physical presence.

The long-term consequences of this displacement have been devastating. I returned home to a family that does not know me. Furthermore, I am currently experiencing homelessness, a situation I attribute largely to being separated from my community and support network for decades.

I hope that sharing my story illustrates the urgent need for policies that keep incarcerated individuals closer to their families and their homes.”

“Saleem Davis-Bey supports HR 3012 because proximity is essential to healing, accountability, and successful reentry. When people are incarcerated far from home, families are forced to survive on distance. Visits become rare or impossible. Phone calls replace presence. Children grow without parents. Parents age without support. What is labeled placement becomes prolonged separation that weakens family bonds and erodes community ties long before release ever comes.

As a Washington, DC resident, Saleem experienced how the federal 500-mile rule disrupts rehabilitation by isolating people from the very relationships that stabilize them. Distance does not correct behavior. It delays growth, strains mental health, and leaves families carrying emotional and financial burdens they did not create. When individuals return home after years of forced separation, they are expected to reintegrate without the support systems that distance helped dismantle.

HR 3012 addresses this harm by recognizing that connection is not a privilege. It is a public safety tool. Keeping DC residents closer to home strengthens families, supports emotional well-being, and allows accountability to happen in real time. This policy is not about easing punishment. It is about creating conditions where rehabilitation is possible, reentry is sustainable, and communities remain intact. Reducing distance is how we move from isolation to restoration.”

“My name is Terrell Peters. I am a returning citizen from the District of Columbia who continues to live with the residual effects of being incarcerated hundreds of miles away from my home, my children, and my community. While my sentence may be over, the damage created by that distance did not end when I walked out of prison. The separation reshaped my family relationships, weakened my community ties, and created barriers that I am still working to overcome today.

As a DC federal prisoner, I was housed more than 500 miles from home. That distance was not just a number on a map — it was a wall between me and my children. Regular visitation became nearly impossible due to travel costs, school schedules, and the strain on my family. Phone calls and letters could not replace presence. I missed birthdays, milestones, and the everyday moments that build trust and connection between a parent and their children. Over time, that absence created a painful gap that we are still trying to repair.

Maintaining family bonds is not simply a comfort for incarcerated people; it is a critical component of rehabilitation and successful reentry. Yet for many DC prisoners, being placed in facilities far from home makes maintaining those bonds nearly impossible. Instead of strengthening the support systems that help people come home successfully, distance weakens them. When people return home after years of separation, they often find that their support networks have eroded — not because they did not care, but because the system made it extremely difficult to stay connected.

Today, as a returning citizen, I continue to feel the impact of that forced separation. Rebuilding trust with my children requires time, patience, and emotional work that could have been lessened if I had been allowed to remain closer to home. Reconnecting with my community means rebuilding relationships that faded during years of physical isolation.

The consequences of distant placement did not end at release; they followed me into reentry, affecting my stability, my mental health, and my ability to fully reintegrate. I am committed to rebuilding my relationships, contributing to my community, and using my experience to advocate for a more humane and effective system — one that recognizes that strong families and strong communities are essential to successful reentry.”