Everyone said to leave my man when he was jailed for 19 years – we married behind bars but had to wait to consummate it

MELODY Lorenzo, 35, works in the public sector and lives in California with her husband Anthony, 36.

“Waiting for the prison bus to arrive, my heart was racing. After 19 years behind bars, my husband was finally coming home.

Anthony and I met in 2001, when we were 12 and 13. He was my best friend’s cousin and we’d hang out in the park and chat.

We were just kids, but I was drawn to him and we became boyfriend and girlfriend.

Then, in 2005, our young love faced a crisis I couldn’t have imagined. Anthony, then 16, was in a car with a friend who opened fire on a group of gang members. It was a classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the fact he hadn’t pulled the trigger, Anthony was charged with attempted murder and gang-related offences, and was sentenced to nearly 20 years in prison.

I was just 15 and deeply shocked that my boyfriend had been caught up in something so dark.

Family and friends said I shouldn’t put my life on hold until his release.

And Anthony told me I needed to walk away, too, but I knew I loved him and that him being behind bars wasn’t going to change how I felt.

Resolving to stay together for as long as it took for him to be released, we kept our relationship alive with daily calls and letters.

As soon as I learned to drive, I’d spend every weekend driving up to 11 hours to visit him. Seeing him in handcuffs behind glass was so painful.

It took him time to adjust to his new ‘home’. He began to focus on improving himself, taking education classes and joining self-help programmes. I was proud of him.

For the first three years, our visits were behind glass with no physical contact. Later, when he moved to a different prison, we were allowed brief contact – just a hug or kiss at the beginning and end of each visit.

Bewildered family and friends couldn’t understand why I was still with him. I didn’t care what people thought, though.

Bewildered family and friends couldn’t understand why I was still with him

I loved him. At the start of 2009, when I was 20, Anthony proposed, and I said yes without hesitation.

It required reams of paperwork to get permission from the state, but on April 11, a registrar officiated the short ceremony in a room in the prison.

I wore a simple white dress, while Anthony had to wear his prison uniform, and we had a few friends as witnesses.

Obviously, it wasn’t the wedding I’d dreamed of, but it wasn’t about having my dream day, it was about solidifying our commitment. When we were pronounced ‘husband and wife’, my heart felt so full.

We were allowed to have a few photos taken, but then I had to go home – there was no party, no consummating our marriage.

However, from then on, we were allowed conjugal visits every few months, where we could be alone and intimate.

Those private moments meant everything and they helped us keep the vows we’d made.

Standing by Anthony all those years was tough in ways nobody I knew could understand.

Prison life is isolating, even for those on the outside. I went to weddings and watched other couples live their lives. But I never considered another relationship.

Finally, in January 2024, after numerous delays and setbacks, Anthony was released. Right up until I saw him stepping off the prison bus, I could scarcely believe it was happening.

I had to wait in my car, but when he opened the door and got inside, we just held one another tightly. I felt like I was dreaming.

Life outside has been a whirlwind of new experiences for Anthony. He’d never used a smartphone, and busy places felt overwhelming at first.

Our journey has been a difficult one, but it has made us stronger and more grateful for every day together

We’ve had to find our own normality and routine as a couple, despite the fact we’ve been married for 15 years.

Now, we’re planning our ‘real’ wedding in Hawaii this April, and I’m pregnant with our first child. After all the years of waiting, it’s surreal to think we’ll soon be parents.

We love to go for walks and talk about the future without the shadow of prison looming over us. Our journey has been a difficult one, but it has made us stronger and more grateful for every day together.”

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