Cyntoia Brown was convicted in the 2004 murder of a real estate agent

Her legal team says she was a victim of sex trafficking

Tennessee has unusually harsh life sentences for teens

NASHVILLE, Tenn. – Cyntoia Brown will leave the Tennessee Prison for Women next week after serving 15 years of a life sentence for the 2004 murder of a Nashville real estate agent.

She was 16 at the time of her crime. Earlier this year, then-Gov. Bill Haslam took the rare step of commuting her sentence, paving the way for her Aug. 7 release.

Brown is now a 31-year-old woman who has been institutionalized for more than half her life. Before she shot a stranger who picked her up at an east Nashville fast food restaurant one warm August evening, she spent two years in facilities operated by the Tennessee Department of Children's Services.

In the years leading to her release, Brown's complicated story has served to rally celebrities and lawmakers, juvenile justice reformers and critics of Tennessee's unusually harsh life sentences for teens, those working to expose child sex trafficking and others highlighting racial inequities in the justice system. Brown is African American.

Next week, Brown will finally have the chance to decide how to tell her own story, on her own terms. She declined through her attorneys to comment for this story.

Her longtime inner circle – including her attorneys, friends and family – also have declined to comment, citing Brown's desire for privacy.

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Kate Watkins, Brown's college teacher and executive director of Lipscomb University's LIFE program, which brings college courses to women in prison, said Brown's coming release made her "thankful and grateful that this story is not going to be wasted, that this young, brave, passionate woman would take this pain and use it for the good of others."

"It makes me so hopeful," she said. "I am so confident in her, absolutely confident."

Brown is not entirely a free woman. Under the terms of her release, she will report to a parole officer regularly for the next 10 years. She must hold down a job, perform community service and participate in counseling.

The crime

Brown was sentenced to life in prison in the shooting death of 43-year-old Johnny Allen.

Allen was found dead of a single shot to the back of his head. Brown has never denied pulling the trigger.

Brown said she was sent by her then-24-year-old boyfriend and pimp to make money. According to Brown, Allen picked her up at a Nashville Sonic restaurant, bought her food and then took her to his home. She said he wanted to have sex with her, and intimidated her by pointing out the guns he owned and his experience as a military sharpshooter.

Brown shot Allen as he lay in bed, saying she feared he was reaching for a gun.

Allen's father suffered a fatal heart attack shortly after his son's death. In a parole hearing last year, Allen's supporters blamed Brown for causing two deaths and noted Allen was no longer alive to tell his side of the story. They don't believe Allen propositioned Brown, only that he was trying to help her stay off the streets.

At 16, Brown was given a life sentence. In Tennessee, a sentence of life requires a minimum 51 years behind bars before being considered for parole. Tennessee has the longest minimum sentence in the country for teens and adults who receive a life sentence.

Eight years later, in 2012, a U.S. Supreme Court ruling found sentencing juveniles to life in prison without the possibility of parole was unconstitutional.

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The ruling does not apply in Tennessee because a life sentence includes a possibility of parole after 51 years. Juvenile justice reformers call it a "virtual life sentence." At least 185 people are now serving life sentences in Tennessee prisons for felony murders committed as teens.

Brown, officially known as inmate No. 00410593 behind bars, earned her associate degree in 2015 and her bachelor's degree in the Tennessee Prison for Women in May.

She has served as a mentor and advocate for women in prison, herding reluctant female inmates into college classes and leading efforts to bring in education programs for those with limited English, Watkins said.

In part, Haslam cited Brown's academic work in prison as a factor in granting clemency, citing "the extraordinary steps Ms. Brown has taken to rebuild her life."

In a statement issued after Haslam granted her clemency, Brown credited Watkins and others at Lipscomb for "opening a whole new world for me."

Haslam also called Tennessee's sentencing laws requiring juveniles to serve at least 51 years "too harsh."

Efforts in Tennessee to reform sentencing laws for children have thus far failed to pass the Legislature for the last two consecutive years.

