This story is published in partnership with Open Campus, a nonprofit newsroom focused on higher education. Subscribe to College Inside, an Open Campus newsletter about the intersection of higher education and criminal justice.
Noa Offman had it all planned out: She would major in biology at Georgetown University, go to medical school, and become a doctor. But a chance encounter in a theology class she took her first semester of college changed everything. Her professor invited Colie "Shaka" Long to join the class as a guest speaker.
Long, who was on a Zoom call from the D.C. Jail, told the class about being sentenced to life without the possibility of parole as a teenager, his experience with solitary confinement and how he became a mentor for young men in prison.
"He was warm, he was brilliant, and he's somebody that I wanted to continue to learn from," she recalls. "I walked away from that conversation wondering who prisons are protecting me from."
The next day, Offman went to the registrar's office and changed her major from biology to justice and peace studies. She wanted to understand the root causes of incarceration, the lived experiences of those behind bars, and how she could make a difference.
Offman's experience is just one example of the ripple effects that prison education programs can have on college campuses. When college students engage directly with the criminal justice system and have direct interaction with those impacted by incarceration, these programs can challenge preconceptions, influence career paths, and inspire activism.
After the Zoom lecture, Offman emailed her professor describing how the experience had changed her plans for the future. The professor forwarded the note to Long, offering him a powerful reminder that his story mattered.
"When I read the email, I started crying," he recalled.
After spending 26 years in the federal system, Long came home in 2022 under a Washington, D.C. law that allows judges to review the sentences of people who went to prison as young adults. D.C. was one of the first jurisdictions in the country to extend sentencing relief to people who were under 25 at the time they were convicted. The law is based on the growing research that shows that young people’s brains aren’t fully developed but also have great capacity for change.
Offman and Long stayed in touch since their first encounter in 2020. She even attended his first parole hearing, which was conducted virtually due to the pandemic. It was the first court proceeding she had ever witnessed, she said.
When Long and Offman finally met in person at a Georgetown event shortly after he was released, it was a momentous occasion.
"That was the first time I actually saw her and gave her a hug," Long said.
After his release, Long started working at Georgetown’s Prisons and Justice Initiative, the same program that had brought him and Offman together in the first place. He began as a program associate and now serves as a reentry coordinator, helping others navigate the challenges of returning home from prison. Long is also continuing the education he started in the D.C. Jail on campus, pursuing a bachelor’s degree in liberal arts.
Long was also the subject of a 2023 documentary, "District of Second Chances," which follows the reentry journeys of three men who were all teenagers when they were sentenced to life in prison.
As part of his work at Georgetown, Long served as a teaching assistant for law professor Marc Howard's "Prisons and Punishment" class fall semester. On the first day of class, Offman was surprised when she walked into the lecture hall and saw him. He joked that she was stalking him.
Their connection took on new significance when Offman asked Long to write a letter of recommendation for her Rhodes Scholarship application.
"I was so honored," Long said. "To speak about her character, it also validates and reminds me of the relevancy of my existence."
When Offman told him she had been awarded the prestigious scholarship to study at Oxford University in the United Kingdom after she graduates this spring, Long was overjoyed.
“Honestly, I knew she was going to get it,” he said. “I was so ecstatic. It felt like I made parole again. I know she's not my daughter, but it's like, man, I'm seeing my baby girl get this, I'm so proud of her."
For Offman, having Long's support was invaluable.
"I feel grateful and blessed," she said. "I hope that his legacy continues to inspire young folks like me to ask more of the societies that we grew up in, because that's exactly what he did for me."
Long and Offman's lives were both shaped by crucial events at age 18. For Long, it was the beginning of a life sentence that would take away his liberty for the next 26 years. For Offman, it was the beginning of a friendship that would radically alter her worldview and her future career.
"To the 18-year-old me, this would be unfathomable," Long said. "I wasn't able to see that I would actually live to be 40, not to mention to be in a position where I can possibly positively affect another 18-year-old. And that's what's crazy, because I lost my life when I was 18, but to help somebody discover a new life when they're 18, it's like, man, that's a hell of a story right there."
Stay up-to-date with the politics team. Sign up for the Teen Vogue Take
