At 7:01 a.m. on an August Saturday, a peach pink glow settled on the horizon above a Walmart in Lancaster as a shiny black charter bus pulled into the parking lot. Angelica Zaragoza, wearing purple pants and a white “Janie’s Angels” T-shirt, began hauling supplies from her Mazda CX-50 to the bus’ rear storage compartment, walking back and forth across asphalt still hot from the previous day’s triple-digit temperatures.
The Muñoz siblings were there, too, Miracle, 15; Gabriela, 13; and Alijah, 9. Zaragoza stopped to wrap them in tight hugs. “Good morning, beautiful!” she said to the children before looking back to the bus.
“You get taller every time!” she shouted to Naim Khalid as the 15-year-old sleepily ascended the bus steps and sank into a dark leather window seat. Soon, doughnuts, Sunny-D, and Chick-fil-A Chick-N-Minis were distributed, attendance lists double-checked, and blankets drawn over bleary faces. Chris Ramsey, the bus driver, pressed play on his kid-friendly, personally curated, way-too-bumpin’-for-this-early-in-the-morning playlist and turned south onto the Interstate 35 frontage road.
The six kids are part of Janie’s Angels, a nonprofit profiled last year by The Lab Report, that helps foster and maintain connections between incarcerated mothers and their children. Ten months out of the year, Zaragoza and her small team of social workers and volunteers shuttle kids from Dallas to Gatesville, a town 35 miles west of Waco that is home to five of Texas’ nine female-only jails and prisons. Nearly 60% of Gatesville’s population of 16,432 is incarcerated, including the mothers of the half dozen children on the bus this Saturday.
After a pit stop at Buc-ee’s in Hillsboro, the kids perked up, laughing as they passed their squishy “NeeDoh” toys over the seats. No one seemed nervous. They’ve made this trip plenty of times; Miracle Muñoz guessed at least 12. She was scared her first time, going so far from home without her grandpa, “but I trusted [the program] right away,” she said. “They made it seem so comforting right away. They’d give us food, water; they would talk to us.”
Zaragoza knows how important the program is for incarcerated mothers and their children. She participated while in prison, when the nonprofit only allowed daughters and was called Girls Embracing Mothers. She volunteered after her release in 2016 and was soon offered a full-time job. She became CEO in 2023. That Saturday trip to Gatesville marked about a year since Zaragoza expanded the program to include sons. She renamed the nonprofit Janie’s Angels in honor of the aunt who cared for Zaragoza’s three boys during her time behind bars.
Miracle said things became livelier once boys could board the bus: “All the girls would be asleep. Oh, it would be so quiet, but now it’s loud!”
As the sun reached full strength, the bus arrived at Pruitt’s, a convenience store down the street from the prison complex. There, Zaragoza and her team picked up another six kids driven in by their guardians from cities like Abilene and San Antonio. Juanita Cisneros dropped off her 14-year-old granddaughter, Eris Enriquez, along with a yellow sheet cake with purple icing. She wanted her daughter, Leticia Lee, who is serving 15 years for drug-related charges, to feel like she was part of Enriquez’s upcoming quinceañera.
With the bus now full, Ramsey hit the gas for the final 2 miles then pulled to a stop outside the Christina Melton Crain Unit. Eight mothers, ranging in age from 32 to 55 and dressed in matching white jumpsuits, were visible through two layers of chain-link fencing topped by razor wire. They shaded their eyes from the sun to watch their children file off the bus and stroll through the double gates.
After a flurry of hugs and kisses, they clasped hands, linked arms, and hurried into a nearby air-conditioned room for their 4-hour visit. Volunteers set out large tins of spaghetti, corn, and salad. “Nothing like free world food!” said Shamkea Khalid, one of the moms.
The moms gathered their children in tight groups around folding tables. While the kids detailed summer adventures and anxieties about the upcoming school year, the moms listened with blissful smiles and rapt attention. Lena Acosta tenderly played with the beads of Lila’s bracelet. Ruth Triana ran her fingers through Sebastian’s hair as she caressed 7-year-old Romeo’s ears. Susie Q Morales braided Gabriela’s hair. Leticia Lee rubbed Eris’ and David’s feet at the same time.
Without the program, such intimate moments between mother and child would not be possible.
“This is what they really come for,” Lee said, laughing. “I can hold them; I can touch them; I can kiss them, and nobody stops us, and nobody keeps us from having that emotional bond with each other.”
The Lab Report spent a day with the kids and their mothers, documenting what Zaragoza’s nonprofit has turned into a regular reunion.
Lila Edwards, 17, closes her eyes as the bus heads down Interstate 35 toward Gatesville, where her mother is incarcerated. Lila, who has been in the program for nearly a decade, was the oldest child on the trip and will age out next year. Her mother, Lena Acosta, is serving a 40-year sentence after being convicted of murdering a rival lover when Lila was just 1 year old. “The fact that she’s been in jail for so long — like all my life, actually — it’s kinda like I’m used to the fact that she’s in there, but it’s not something that I really want to stay used to. You know, like, I really do want her to come home … I don’t want her to be in there till I’m 40.”
Jah’Sir Khalid, center, 11, laughs and passes “Needoh” squishy toys back and forth with the Muñoz siblings while his brother Naim Khalid, 15, stares out the window on the way to Gatesville. Jah’Sir says he misses crawling into bed and watching movies with his mother before falling asleep. “I’m happy and I’m sad because I don’t wanna see my mom in jail, but I still wanna see her,” he said.
The group makes a quick stop at Buc-ee’s in Hillsboro before continuing on to Gatesville.
Naim Khalid is one of six kids who made the trip from Dallas to Gatesville; Janie’s Angels facilitates such visits 10 months out of the year.
