Going Inside a Prison to Witness a Concert of Inmate Songwriters

2025 graduates of the 2025 Beyond Bars songwriting program, with songwriters David and Anna Grace Borné (middle), Michelle Touchstone of CAA, and songwriter/founder Caitlin Cannon.


Sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of the important role music plays in our lives. At other times, it’s patently inescapable. Going behind the walls of a maximum security prison to witness a concert of inmates singing songs they all wrote themselves, that is one of those experiences that brings everything into perspective, in music, and in life.

No doubt the history of prison concerts weighs heavy in the pages of country music. Johnny Cash revitalized his career through his appearances and live albums from Folsom Prison and San Quentin. David Allan Coe, Johnny Paycheck, Merle Haggard, and Dallas Moore did their own prison recordings. But when it’s the inmates on stage, an entirely different set of epiphanous profundities present themselves, and in ways you would never intuitively guess unless you’ve experienced them yourself.

Using songwriting as a way to process through grief and rehabilitate the incarcerated was an idea dreamed up in part by Jennifer Steele, the President and CEO of an organization called The Cultural Arts Alliance (or CAA) based in Walton County, Florida. The CAA produces the annual 30A Songwriters Festival in the Florida panhandle each year, and uses the proceeds of the event to support arts programs throughout the region. One such program exists at the Walton Correctional Institution in DeFuniak, FL.


For multiple years, the CAA has organized and funded a visual arts program at the prison, currently operated by Anna Balfour, who is also a clinical psychologist. But it was after Jennifer Steele witnessed songwriter Caitlin Cannon perform her song “Waiting” at the 30A Songwriters Festival that she got the inspiration to add a songwriting program to the prison curriculum in 2023. Caitlin Cannon’s brother happens to be incarcerated, and “Waiting” was inspired by her brother’s story.

Soon Caitlin Cannon was crafting a 10-day program where inmates would write their own songs, and then perform them at a concert at the end of the program. For years there have been similar programs set up for veterans suffering from PTSD that Caitlin Cannon has participated in. Songwriter Phoebe Hunt who helped in the prison program has worked with these programs for years, as have other songwriters such as Mary Gauthier.

The “Beyond Bars” prison program presents a whole new host of challenges and logistical concerns though, because it can only happen on the inside. Since Caitlin Cannon had experienced many of the rigors of interfacing with the prison system visiting her brother, she was more prepared than most to endure the gates, and guards, and pat downs one must go through to even enter the prison, let alone sit in a room with incarcerated individuals and try to teach them.


Caitlin made sure to wear baggy clothes and no makeup, coining herself “non binary Caitlin” for the exercise. But the gratefulness that the inmates feel that anyone from the outside would be willing to give of their time confers a deep level of respect that would never be crossed. “I’ve never been less objectified by a group of men,” Caitlin Cannon says of her students.

The program starts with a grueling homework assignment. The inmates are tasked to write 20 pages about their lives. Some succeed at filling 20 pages in the supplied notebook with words, and some don’t. But it’s the effort at the exercise that’s most important. Even before a single song lyric is written, the 20 page exercise has inmates evaluating their lives in ways they’ve never done before, thinking about how they got there, and sometimes, if not often discovering for the first time moments of trauma that brought them to this point.

For some, this very first task is where the true transformation occurs. They see their lives as if they’re hovering above them. They start to articulate things they’ve felt for years, but have never known how to express. They unlock repressed memories, and start to realize how certain things have affected their lives and actions. Over a series of other classes and exercises, the newly-ordained songwriters will ultimately break down their 200 pages to one word, and that word is what they’ll use as the starting point to their song.

Caitlin Cannon teaching the Beyond Bars class


The degree of natural talent of the inmates in the program varies obviously, as does the comfort level of standing on a stage or singing into a microphone. Genre varies as well. Though the way Caitlin Cannon teaches the class is in the “Nashville Form” of songwriting, the style can take on whatever aspect best expresses the emotion of the inmate, and song.

Everything you’d expect to witness during a concert full of prisoners failed to occur, and nothing you would anticipate would transpire at a concert full of prisoners unfolded as 18 graduates from the first Beyond Bars class of 2025 took the stage of the Walton County Prison’s chapel to perform their songs on Wednesday, January 15th. The audience was all fellow inmates, along with a few privileged and pre-screened observers were allowed in as visitors.

The 2025 1st Quarter Beyond Bars graduates (“Chevy” on far left, front row)

There is more anger, envy, spite, and judgement in songwriting on the outside, and less gratefulness, forgiveness, and taking of personal responsibility than the group of graduating prisoners expressed over the next few hours.

