January 29, 2026

Update

I love them people
Connection matters to people in prison and to their families. People who get regular visits in prison are less likely to return to prison when they are released. Family members who can stay in touch also benefit – parenting from afar is difficult, but not impossible with visits, calls, and video chats like the ones that Cass facilitated for Theresa and Raheem.
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It’s all a ball of confusion to Theresa — email, the internet, the state’s complicated online prison visitor registration system. Maybe the young people have it all sorted out, but lots of others don’t, including Theresa.

Luckily for Theresa, Cass Tilley does, which is why three times a month, Theresa stops by the Prison Society’s Philadelphia offices for video chats with her son, Raheem, in prison at the other end of the state, more than 300 miles away. 

Cass, who works as a helpline and prison monitoring associate at the Prison Society, helped Theresa establish an account on the prison visitor system. Cass helps initiate each scheduled video call for Theresa on the big screen in the Prison Society's conference room.

“She’s real sweet, a nice young person,” Theresa said. “She sets it up for me. I’m no good on that internet stuff. It’s their equipment in their conference room. I don’t know what you have to press to do this and do that.”

What she does know is that she loves her son, and as much as the connection means to him, it means the same to her.

Connection matters to people in prison and to their families. People who get regular visits in prison are less likely to return to prison when they are released. Family members who can stay in touch also benefit — parenting from afar is difficult, but not impossible with visits, calls, and video chats like the ones that Cass facilitated for Theresa and Raheem.

“I wanted to pass out when I got the call hearing he was locked up,” Theresa said. “I was a nervous wreck. I was no good. I thought I was having a nervous breakdown. I could hardly sleep.

“I was beaten down and broken by feeling that I was helpless, that I couldn’t do nothing. I was working at the time. I couldn’t function at work,” she said. “The only thing on my mind was Raheem. Was he all right? I was morally, physically, emotionally broke. I started praying.”

She soon managed to visit him in a Philadelphia prison. It wasn’t perfect, but at least she could see that he was alive and reasonably well, under the circumstances.

But in 2023, when he was transferred across the state, that was the end of those visits. She could hear his voice on phone calls, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to see him.

Then one day, a few months later, he called her, excited. Inside the prison, he had seen a Prison Society flyer about the video calls. He dictated the details, word for word, as Theresa took notes in the pink notebook she always carries.

Theresa picked up the phone and dialed the Prison Society. And that’s how it began about two years ago. 

“I love them people to death down there,” Theresa said about Cass and the other Prison Society staffers who help her. At first, Theresa worried that they’d get tired of her coming in, but no, they reassured her that they would help her as long as she needed them.

Earlier this month, as usual, she video-saw Raheem, nearly as big as life, in a private conversation in the Prison Society conference room. He had just turned 43 the day before. 

“Yesterday was his birthday, that’s why I scheduled the visit for today,” Theresa said, after the call was over. 

“We talk about everyday stuff,” she said. “What he’s doing in there.”

She’s proud that he has a job in the kitchen, building off of skills he developed before he went to prison. She’s happy that he enjoyed a magic show at the prison on his actual birthday and that his roommate gave him a gift. 

Mother and son nag each other. He constantly asks if she’s taking her medicine. She constantly asks if he’s keeping up with his grooming. 

“You can’t be walking around being funky,” she told him, laughing.

“It helps him feel he’s not alone in this situation, that he got people on his side, wanting him to do better, knowing that his family hasn’t turned their back on him because of the situation,” Theresa said.

People need to understand, she said, that people in her son’s situation aren’t all bad. “They aren’t monsters, or whatever. They are people too. They have rights. They can change with the right backing, with support, with love from family members and friends, with people not turning their back on them, with closeness.”

And, as much as the video calls help Raheem, they help Theresa too.

“It gives me peace of mind.” 

If you need help creating an IVVS account to schedule a visit with a loved one, please watch our explainer video for more details. If you need assistance scheduling a video call with your loved one, please contact our helpline.