Over a decade ago, I walked out of jail—a convicted felon.

But my story didn’t start there.

It started when I fell into the hands of someone I thought I could trust. I was a hopeless romantic yearning for real love, and he saw that as his opportunity.

Within weeks, he groomed me—manipulating my emotions, isolating me from support, and making me believe that love and control were the same thing.

Before I knew it, I was no longer just a young lady in love. I was his perfect victim—his perfect sale, every time.

He trafficked me across South Florida, forcing me into a life of crime—what the legal world refers to as forced criminality.

I was 21 years old, naive, and too vulnerable to recognize the red flags. But they were there.

Eight months into being trafficked, I encountered law enforcement again. It wasn’t until my sixth encounter with law enforcement that everything changed.

That moment led to a one-year jail sentence—an ending, in many ways, but also the unexpected beginning of something greater.

On June 19, 2013, I walked out of jail.

I had no idea how I was going to rebuild my life.

 

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The next five years were brutal.

No handouts. No resources. No grants. No therapy.

Just rejection after rejection.

The only things I had left? Faith and sheer willpower.

I refused to accept that my past would define me. I refused to become another statistic.

Being labeled a convicted felon was just a chapter—not the whole story.

No matter how impossible it seemed, I knew one day, that label would no longer apply to me.

People laughed. Some pitied me. I didn’t care.

As a survivor, I know how much one person who truly cares can change everything.

I surrounded myself with people who inspired me. I cut ties with anything—or anyone—that didn’t serve my growth. I learned how to love myself.

I mastered the power of networking—building relationships, learning that opportunities don’t always come from applications, but from connections.

Then, on April 2018, everything changed.

That month, in a Collier County courtroom, all nine of my charges—every charge tied to my trafficking—were fully expunged.

I was no longer a convicted felon.


History was made that day in Collier County.
And on that day, I made a vow: I would dedicate my life to making a difference in the fight against human trafficking.

I have made it my mission to bridge the critical gap between law enforcement and survivors, ensuring more effective and compassionate support for victims.

But at the heart of my work is something simple:
No survivor should have to fight alone.

If you feel like your past is too heavy, your future too far, or your voice too small—I see you.

You are not broken. You are not beyond hope.

Your story is still being written.