A troubled childhood

By 2004, Brown already had several brushes with Tennessee's criminal justice system.

Raised in Clarksville by her adoptive mother, Brown was arrested for theft at the age of 12. She was placed in an alternative school system.

Months later, she was charged with assaulting a teacher. Brown would spend more than a year at the now-defunct Woodland Hills detention center, which held youth convicted of felonies in a secure Nashville facility surrounded by fences and barbed wire.

After her release, Brown returned home for a short time, before she ran away. In Nashville she met a 24-year-old man nicknamed "Kut Throat." Brown said he forced her to work as a prostitute, and physically and sexually abused her. The night she killed Allen, Kut Throat sent her out to make money by selling sex, Brown said.

Sametria Hayes, a childhood friend who attended ninth grade with Brown, remembered her as a "normal kid," who was "a little reserved." Hayes has followed Brown's case but is no longer in touch with her. She remembers how shocked she felt as a teenager learning of her friend's arrest and conviction.

"It was kind of shocking to me to know that a childhood friend could be sitting right next to you in class and could be a victim of sex trafficking," Hayes said.

Hayes said Brown's story opened her eyes to the plight of child sex trafficking. An amateur songwriter, Hayes wrote a song about sex trafficking and performed it at rallies demanding Brown's release.

Circle of support

In 2011, California-based filmmaker Dan Birman released the documentary "Me Facing Life: Cyntoia's Story," which chronicled Brown's transfer to adult court and her life in prison.

The film received worldwide attention, including from Charles Bone, a prominent Nashville attorney whose practice focuses primarily on business law, negotiating mergers and acquisitions for high-profile companies.

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He agreed to represent Brown pro bono.

By then, Brown had a committed group of advocates. Kathy Sinback, one of Brown's original defense attorneys, now serves as administrator for Davidson County Juvenile Court. Sinback has visited Brown in prison every two weeks for years.

Preston Shipp, a former state prosecutor who fought Brown's appeal then got to know her when he was a teacher in prison, has advocated on her behalf. Shipp has said that getting to know Brown in prison prompted him to make a career change, resigning as a prosecutor to work for the Board of Professional Responsibility.

Juvenile Judge Sheila Calloway also has advocated on Brown's behalf.

But Brown's legal appeals made little headway.

In 2016, The Tennessean teamed with Birman and Independent Lens, the documentary arm of PBS, to produce "Sentencing Children," a seven-part series highlighting Brown's case and Tennessee's unusually harsh sentences for teens convicted of murder.

A local television station also highlighted Brown's story.

Celebrities took notice, too.

"Did we somehow change the definition of #JUSTICE along the way??" superstar singer Rihanna wrote on her Instagram page. "Cause..... Something is horribly wrong when the system enables these rapists and the victim is thrown away for life! To each of you responsible for this child's sentence I hope to God you don't have children, because this could be your daughter being punished ..."

Brown's story exploded on social media, with other celebrities including Kim Kardashian West and LeBron James speaking out on her behalf. Hundreds of thousands of people retweeted and responded, signed petitions and contacted the office of Haslam, the former governor.

The public outcry focused largely on the role of sex trafficking in Brown's case. When she was convicted in 2005, minors could still be convicted on prostitution charges. Brown's case became a rallying cry in the age or #MeToo for justice for teenage victims of sex trafficking.

The national attention did not persuade all members of the state Board of Parole, which split on its recommendation to the governor over granting Brown parole in 2018.

Freedom approaches

In January, Brown was sitting in the prison's visiting room when her lawyers walked in with the life-changing news.

"You're getting out in August," Bone said as soon as he saw her.

Her reaction was immediate.

"She just lit up with a joy I've never seen before," Sinback said.

A member of the legal team asked Brown if she was disappointed it would take another seven months before she was free.

"She said, 'Are you crazy? I was supposed to get out when I was 67 years old,' " Sinback said.

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