Most of the one hundred probationers on my caseload were men. The male probation officers were disheartened by this fact. They had hoped I was hired to handle all the women probation cases. My supervisor was among the disappointed ones and explained, "The women are always whining and crying. They're nothing but a bunch of dopers and prostitutes. Most of them hit on us and have got a few of us in trouble. They wouldn't do that with you."

I knew it was more prestigious to work with men because they were perceived as real criminals and more dangerous. But I actually wanted to work with women since I could see the inequities of their treatment by the whole criminal justice system. For instance, at the Oakland County Jail there were no programs for women for a GED (general education diploma), trusty status, or work assignment, even in the kitchen; the men had all these available to them. If sentenced to probation, little effort was made to help women become employed or educated, and the problems of mothers who were single heads of households were not addressed at all. I was determined to help all the probationers on my caseload, but I admit I placed emphasis on helping the women succeed.

One of the first new cases assigned to me shortly after I was hired was Maria, a petite, forty year old Italian woman. She was the mother of four and never had so much as a traffic ticket before she was arrested and prosecuted for murdering her husband, Bubba. Maria, Bubba and their three-year-old son, Luke, had lived in a two-story bungalow in a quiet, residential, blue-collar neighborhood. Maria's other children were grown and had left home.

I showed my naivete during the initial interview with Maria when I asked, "Why didn't you leave this man if he was a threat and beat you?"

Maria stared at me for a long time, sizing me up before she answered. "When Bubba went to the bar that night, I knew he'd come home drunk again and beat me. He called me a whore, lazy, dumb, whatever it took to build his ego. I've never been any of those things. I've always been a solid Catholic and raised all four of my children to respect the Church. I was tired of the beatings and of Bubba throwing me into the street no matter what the weather, or who was watching, or that I had no clothes or anything. I'd stay with a friend or family 'til Bubba came after me. After the first few times this happened, I stopped reporting the beatings to the police because nothing ever changed. Some beatings even put me in the hospital. But I did run away from bubba three times, and actually filed for divorce twice. I moved out of state, changed my name and got work, waitressing mostly."

Maria paused; her face looked tired and drawn. She began to cry as she continued, "But Bubba always found me, caused trouble at my jobs so that they'd fire me, and then he'd drag me back to our house, only to start the whole thing over."

She stopped again and took a deep breath. "So, like I said, when he went to the bar that night I'd had enough. I went into the basement, loaded his shotgun, sat in a chair facing the front door in the living room, and waited for him to come home. He did at about 2:30 in the morning and I shot him. The only thing I didn't count on was my son waking up and seeing it. I'm..." She lowered her head and cried. "I'm guilty, but I don't regret ridding the world of that man. I do regret that Luke saw it and will have to live with that for the rest of his life, maybe even hate me."

Everyone that I interviewed for the pre-sentence report (the report prepared for the judge which would determine the offender's sentence) confirmed that Bubba was "the basic scum of the earth." Even the police detective assigned to the case said, "It could'na happened to a better person." According to his report, there had been several complaints about Bubba from other people as well, but nothing was ever considered serious enough to put him in jail.

"The author's powerful and entertaining memoir chronicles her 20 year trailblazing career in Michigan corrections. She's a born writer. The Warden Wore Pink is candid and gritty, sometimes heart renting and often hilarious. Miller's lively narrative style transforms the often dreary details of prison life into a compelling drama."

The Durango Herald

"The author places a human face, and a bit of enlightening humor on her descriptions of prison life. Her account is a valuable contribution to both criminology and women's studies."

Maine In Print

"The Warden Wore Pink is an engrossing book about the world of criminals and criminal justice. It presents an often humorous, occasionally tragic, but always illuminating account of prison life and the struggle of an exceptionally gifted woman to forge new frontiers in a previously all-male domain. This is not merely an autobiography of one remarkable woman and her chosen career path. It is also social commentary, full of keen observation regarding crime, justice and humanity."

Corrections Digest

"An important contribution to corrections literature. It brings out the best and worst of the corrections profession. In the end, Miller is successful in her quest to bring humanity to the corrections profession. Her accomplishments in this field will serve the profession well."

Corrections Today

"Despite its coy title, this is an important book. Few of us get inside a maximum security prison. This book is the best look inside the walls that I have seen in print."

Quaker Life