I leaped up, rushed to my locker, retrieving only a small manila envelope of personal letters, leaving behind toiletries and books. I was intensely aware that the women I shared the cell with were all at the beginning of their prison journey, and I was at the end of mine. There was no way to give them all the things I now carried in my head and my heart.

“You can have anything in my locker, ladies. I’m going home.”

THE FEMALE guard in R &D explained that they had no women’s street clothes, so she gave me the smallest pair of men’s jeans they had, a green polo shirt, a windbreaker, and a cheap pair of fake-suede lace-up shoes with thin plastic soles. They also provided me with what she called “a gratuity”: $28.30. I was ready for the outside world.

A guard led me and another prisoner, a young Spanish guy, to an elevator. We looked at each other as we rode down.

He nodded to me. “How much time you do?”

“Thirteen months. You?”

“Twenty.”

When we got to the bottom, we were in the service entrance. The guard opened the door to the street, and we stepped out. We were on an empty side street, a canyon between the fortress and some office buildings, with a slice of gray sky above us. Homie’s people were waiting directly across the street in an SUV, and he broke for the car like a jackrabbit and was gone.

I looked around.

“Isn’t anyone coming to get you?” asked the guard.

“Yeah!” I said, impatient. “Where are we?”

“I’ll take you around to the front,” he said, reluctant.

I turned and started walking briskly ahead of him. Ten yards farther, and I saw Larry, standing in front of the MCC, talking on his phone, until he turned and saw me. And then I was running, as fast as I could. No one could stop me.

Most of all, I would like to thank my husband, Larry Smith, whose ferociously stubborn love sustains me and without whom I would not have written this book. I’d also like to thank the women of the Danbury FCI, and the other prisons I traveled through, because they changed my life.

I am deeply grateful for the love and support of my mother, father, and brother and all of my family, and to Carol and Lou and the entire Smith family.

Thanks to my agent, Stuart Krichevsky, for his belief in this project, his patience, and his hard work, and to Shana Cohen, Danielle Rollins, and Shari Smiley. Thank you to my incredible editor, Julie Grau, who always understood the book I wanted to write and challenged me to make it so much better; and to Cindy Spiegel, Laura Van der Veer, Hana Landes, Steve Messina, Donna Sinisgalli, Christopher Sergio, Rachel Bernstein, London King, Avideh Bashirrad, and the great team at Spiegel & Grau and Random House.

Special thanks to my best friend, Kristen Grimm, who knows every step of the journey recounted in this book and has never stopped helping me through it. To my readers Trish Boczkowski, David Boyer, Robyn Crawford, and Ellen DeLaRosa, I say thank you each for your unique help and counsel.

I’m grateful to each and every person who wrote me letters, sent me books, and helped me in so many other ways while I was in prison; the enormous kindness of friends and strangers is humbling. I especially would like to thank Earl Adams, Zoe Allen, Kate Barrett, Michael Callahan, Jeff Cranmer, Cheryl Della Pietra, Gabriella DiFilippo, Dave Eggers, Arin Fishkin, Victor Friedman, John Garrison, Noah Hatton, Liz Heckles, Steve Huggard, Joe Loya, Kirk and Susan Meyer, Leonid Oliker, Julie Oppenheimer, Ed Powers, Brie Reeder, Ted Rheingold, Kris Rosi and the Rosi family, Jon Schulberg, Shannon Snead, Tara Stiles, Ty Wenger, Penelope Whitney, Kelly Wyllie, and Sam Zalutsky.

Huge thanks to my defense attorney, Patrick J. Cotter, and to my other legal eagles, Dave Corbett, Wallace Doolittle, and Eric Hecker.

Tim Barkow, the creator of www.thepipebomb.com, is a kind friend and generous tech genius. Thank you to my friend and enthusiastic photographer, John Carnett.

Returning to the workforce after prison is a daunting proposition. Thank you for the generosity and the warm welcome of Dan Hoffman and the entire M5 team. Thanks also to my enthusiastic and bighearted colleagues at Spitfire Strategies.

Without the generous hospitality of Jean Brennan and Zach Rogers, Paul and Erica Tullis, and Liz Gewirtzman, this book would probably not have been written. And thank you to the entire Above and Beyoncé crew for tireless cheerleading and well-timed diversions.

To all of these people, I am so very grateful.

PIPER KERMAN is a vice president at a Washington, D.C.-based communications firm that works with foundations and nonprofits. A graduate of Smith College, she lives in Brooklyn.