What Teresa Giudice's Family Can Expect After She's Released From Prison
My dad back in the everyday routine - seen here picking up his grandson from school a week after he was released from prison. (Photo by Christine Coppa)
Christine Coppa’s father — an ex-attorney who was once a municipal court prosecutor —served 7 months in a state prison for a non-violent, white-collar crime after taking a plea deal, admitting he was guilty to two counts of third-degree “failure to make proper disposition” to his clients from his trust account. Below, Coppa talks about the triumphs and struggles her family faced after her father was released. She also offers her own advice, consults an expert, and interviews another mother who served prison time to paint a picture of what life could be like for the family of “Real Housewives of New Jersey” star Teresa Giudice, who will be released in February 2016 after serving 13 months for fraud (likely December ‘15). The four Giudice daughters will then be faced with saying goodbye to their father, Joe, who will serve four years in a federal prison following the release of his wife - the family split up again.
I arrived at court around 10:30 am with my older brother and sat in a pew, tapping my foot on the ground. We were there to see if my dad was going to be released from prison early. The lawyer my family hired arrived and spoke to us briefly — I handed him the last check for $2,500 from my account — another factor of imprisonment that hurts families. Save your jokes: I (along with other family members) was paying his legal fees, commissary and phone with my hard-earned money even though I’d done nothing wrong. This felt like punishment, however. There are days when I am resentful, but there’s a point when you have to decide if you’re going to turn your back or jump on for the ride.
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When I heard a shuffle-shuffle-jingle-jangle, my older brother turned to me and said, “Dad’s here, ” with an optimistic chirp. He was convinced dad was coming home and even brought what he called “rescue clothes” in a briefcase that was resting at our feet. I had no idea what was going to happen. Hope was lost.
The door opened and a sheriff’s officer led Dad to the defense table — he looked my way and I smiled. He was in a county uniform now: orange jumpsuit and Toms-like slip-on shoes. Dad was hand and ankle-cuffed, with a belt and chain around his waist. His hair had grown so long and wild. He looked deranged. But, it was worse.
During his incarceration his bottom, custom-made denture from MSKCC (a Cancer hospital in NYC) broke, because he was unable to clean and care for it, like at home. State Prison could not handle my father’s specific care (my dad lost his entire bottom jaw and teeth in a 14-hour operation during Cancer treatment in 2003 — I share this not for sympathy, but as fact.) Dad could barely talk or eat without his denture - no one at State cared. But my family did and we weren’t going to let him physically suffer anymore, even though we’d all come to terms with his wrongdoings. My stomach felt like it was filled with one million soda bubbles.
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Our attorney argued my dad needed healthcare he couldn’t receive while in prison with letters from his doctors at MSKCC to back this up. (No one was whining or making this up. Doctors would not compromise their careers by entering letters into court).
My father received zero healthcare while in prison. The facilitators at the state prison where my dad was held ignored his attorney’s request for his medical records. They further ignored requests that were made by the official court. When it became so bad and my dad could barely chew to eat, CO’s wouldn’t even extend him an extra milk in the mess hall for nutrition. “Fist,” an image who was my dad’s friend (friend?) often made sure he had milk and soft food, bartering around. Finally, the judge himself had to call the prison and learn there was zero medical care given to my dad. (This is public record.)
Photo by Dave Kotinsky/Getty Images
The new, young prosecutor (the one who prosecuted my dad had moved to the West Coast after my dad went in) argued against that, mumbling, uh, um he should just serve his whole sentence. At that, the judge said to him (in not these exact words), Did you not just hear that this man is sick and needs help? Has received no healthcare? The hearing was quick. The judge, with kind eyes, was sympathetic and honest in his decision.
My dad was released by the judge. He would continue to make restitution to the state, but the two victims named in the indictment had been paid in full. (I was relieved to know these people — victims — recovered what was theirs.)
But my dad was not free.
He spent the next five days in county jail, (called “OG” all over again) 12 minutes from his home with no visits from family — because it was a holiday weekend and no one back at State would process his paperwork even though there were people working there and it was confirmed paperwork from county had arrived. Officials at State that called him “Old F*ck” were “surprised” he was released and said “they’d get to it.” They had many hours to “get to it.” The day closed and dad was still behind bars. Odd.
My brother and I went to a bar that night. Then a diner. We joked about busting him out. We laughed that Dad was still in the slammer over a plate of disco fries. We were delirious at this point.
My dad came home on Tuesday, Nov 12, 2013. “Let’s get the hell outa here,” he told my brother, who rescued him. My brother recalled my dad showering and frying up taylor ham upon entering his home. We all came together that night. It was my son’s first time seeing his Poppy in seven months. They hugged and my son stayed glued to his lap.
Photo by Andrei Jackamets/Bravo/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images
We ate trays of delicious food we ordered from The Brownstone in Paterson. My dad was overwhelmed by all the soft foods he could chew and eat: Eggplant, pasta, rice balls. There was sausage, salad, chicken, beef, antipasto. Second and third helpings. All the milk he wanted.
My dad sat on the couch quietly after dinner (quiet and to himself was his norm now, though he was usually a chatterbox). I remember he startled when a metal serving spoon dropped on the kitchen floor. Dad had changed.
