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By Zoe Sandvig|Published Date: September 18, 2009
Suzanne Johnson swirls around in the salon chair. A clip restrains some wayward waves on top of her head, the rest of her tresses falling in just-straightened rows down her back. She’s a pretty 34. Long lashes, full pink lips, rosy cheeks. A strange contrast to her drab sweatshirt and jeans, the final reminder of her last day as Oregon inmate number 16047521.
 “My hands are sweaty,” she says as she removes the plastic cape and steps down from the barber chair.
The three other women in the room—two of whom are prison hair stylists—gaze curiously at her. Perhaps wishing they were in her shoes. Perhaps dreading the day it will be their turn.
One of the women cheers her on: “Enjoy your freedom!”
The three words resound down the prison hallway as Suzanne steps out into the sunlight, just 20 minutes away from her release from Coffee Creek Correctional Facility on March 30, 2009.
The Johnsons are an upper-middle class family from Portland’s east side. As expected, Steve and Dee’s eldest and youngest daughters both shot a straight line to college, careers, and marriage. Suzanne got pregnant out-of-wedlock at 18 and moved out of the house.
“I was the black sheep of the family,” she admits bluntly.
Bounding from one unhealthy relationship to the next, Suzanne found herself pregnant again at 25. A short-lived marriage and a series of disheartening events sent Suzanne to the only place she felt she could succeed: video poker. An early win of $1,500 hooked her.
Soon the losing caught up with the winning, and Suzanne began forging checks from her employer to fund her addiction. At first, it was just $50 here, $100 there. I was just borrowing it, she justified.
“I knew I had a problem, but I didn’t know how to stop.”
Her answer came the day after Thanksgiving 2006 when the cops tracked her down.
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