Zaragoza, center, and Stephanie McGary, left, a volunteer and Janie’s Angels board member, pass out juice and chicken biscuits as the kids find their seats after leaving Buc-ee’s. Zaragoza is acutely aware of the challenges faced by the kids she serves. “You need your mom when you’re starting your period or when you’re going into middle school, or when you made a bad choice. You always need your mom, and I feel the weight of the children every time we go.”
Gatesville is home to five of Texas’ nine female-only jails and prisons.
Eight mothers wait for their children outside the Christina Melton Crain Unit in Gatesville. Many of the women commend the motivating influence of Janie’s Angels. “If you get a major [disciplinary] case, you won’t be able to see your kids for about a year,” said Jacqueleen Olivo, 32, second from left, who is 10 years into a 43-year sentence for aggravated robbery. “Every day, I’m always thinking about them and every month that’s what keeps me steady and keeps me focused, being able to see my kids.”
Shamkea Khalid, 46, hugs her son, Naim Khalid, as he arrives for their 4-hour visit. Khalid was incarcerated in 2024 for manslaughter after fatally shooting a man in a 2022 altercation at a Dallas car wash. “It feels good to touch ‘em, and I miss ‘em, and I wanna hug on ‘em and kiss on ‘em, and they don’t really let me do that anymore now that they’re older,” Khalid said.
Khalid walks with her sons Jah’Sir, left, and Naim into an air-conditioned room at the Christina Melton Crain Unit where they will spend their visit. “It makes me feel bad that I’m not able to be there to take care of them the way I’m supposed to — financially, mentally, and physically,” Khalid said.
A buffet of spaghetti and meatballs, corn, and salad is spread out on a folding table at the beginning of the visit. The meal, shared with the children, is a special treat for the incarcerated mothers.
Shamkea Khalid laughs with her sons Jah’Sir, left, and Naim as they enjoy their food. Khalid describes Jah’Sir as an “emotional roller coaster.” She regrets she is not able to be more present for her son. “I raised him, so I know what to do with him,” she said. “He gets frustrated real easily, but I feel like other people don’t have the time or the patience to be able to deal with him like I do.”
In this composite image, the incarcerated mothers hold and caress their children’s fingers, ears, feet, and hair during the visit.
Lena Acosta, 36, smiles at her 17-year-old daughter Lila Edwards during a lull in the visit. Acosta, who was convicted of murder before Edwards turned 2, barely saw her daughter for the first seven years of her sentence. She has been able to connect with her more deeply over the past nine years thanks to Janie’s Angels. “I was depressed and getting in trouble in here, but now I have a purpose to stay out of trouble,” she said.
Alisa Prueitt, 55, sits beneath a mural of a longhorn with her daughter LaNaye Golden, 15, as they prepare to get their picture taken by a Janie’s Angels volunteer.
Alisa Prueitt writes encouraging messages in a notebook that her daughter can take home.
Susie Q Morales, 33, and her 15-year-old daughter Miracle try to land a balloon in a trashcan using only a hula hoop during a team-building game. “We have freedom to enjoy the things with each other that we can’t do in regular visitation like run around or eat or play or take photos or be comfortable enough to play in each other’s hair,” Morales said.
Shamkea Khalid laughs with her sons Jah’Sir, left, and Naim as they work on a craft together. “I’m sad that I’m here sometimes, but I’m dealing with it, and we all make mistakes, and even sometimes when we feel like stuff isn’t fair, I feel like it’s God’s way of saying, ‘Well, hey, I need you to sit down for a moment to become this or do this, and when you get through doing that, then I’ll let you go home.’ So I just look at life like it’s not a mistake and we go through everything for a reason.”
Leticia Lee, 42, celebrates with her daughter Eris Enriquez, 14, after playing a team-building game together as her son David Cisneros, 10, looks on.
Shamkea Khalid celebrates with her son, Naim, after a team-building game.
A corrections officer joins Alijah Muñoz, 9, as they make beaded keychains.
Leticia Lee celebrates her daughter Eris Enriquez’s 15th birthday as Angelica Zaragoza cheers in the background. “It’s really hard not being there for all the milestones,” said Lee, who will have to miss her daughter’s quinceañera in a few weeks. “She is the first girl in our family to have a quinceañera, so that’s really important to us, and I’m very sad that I have to miss that. But Janie’s Angels has given me that opportunity to grow with them and spend time with them that I wouldn’t have any other way.”
Leticia Lee rubs her daughter Eris Enriquez’s feet as they prepare to say goodbye at the end of the visit. “This is what they really come for,” Lee says with a laugh.
Susie Q Morales carries her son Alijah Muñoz, 9, on her back as they say goodbye. The farewell piggyback ride has become a tradition, she says. “His sisters don’t really like me to treat ‘em too much like a baby anymore so it’s kinda his way of still being able to do that.”
Gabriela Muñoz, 15, hugs her mom, Susie Q Morales, at the end of the visit. Morales was sentenced in 2021 for multiple offenses including drug possession, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and theft. “I want them to know that I am doing my best and I know I made the mistakes that I made. But anybody can make mistakes; they just have to come back from them and give their best to be in a better place in life no matter what.”
The kids line up to exit the Christina Melton Crain Unit and board the bus after the visit. “The stress on the kids, it’s unthinkable,” Angelica Zaragoza says. “You’re having to leave your mom behind and you know what a horrific place it is.”
Jah’Sir, 11; Lila Edwards, 17; and Alijah Muñoz, 9; clockwise from top left, sleep on the bus ride home.
Jeffrey McWhorter is a photographer based in Dallas. hello@labreportdallas.com.