This first class of 2025 was special, since it was the first one not taught by songwriter Catilin Cannon directly, but by husband and wife duo David Borné and Anna Grace Borné. The concert started with an inmate named “Chevy” reading an incredibly heartfelt letter he wrote in thanks to the CAA, David and Anna Borné, Caitlin Cannon, and God (see bottom). It set the mood for what would be one incredible moment after another.

“Chevy” spoke about how it had taken three incarcerations and 23 years, but he’d finally found healing through the program. “They taught us how to trust again. We realized we are survivors, not victims,” he said in part. Chevy would perform his song later where he intimated about attempting suicide four times, and how he’d been molested as a child.

The two themes that kept appearing in the inmates songs was faith in God, and family. One prisoner named “George” who is known for being one of the shyest individuals in the prison performed a song called “Daddy’s Love” to huge applause from his fellow inmates. A songwriter named “Q” sang about witnessing the abuse of his mother by his stepfather, and how that memory had haunted him in his life. “Like an elephant that bumps his head…” his song said.

Another song was called “I Love My Mama,” and the big finale where all the performing prisoners got on stage and sang together was called “I Miss My Grandma.” Some prisoners performed acapella. Another improvised at beat machine from a table. Others performed to basic pre-recorded tracks. The Walton County Prison does have a praise band that is allowed instruments, including guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard, and some of the inmates performed in the full band setup.

One inmate named “Rock Star” has taken the class all six times, and is sort of like a teacher’s aid. He’s also in the prison praise band with “Cheese,” who worked as the sound engineer.

“Rock Star”

Just as astounding as the songs themselves was the reaction and reception of the audience. You can attend open mics and club shows with a less forgiving audience than the one assembled to witness these amateur songwriters with sometimes little or no musical talent or training perform. The more nervous, and perhaps the less naturally talented the inmate was, the more encouragement they received from the crowd, and the louder the applause was afterwards.

In an environment where showing vulnerability or revealing deeply personal matters can be outright dangerous or a liability, moments of honesty were surprisingly rewarded by the audience. The more honest the songwriters were and the deeper they dug into their consciousness for inspiration, the more respect they received.

There is less forgiveness and understanding in a middle school environment, where many of the experiences revealed within the songs would be used for fodder for bullying. But here, they were seen as a badge of courage. This also inspires others to step up and to be honest to themselves and others about their personal trauma.

Every performer received a standing ovation from the front rows, and some from the entire audience, while everyone received raucous applause. Though the concert will only every exist within the four walls of that prison chapel, the men who took the stage became stars in their community.


As Beyond Bars instructor David Borné said at a showcase on Sunday, January 19th after the prison concert at an event held during the 30A Songwriters Festival,

“The peace, love, and support they give for each other in this arena … words are never going to do this program justice, because it breaks all of your conceptions of what you think reality is. These guys are taking things they’ve never spoken about in their life and they’re putting them in songs, and at the end of the 10 days, they’re getting in from of 200 inmates. People that have done things you don’t ever want to dream about, and they show this vulnerability and they’re uplifted by their fellow inmates. It shows that you can change your mind. You can repent. It is real. It’s happening in this prison because of this program.”

But even amid all the camaraderie, healing, joy, and tears, it was inescapable that you were in a maximum security prison. This wasn’t like Johnny Cash at San Quentin, where Cash was the one on stage putting himself in charge and actively speaking out against the guards and warden. Throughout the concert, “counts” had to be done, meaning nobody could leave their seat. When the prison staff couldn’t get the count right, everyone was forced out of the chapel, and into the yard for an official count, interrupting the show.

Incidentally, since the last songwriter class in the summer of 2024, the Walton Correctional Institution had experienced an escape. An inmate with outside landscaping privileges walked off the property, and was picked up by a friend so they could go visit the inmate’s dying mother in St. Augustine, FL. They were eventually caught, with the escaped prisoner receiving five additional years on his sentence, and the accomplice receiving a 15-year sentence of his own.

Though the “counts” that occurred at regular intervals were just part of the rhythm of prison life, it also felt like the prison was letting the inmates and everyone else know that despite the spirit in the air and the music being performed, you were still on the inside.

But despite being in a prison and being surrounded by inmates, the fear you expect to feel as someone on the outside is non-existent.

“I kept waiting to feel afraid, or scared, or that I was threatened in any way. It never happened,” says instructor Anna Grace Borné about her initial experiences in the prison. “I felt very safe. I felt I was in a sacred place, and that goodness was awaiting us. Even when I was along in a room with 20 hardened criminals, I never felt any fear. I knew it was exactly where I needed to be.”