For my brothers and I, it was wonderful to have him back and also an adjustment. For the seven months he was in prison, we took his calls, communicated with his attorney, funded his commissary, phone, lawyer, and visited him every weekend — there was always something to do for dad and we did it.
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And trust me, my siblings and I weren’t bored with our full-time jobs, lives and, for me, raising my son solo — but it was different knowing my responsibilities to my dad were over. I would often wake up and assume he was still in jail. The phone would ring and I would wait for the recording about pressing 8 to accept the call. I don’t press 8 anymore.
The burden, heavy on my shoulders, for so long, has lifted. That nervous energy churning with helplessness filtered away, like water running through a drain. The weekends would come and I didn’t have to go to jail to visit him anymore. I slowly started to find myself again. I still think about jail. The drug-sniffing labs, the nice CO’s who always greeted me, the infant I held in the visiting room, because the mom, a stranger, needed to use the bathroom. That dive bar and the peanut shells I nervously cracked opened. The stretch of farmland on both sides of me, as I cruised to … jail. That moment in my life and how it changed me.
Amy Povah, a member of FAMM (Families Against Mandatory Minimums) and the founder of Can Do, was incarcerated for nine years and three months. Today she works to help inmates with their reentry into society. While she doesn’t have kids, she works with a lot of moms with young kids (like Teresa Giudice, who will serve 11 months of her 15-month sentence). No matter the sentence, these moms transition from jail to motherhood overnight.
“The initial reunion is very wonderful,” Povah tells Yahoo Parenting. “But then day-to-day sets in. Some of these kids have been living with other guardians and taking on adult responsibilities, like caring for younger siblings and running the household, now all of a sudden they are supposed to be kids again and listen to mom.”
Giudice told Bravo’s Andy Cohen that her daughter, Gia, 13, will step into her shoes while she’s away. "She said, ‘Mommy, don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. I’ll help Daddy with the girls. That will … prepare me for when I’m a mom.’ Oh my God, my heart broke when she said that." Even though my brothers and I were many years older, we came together like that, taking care of dad and each other.
Photo by Thomas Concordia/WireImage for STYLE36/Getty Images
Dr. Carole Lieberman is a Beverly Hills-based forensic psychiatrist who has worked with families when a parent has been imprisoned. She tells Yahoo Parenting that even though the child is happy to have the parent back after his or her sentence ends, it means that their world will be shaken up again.
“The child might also be frightened of his mother now, knowing that she was living with murderers and other criminals,” she says. (Offenders are not classified by their offense regardless if they are in a max or minimum-security prison. My dad was housed with killers, rapists, and drug king pins.)
If the family’s living situation has changed and it’s more difficult to incorporate the parent into the mix, “the child may feel resentful,” Lieberman says.
Giudice’s kids currently have a strong support system with their father, Joe, but other kids of incarcerated parents aren’t so fortunate. (I realize my family is lucky. We had the tools, education, support and everything we needed to make it through. This is something we never thought possible.)
Angie, 50, from Arizona, served eight years in three different federal prisons on drug-related charges. Her children were 2, 4, 9, and 13 when she went in. The kids were split up — the youngest two going to her in-laws, her 9-year-old with his birth dad and her 13-year-old with friends. Angie tells Yahoo Parenting her kids weren’t able to visit that much. “In the eight years I was in, my 9-year-old’s father wouldn’t allow him to visit, but I was able to speak with him on the phone,” she says. Her youngest children visited a total of three times and her teenage daughter, who Angie says needed her the most in the years she was away, came 5 times.
“Most important, for any family, is to make sure that the children are brought to visit the parent in prison as often as possible. This allows the children to feel less abandoned and less frightened of their parent changing” so when they do come, they know it’s still mom, says Dr. Lieberman.
And mom getting released early can shake up the routine a child has adjusted to. “If mom is allowed to come home sooner than expected, although in some ways it makes kids happier, it also disorients them. They may have made plans to be on a sports team or in a school play, and this now gets disrupted because they need to move to a different school to be with mom.”
Dr. Lieberman says mom is going through a major adjustment period too: “It is hard for any prisoner to reintegrate into a normal family life. Mom has been in a very structured setting where she had no control of her life. So, she may either react in a very passive way, not wanting to take on parental responsibilities, or she may overreact and become the ‘warden’ of her home.”
Angie tells Yahoo Parenting she did the best to turn her life around in prison, taking as many classes as she could and attaining an associates in applied science, but this didn’t seem to help much — not for her older children — when she was released from prison. Her son, 17 and daughter 21 grew up without their mom during the delicate teenage years. “You weren’t there for me when I needed you,” was something both of them threw at Angie — and she knew it to be true. She understood where their anger was coming from and let them talk, or even yell. “It’s important to let your children be heard.
“Do not discredit their feelings,” says Angie who admits her relationship with the older kids is a work in progress. The little ones, now 10 and 14, were thrilled to have mommy back. “My son looked at me and said, mommy you’re beautiful!”
Angie tells Yahoo Parenting her in-laws did a tremendous job educating and treating them to music lessons. When they got home to their mommy, they wanted to make up for lost time and do “normal stuff” like read bedtime stories, go to the zoo and cuddle watching TV. “As a parent on the inside, do everything you can, so when you come out you can look your kids in the eyes and start over.”
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