Khanika Harper is a former psychiatric nurse who founded Justice For All, a St. Louis-based organization that fights for criminal justice reform and provides free or low-cost support services to the families of people in Missouri state prisons. Through this work, she met the partners of incarcerated men who were looking to get married but couldn’t find an officiant willing to perform the ceremony inside a prison. So, in 2023, she completed online training with American Marriage Ministries and was ordained as a nondenominational minister. Harper has since married more than a dozen couples inside the state’s correctional facilities. Guiding them through their relationship highs and lows, she’s gained wisdom on how people navigate love in prison and adapt to the challenges they face in the system.
In this field, I see so many things that are dark. I need — not want — I need to do something to brighten the room. I also love love. It’s very fulfilling to be someone who helps facilitate these ceremonies and gives those who might not have access to being married the opportunity.
The Missouri Department of Corrections has ceremonies every March and September, so those months are wedding season at the DOC. Each season, my organization gets 25 or 30 applications total from different facilities.
I think it’s important to have a sense of openness, and so we’ll officiate between any two people, but so far, all the requests have been from girlfriends looking to get married to their boyfriend or fiancé inside. I haven’t yet had a request for a wedding inside a women’s prison, but I look forward to doing one someday.
On the way to the big day
The [wedding planning] process starts with a bride filling out the application on our website. We ask for basic information like the couple’s full names, their partner’s prison ID number and the location of the ceremony. Next, we have a free consultation. (Our only fees are what we charge for the commute to and from the prison, which can range from about $100 to $200 depending on how far away the facility is.) During the phone or video calls, which are usually about half an hour, I try to get a feel for the couple, get a bit of their love story and go over any expectations that they may have.
Consultations can be with either person or both. The guys tend to be pretty laid back. I’ve had a few who want to take the reins, but usually the bride is the one with the questions, running the consultation. In the event that both want to participate, the bride and I will have a joint call with the groom.
We always go over the dress code, which is still strictly enforced regardless of what the occasion is. A lot of [women] get married in regular jeans and a T-shirt, but some brides want it to be as special as possible. I have gone virtually dress shopping quite a few times with individuals. Lace is a no-no, and I check for skin, cleavage, tightness and shortness.
I also make sure the couple has all of the information that they need to obtain their marriage license. I let them know that the bride has to travel — often hours upon hours — to the county where the prison is located to get the marriage license from the Recorder of Deeds office. The license is valid for 30 days, so I always encourage brides to get it before their wedding day.
The groom has responsibilities as well: He has to fill out an application with the chaplain. Since he can’t be present at the Recorder of Deeds office, he fills out an absentee affidavit to show that he is who he is and that he wants to do this.
The closer we get to the wedding day, the more calls are coming in from the brides. Brides are brides. They get the jitters. They get antsy. So I take a lot of calls. If they want advice about their vows, I typically encourage them to find inspiration through music, from a poem or from scripture — it’s different for everyone.
On the big day, I have a packet for each couple that I take into the prison. It will have their application, any vows and my speech. And I always keep all of my credentials in there because you never know.
Thankfully, I have not had any of my brides turned away on the day of their ceremony, and we want to keep it that way. Maybe on a regular visit day, but of all the days, not this one.
Rules, rules and more rules
The most frustrating part of the process is the restrictions these couples have to endure on what should be such a beautiful day, knowing that they can’t even share a slice of cake or exchange a gift.
It’s different when you’re [officiating weddings] out here in the free world versus for the Department of Corrections — there are a lot more rules and procedures that you don’t have to deal with when Jane and John Doe want to get married and they live down the street.
Outside, anyone can officiate ceremonies as long as they’ve been ordained according to their state’s rules. But within the DOC, you have to submit credentials verifying that you’ve been ordained and are able to officiate at the prison. You have to fill out paperwork, including a request for clergy visitation and an access-to-facilities form. And you have to go through criminal background checks.
