Last week I got a letter from my friend, Deondra Martin. Please read and share her story. Sign petition, and help us bring home 

My name is Deondra Martin, I am 31 years old. I've been incarcerated for 8 years and Im currently serving a life sentence.
August 27th 2012, my husband had to be on his first day of curfew at 7 pm. I was out shopping at the mall with one of my sister's, having a good time, until I got a phone call that was automatically aggressive. Him fussing and cursing asking me "where was I" and "why am I not home", like it was me on curfew. He kept calling and texting for me to get there and making threats.I made it my business to leave and head home because I always tried to satisfy  him. Before his curfew started I went weeks without him being home, him coming in for 5-10 minutes then go back into the streets. Cheating with multiple women, staying in houses/hotel rooms with other women and bringing me home diseases. I stayed through it all because I loved him, and  I was under the false impression that sometimes love hurts. All the same token he made sure still regardless of where he was or how long he was gone to control me and keep up with every move I made. A Lot of times he would rather call the house phone instead of my cell phone so he could make sure I was in the house. But because he had a curfew I was expected to have the same. 
I made it home, I went straight to our back room and threw my bags on the bed along with my phone's and walked back out the room trying to avoid an argument. He instantly picked up one of my phones and started going through it. He walked into the hallway, peaked his head around the corner (because I went into the living room) to call me back in the room. I went back in, even though I dreaded to. And at that moment I didn't know me walking back through my room door would change my life forever. Soon as I stepped back in the room he was waiting at the door anxiously for me. He instantly grabbed me by my ponytail and started choking me while trying to be discreet and quiet because my mom was nearby. I was scared and at that point I was tired of bruises and black eyes and wanted him away from me. My reactions weren't malicious, premeditated, or any kind of ill-will, but a reaction out of fear, me being afraid because I knew the outcomes and how far things could go. So instinct, survival mode naturally kicked in. I never fought back until that day, but it's my regret and I wish everyday I didn't. Which in it's self is sad, because if I hadn't then what if he was the one to of went to far that time?
I picked up the knife that was right there in arm's reach and I jabbed it at him. I wasn't looking at where I stabbed him. I honestly thought it was his arm or something and it was only once so I just knew it couldn't of been to bad. He instantly stopped and I dropped the knife and ran out the room with him trailing behind me. When we got into the living room he fell but got right back up. He walked a few more feet and fell again, inside my mom's room door, that's when I knew something was wrong. I instantly started to panic, I was afraid, worried, shocked, hysterical, just all over the place. My mom called 911, I called 911. I kept walking into the doorway crying checking on him, but my mom yelled at me to get back and out the room. She didn't want me to see him like that, I was already falling apart. So all I could do was keep calling 911 for help. I tried to speed them up. I kept telling them to please hurry please, please. It took them forever it seemed like, time was moving so slow. They finally got there and took him out into the ambulance. I was automatically a suspect because I was his wife. I kept telling the detectives I didn't know what happened and that I didn't do anything because in my mind he would be ok. There was countless other times where the roles where reversed and we both hide it from the world. I asked them can I go use the bathroom. I panicked and went and got the knife and hid it. I was scared and everything was coming down to fast, reality, the unknown, possibilities that I didn't know of. I also knew when it came down to it, I just knew that he would cover for me and tell the police that he didn't know who did it, like he did 2 other times with girls prior to me. I was his wife so I knew he would cover and protect me like I always protected and covered for him. That was soley the reason why I lied and tried to hid the knife. 
They arrested me and put me in the back of the police car. As soon as the door closed on me I instantly started crying and praying talking to God saying over and over "please don't let him die please don't let him die, God why did you let me do that". I wanted to know if he was ok. I was devastated. I was concerned. I didn't even think of a camera being inside the car, to be honest it wouldn't of mattered even if someone had told me there was. I didn't know that until I went to trial. But my reactions after that moment up until I found out the truth wasn't of someone who intentionally tried to hurt or kill someone, but it was of a person who just wanted to be able to get away, someone who mistakenly tried to survive another night of abuse. I was concerned and worried for him throughout the whole time. I kept asking detectives "is he ok, please let him be ok, I just want to know he's alright." They were telling me he was still alive but I needed to talk. My only concern was wanting to know was he ok. I didn't want to talk to them. I actually didn't trust the detectives that were questioning me and strongly disliked them due to an incident I witnessed when I was little. That was injust and racist. Then, certain comments they were making to me made me feel like the situation at hand was a joke and they didn't have one inch of empathy for either party. They were just ready for me to say I did it, I'm cold blooded, and I'm ready to be judged and locked up...when in all actuality I was completely​ innocent. After I found out he passed I almost fainted. A female officer at the county had to catch me because they informed me in the hallway. I was so devasted and in such disbelief, also hurt and in a state of shock. I was a wreck. Not because I'm locked up or my life was over(all those thoughts came later on) but because I couldn't believe I had just killed my husband. I felt like the worst person even though I knew deep down in my heart and from the depths of my soul that I didn't mean to hurt him let alone kill him. I felt so sorry that I did that to him. I can't remember exactly what order but all I know is at one point I was out of it, and all I could say was "I want to go lay down". To them me saying that, they acted as if I didn't care, but in actuality that's all I could do, because at that point I felt dead. I felt helpless. I felt a void, a emptiness inside me. I went and cried myself to sleep. 
My next interrogation I came clean and told what happened, even still I tried to protect him by not making him look so bad or making him look like a monster. That's how deep my love is and how far my loyalty will go, try to protect people even if they harmed me. But I can't keep protecting my abuser. I have to protect me and fight for me, I have to fight for my kids. And that's by using my voice and speaking my truth. So 11 years later, I've finally been able to lay my demons to rest and tell my story, the real story. He had such control over all of me to the point where I still was under his hold, even after he passed, even after I was sentenced. I know now that love isn't anything remotely close to what we had, and this false loyalty I still was giving him, by not telling the truth so the world didn't see the monster under his beautiful smile. 