David Borné & Anna Grace Borné speaking and performing at a 30A Songwriters Fest event showcasing the Beyond Bars program.


If you present the idea of spending time and money to teach incarcerated criminals songwriting to most people in the outside world, it would seem like a gross misappropriation of resources. But after witnessing the prison concert, hearing the songs, and seeing the transformational power of the program, it becomes evident that teaching inmates songwriting might be the most financially efficient and cost effective effort at rehabilitation that is possible.

“It’s trick therapy,” instructor David Borné likes to say.

We think of songs as something that people write to entertain others. But the experiment of having prisoners write songs as part of their rehabilitation illustrates how the best songs are written for the writer themselves. If anyone else pays attention, or they end up becoming commercially viable or popular in any capacity, that’s a bonus.


When the songwriting instructors were challenged on if some of the inmates might be taking the class to get into the good graces of the parole board, that idea was shot down. In fact, for some of the participants, this isn’t even possible since they’re serving life sentences.

Granted, participating in the songwriting program is a privilege that must be earned, similar to how those that get to attend the concert must earn that right through good behavior. So you’re getting the best apples as opposed to the most problematic cases. Students are hand selected, and there’s a long list of inmates wanting and wishing to get into the program. All of the students are already living in dorms as opposed to cells with the rest of the prison population. But the results speak for themselves.


In the summer of 2024 when Caitlin Cannon taught the 5th songwriting class at the Walton County Prison, she also taught the four new professional songwriters to become instructors. The songwriters went through the program themselves with the inmates, and then also participated in meetings and discussions before and after the classes and session. They in turn now will start teaching their own classes so the program can be expanded to running a songwriting class each quarter, or four times a year.

Along with David Borné and Anna Grace Borné who taught the first class of 2025, London-born songwriter Jessica Sharman, and Georgia-born songwriter, fiddle player Wyatt Espalin will be teaching the next class in the spring. Incidentally, the program is also a way to support working songwriters who also receive immense fulfillment, gratitude, and inspiration from teaching the course, including writing songs themselves through the course flow.

Beyond Bars teachers/instructors Wyatt Espalin and Jessica Sharman


“When I first walked into the prison, the wonderment, the joy, the excitement they had to see us all, their desire to change and to grow, and to learn was really astonishing,” says Jessica Sharman. “I just had this realization that wonder can’t be imprisoned. And their hope and their joy, and their capacity to keep being curious and learning was infinite.”

Wyatt Espalin adds, “The forgiveness that it takes for someone to go that deep within themselves to mine something, and create something with that, I just felt like a lot of these gentlemen had gotten over a hurdle of forgiveness for themselves, to hold their head up, to have a desire to create something, knowing that some of them will never get out of prison … so choosing to create as opposed to destroy further was really empowering. I took from that, that it had to be a level of forgiveness for themselves, and I was envious of that.”

And now that multiple inmates have been through the class multiple times, the CAA is looking to launch a Songwriting 201 course at the prison this summer, with Caitlin Cannon once again crafting the curriculum, and teaching instructors. Even further, with the success that the Walton Correctional Institution and CAA have experienced with the program, the hope is that it can be expanded to other prisons and systems throughout the United Sates.

Caitlin Cannon


“It is a gift that I’ve been given, and that I wasn’t expecting,” Caitlin Cannon said during the Beyond Bars showcase at 30A Fest. “I can’t tell you how impactful it has been to me in regards to having my own life changed as a result of getting to work with these men … who are brave and wanting to come forward and change, wanting to reform with so much grace and presence. It’s so hard to explain the impact that its having.”

Since no cameras and no cell phones are allowed aside from the warden’s secretary snapping photos, what happened at the Walton Correctional Institution on January 15th, 2025 will only exist in the memories of the people who were there. Though in some respects, that’s one of the reasons it’s so magical, as are all the concerts that the songwriting class culminates in.

But the most magical thing is the transformation that the inmates—or songwriters—go through. Can songwriting truly rehabilitate the world’s prison populations? Perhaps to some that seems like a fanciful notion. But as Walton County Jail inmate “Chevy” said in his speech about the instructors, and about his experience that brought many of his fellow inmates to tears,

“The pure light that radiates within them, the trust they share and earn, the ways they have changed our lives; helping behold who we are, is truly amazing! I know they sure impacted mine. And although they said they aren’t therapists, nor this therapy, it has been the most therapeutic moment of my existence.”


Caitlin Cannon is getting ready to release her new album Love Addict in 2025. To learn more about the the Cultural Arts Alliance (CAA) of Walton County, Florida and to donate, go to culturalartsalliance.com.

Letter from “Chevy”



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