Typically, the only [items] that a bride can bring into the prison are her ring, his ring and the original receipt. Rings have to be under $100 for the males, and they have to be a band — no rocks, no diamonds.
For the most part, there’s no food, so couples can’t have a reception. She can’t bring in a bouquet or a corsage. Brides can come with witnesses, but those people have to be on their fiancé’s visiting list prior to the ceremony. It’s not like your neighbor or whoever can just come on down.
Wedding days typically start around 9 o’clock in the morning. I try to get there early so that I can have all my paperwork in order. After I make it through the checkpoints — they body scan you and all of that — I go into the visiting room where the ceremonies are held.
In the visiting rooms, the tables and the chairs tend to sit fairly low so no one can pass anything. On their wedding days, couples can usually sit side-by-side and hold hands the whole time. It’s more contact than usual, so a good visit.
Everyone is married in one room but at separate times. The chaplain will come over and say, “Hey, it’s time for your couple.” Then we get up, we go over [to the podium] and do our thing.
Each ceremony takes maybe 15 minutes.
If they allotted for a prayer, we do a prayer. I try to customize the vows, but for the most part, it’s “in sickness and health, to love and to cherish,” and all that. Then they do [their personal] vows, exchange rings and kiss.
I’ve had both brides and grooms cry during the vows. And one bride was like, “I’m so nervous. Can you turn around?” So I just turned around and faced the wall and she spoke from the heart. It was beautiful, but I was like, I know this picture is going to look crazy.
After the groom kisses the bride, I have them sign the gift that I bring them, which is a customized marriage certificate. I like to provide them something personalized that the bride can take home since she can’t take her husband home.
While they’re signing the certificate, I’m filling out the marriage license. Then the visiting room photographer — usually another incarcerated individual — takes the pictures the couple paid for either through the commissary or the visiting room vending machine. Newlyweds can’t kiss during their photos, and their hands have to be visible at all times.
Cold feet and slow burns
There is a difference between the number of couples who apply to be married versus those who actually jump the broom. Last season, just out of one facility, we had 11 applications and only two couples got married. Typically it’s the groom having a change of heart, but there are some brides who change their minds.
I have had couples call their wedding off hours before, like while I’ve been driving for three hours on the highway to get to the prison. But I usually have other weddings at that facility. When I get there, I’m like, “Hey, we can scratch one off. She just called.”
Surprisingly, the brides who are over-the-top excited are usually the ones who don’t get married. Meanwhile, the couples who are really thriving are the ones who were nonchalant about the wedding.
One bride didn’t even know it was her wedding day, which I found to be hilarious. She was like, “Oh, is it? Oh, OK! I’ll be there.” This was one of my favorite couples. They were in their 30s and best friends. They knew each other prior to his incarceration, from running around together when they were kids. They hadn’t dated, but found love within one another after he went to prison.
You could see their best friend connection just by how they were joking and playing. I don’t remember what she said, but he cried silent tears during her vows. She stopped in the middle and was like, “Are you crying?!” He was like, “No!” Then she giggled and went on with her vows.
Through the fire
What amazed me when I first started officiating prison weddings was the sheer joy and love people share, even within the parameters. These couples can’t even embrace for longer than a few seconds at a time. Between that and phone restrictions, I wondered how these relationships were thriving.
I’ve come to believe that it’s because they don’t have the worldly things involved in their relationships or as much temptation. Because of the restrictions, their bond can grow. They’re pretty much going through a battle together, and typically bonds are stronger when they come through fire.
The most surprising part of my work thus far is the volume of individuals who are like, “Hey, I couldn’t find love out around the corner, but I found love in the Department of Corrections.” The bonds are amazing to me because divorce rates out here are so high, and all of my couples are still married. The ones who didn’t want to go through with it decided that on their own before their wedding, so I haven’t had any divorces as of yet.
A colleague once asked me, “Why do you do it?” And I was like, “I need this as my decompressor.” If you have a heart, [advocacy] work is going to affect you. And so seeing all this dark stuff, this is like my light.