 I made my first bond hearing and I stayed out on bond for almost 3 years. My attorney was very sloppy and only did it for the money, which I couldn't see it then because I was so desperate for help. I got a attorney in my same county that I didn't know was a mistake. The whole time I stayed out on bond, my attorney would always be last minute with me about everything. It could be a day or two before my court date, he would call me in to get certain information verses months ahead of time to be well prepared. My trial started May 3rd, lasted Monday through that Friday. I was giving a offer of "20 do 10". My family, my friends, even someone on the deceased side tried to get me to take that 10. I didn't, because I trusted in my attorney and I believed the false hope he gave me. He told me he knew he could beat it and that they weren't going to want to convict a pregnant woman (I was 36 weeks pregnant during trial). He misled me and misrepresented me. It was alot of things he could have done that gave me a better outcome. But my whole trial he acted like he was ready for it to be over and done with, even made a statement to my family and I in the back "well I'm going home tonight so what are y'all gone do". He made the decision of putting only a murder charge and not guilty option on the table for the jury to decide.Im not aware that if he would have put Felony murder, manslaughter, or not guilty option on the table for the jury to decide, that I could have possibly been found guilty for manslaughter ,as worse case, and not just murder ,as worse case. But instead he only put Felony Murder and not guilty option for the jury to choose. He basically told me that if he put those two options it would be not guilty. Because they're not going to want to convict a pregnant women. If I had an attorney who was honest with me, I know now I would have took the original offer. May 8th 2012, I lost trial and was sentenced right then and there with a life sentence with parole plus 5 years. The mother and father walked up to the judge and said that they didn't want me to do life just give me the 10, it was too late! They lost a loved one, but the whole time they still knew I didn't mean to harm him, they state that up until this day. I don't feel like my trial was just. For many reasons. His dad worked for the city for almost his whole life. His mom once told me that she was very good friends with Craig Frasier the head DA on my case. Because she stated she would go try and talk to him to help me out. Then people that were picked on my jury list half were hand picked by a lady with the DA that's married into the victim family. Through all of this my attorney never tried to see any of it, he let me down.    

 The people in that courtroom treated me as if I was some cold-blooded killer. Not a single person on my side attempted to try and empathize with the situation. I had a daughter who I had to keep living for. But not once did they think about all the pain, hurt, physical and verbal abuse I endured. The black eyes I carried around frequently, the busted lip, hair pulled out, scratches, bruises. What about this innocent child that's in the middle, who already lost a father, just take her mother away too?
I didn't know there was a such thing as battered woman syndrome until I was diagnosed with having it due to me being evaluated in prison by a battered woman expert. Even now for my voice to be heard I'm still finding myself trying to find ways to protect my abuser while writing this letter. I use to make so many excuses for him. Because I loved him with everything I had despite it all. I never called the police on him. Plus I grew up around people who didn't believe in calling the police "you have to deal with your own problems". Growing up I had a hard time trusting people. I watched things happen and there was no justice. Chris and I had a toxic relationship, one that people make a mockery of today. The toxic traits where insecurity, distrust, disloyalty, self hate. We both confused this for love. We were both young. The stress, fighting, and tears overcame us. If a person wants to cheat, no one but themselves can change that. If a person wants to put you last you can't make them make you priority. If a person doesn't love you correctly you can't make them. If a person is aggressive, you can't make them gentle. You can't change people, but that didn't stop me from trying. Only they can change themselves and they have to want to. I was blinded by love. And back then I was young and stupid because I thought a man putting his hands on you has to mean he loves you, right? But when verbal abuse turn physical, I had a hard time telling law enforcement or anyone who I thought would cause harm to him. So I stayed silent. 
I'm a victim and a survivor of Domestic Violence. 
I'm one of many women who fought with physical and verbal abuse.the only difference is, I'm a victim doing a life sentence and other women are still victims dealing with it. But I don't want to play the victim card here. Yes, I am a victim of Domestic Violence. However, I'm taking my power back and telling my raw, uncut, no hiding, or protecting truth and now I feel so empowered as a strong woman!!!