Inside Ohio's most notorious prison, a unique experiment is underway; men who once brandished guns and other weapons of violence are picking up paint brushes and seeing themselves and their surroundings in a whole new light.
It sits in the hills of southern Ohio, surrounded by tangles of razor wire, walled off from the world. But it is history, not the high walls, that casts the longest shadow over the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility, better known by the name of the community it calls home: Lucasville.
"When you hear the facility referred to as ‘Lucasville,’” said Warden Donald Morgan. "The riot that occurred on Easter Sunday does come to mind."
It was one of the deadliest prison uprisings in American history. An 11-day siege 22 years ago that left one guard and nine inmates dead.
Morgan started there just after the 1993 riot.
"That is something that will always be associated with this facility, but at the same time, the changes that have occurred over the years have been positive. It's something that did occur, but we have gotten better."
Today, SOCF is Ohio's only maximum security prison, home to some 1,300 inmates.
"It would be safe to say that we do receive the most aggressive and the most violent offenders across the state," Morgan said. Some of whom, like the prison that houses them, are trying to outlive the memory of their darkest day.
"What most folks may not think about is very real, is the fact that the majority of these offenders that are incarcerated in the Department of Corrections are going to return to our communities. They're going to be our neighbors, they're going to be co-workers of some of our family members. It's my belief that all offenders can change."
He says he's seen it firsthand, most recently in a wing of the prison formerly known as "E Complex." "The Veterans’ Corridor is what we've re-named it,” Morgan adds.
The Veterans' Corridor was the accidental brainchild of Corrections Officer Darren Mustard.
"The walls were always cream colored. You know, it's a corridor in a maximum security prison,” said Mustard.
Initially, all he wanted was to spruce up the walls surrounding his workspace.
As a veteran, the first idea that came to Mustard’s mind was a military theme.
“It started with the United States Army flag,” he said.
He had the problem, and the solution, what he lacked was the talent. So he started looking for inmates with artistic ability to turn his idea into reality.
"If you want an artist, go find a guy that's got a lot of tattoos,” he said.
He found both in an inmate named Michael. "I was just shocked by the talent,” Mustard said. “I was really amazed.”
"It started out in grade school,” said Michael. “My grade school art teacher, Miss Chaney held up a mask she made and drew a picture of it on the chalkboard. I thought it was one of the most amazing things in the world that someone could just take a stick and make marks on the wall and make it look like a picture. I've been practicing it and trying it ever since."
But his hobby and life would take a devastating detour.
"When I was a teenager, I was involved in drinking and drugs,” Michael begins. “(It) got me around the wrong crowd of people. One thing led to another, and alcohol and drugs led to violence. Michael says he shot two people at a party after his temper got the best of him. He was charged with two counts of attempted murder. “It's probably the biggest regret I have in my life," he adds.
Michael’s crime earned him a 21 year sentence -- more years in prison than he'd had on the planet.
"When I first came to prison, being young and given the sentence I was given, it made me even more angry, and it made me lash out. Most of the problems that got me here, ended up getting worse," he explains.
But today, the violent felon with discipline issues has found peace in paint, turning bland prison walls into a technicolor tribute to those who have served.
On this day, his attention is focused on a mural with special meaning to him. "It's B-24 Liberators. It's the plane my grandfather served on. My grandfather was my hero. To me, he's the greatest man that ever lived."
"When they're focused on their family and they're focused on their work, then they're focused on a change,” said Mustard. “I thought, ‘well that's a bit of water for the plant,’ and it just started growing."
"We never slowed down after the first five flags went up on the wall,” said Morgan. “Once we saw the offenders and some of their artistic ability, some of the brainstorming conversations started taking place immediately."
Soon, the view from Mustard's desk wasn't the only noticeable change. "When the Warden comes down and knows your name and says, ‘Hey man, that is sharp, how do you do that,’ it gives them that breath of fresh air,” Mustard said. “It's a light at the end of the tunnel."
Asked how long it’s been since he’s had something to be proud of or praised for, Michael answers with a laugh: “High school maybe?"
Michael was transferred to Lucasville because of behavior problems at other prisons. Since he started painting in the Veterans’ Corridor, he's had not a single incident, and is now eligible to transfer to a less secure facility.
However, he's chosen to stay there.
"It's not the most comfortable of living conditions down here,” he said. “But I love my job. I love what it means to people. Art itself has taught me a little bit about dedication, and I want to see it through."
The project has been viewed by local veterans groups, and Michael is now tutoring other inmates. "I'd never believe it. I've always been an offender, a criminal and this has not only made me see people in a different light, but it's made society and staff here all view me a lot different now. We actually have social interaction. We can talk and discuss family, military, politics. It breaks down a lot of barriers, it's not just pictures.”
Today, the Warden calls him "a model prisoner." Still, Michael says he'll never forget his crimes, and he knows others won't either. "It's really hard to pull away from it. Some people never do. That'll be their mark for the rest of their life,” he said.
But for the opportunity to make a new mark, to find light in the darkest of places, he says he is grateful. "Being able to go from the guilt of what I've done, the people I've hurt, to give a small measure back, and realize my past doesn't dictate who I am."
In a facility that was rebuilt brick-by-brick, working to write a new story for itself day-by-day, men who've done the darkest of deeds, brushstroke by brushstroke, now see a portrait of hope.
Michael is 12 years into a 21 year sentence. He is scheduled to be released in January of 2023.
Based on his work on the Veterans' Corridor, he has already received offers of painting jobs once he's released.