Kristal Bush, founder of Bridging the Gap, a prison van company Several times a week, her vans pick up riders from their homes throughout Philadelphia and drive them to see loved ones in prisons across the state. Photo by Zora J Murff

Cassandra, driver ‘Myself, I said that I would never deal with someone who is incarcerated, but I’m here. We were childhood sweethearts. His mom and my sister were both police officers. In 2006, I reached out to him through his mom. He was already away. ‘He was able to give me in there what I was not getting from the men out here: keep me grounded, focused, keep my mind on what it needed to be on, like my children, my career and my schooling.’ Photo by Zora J Murff

Erica, rider ‘Me and this crazy man, we’ve been rocking for a long time together. If I missed a visit it was work related, and he knows that. Rain, sleet, snow, hail, I’m coming. I spend maybe $400 a month on these roads. ‘A lot of people have a lot of negative things to say to us as women who go through this. Some people don’t even consider our relationships real. That’s one of the most ignorant things that I’ve heard a person say. Why does my love have a limit to it?’ Photo by Zora J Murff

Crystal Speaks, co-owner of Bridging the Gap When her son Jarvae was 10, his father died of an overdose. ‘That’s where the problem started. A lot of kids, if there’s a man around, they do better.’ In 2008, Jarvae pled guilty to attempted murder. He got 6-20 years. For almost a decade, Crystal drove the 400-mile round trip to see him every week. The roads take their toll. ‘I get off of my night job doing maintenance at a cancer clinic, and then I have to be back up at 3am. Some days I do want to quit, but I don’t want the business to fall. I’m going to support my daughter’. Photo by Zora J Murff

Tanesha, rider Two years ago, Tanesha climbed into Kristal’s van and started talking. It was her first visit and years had passed she had seen Sherod last. That was back when they were in their twenties, before he got locked up. After, she cut ties.‘I can’t do this, the man in jail thing,’ she told Kristal. But in the visiting room the sparks that flew when they reconnected by phone lit bright again. ‘Being able to do this is a blessing. Some people can’t do this. Some can’t afford to. But you know us as strong women, we do what we gotta do for these brothers, for our men, because we love them’. Photo by Zora J Murff

Lois, rider “I was six or eight weeks pregnant when he got locked up. It’s really embarrassing. People try to tell me you shouldn’t be embarrassed because you didn’t commit the crime. I was like, I have to do this sentence along with him. Put the money on my phone, pay for the visits, send the pictures.’Two weeks after her birth, Lois took Jade to meet her father. Now they go to see him once a month in a visiting room where Jade runs her father ragged. Jeff’s sentence is 20-40 years. “It’s depressing knowing he’s got to sit in there. But at the same time, at least I know he’s alive’. Photo by Zora J Murff

Destiny, rider Destiny’s visits begin in Harlem, New York. She and her one-year-old son MJ board an 11pm bus. In Philly by 1am, they doze in the station until 5 am, when the van shows up. Destiny was 18 when she had MJ with Muhtadi. She got certified as a nursing assistant. He worked at a moving company after serving a year on a felony charge. The company went under. He tried to apply to jobs to no avail; last year, he robbed a man. ‘I think he was scared of us getting kicked out and left on the street.‘If not for MJ, I would let him do this time by himself so he could learn his lesson’ Photo by Zora J Murff

Aisha, rider Aisha walks her son CJ to her mother’s house and climbs on the van. On each trip, she takes a photo album. In the early photos her hair is uncovered. Most of her family is Muslim but she pledged her faith last year: ‘I didn’t take shahada until I was ready.’ Samad, her man, is also Muslim. He told her she had to find Allah on her time.A few months ago, she lost her job as a nursing assistant and couldn’t visit for 60 days. ‘I’m trying to get things together so when you come home you can get right into what you need to do as far as being a man, a father, a husband,’ she told him. Photo by Zora J Murff

Ms Rachel, rider Ms Rachel cared for her grandson his whole life. He calls her mom. ‘I raised him the best way I could.’ After he robbed two men of their guns that he would later sell on the street, Swat teams arrived at her door. Eventually, he turned himself in. She paid an attorney $30,000 to plead his case. Jeff was sentenced to 20-40 years. ‘Yes he did deserve to get some time, but I’m still stuck on these 20 years. I can’t keep going on down there. I don’t know why they sent him so far. This is where my sickness is coming from, ’cause I’m so stressed out about him’ Photo by Zora J Murff

Simone, rider. ‘I miss the little things that we’d do. It was nothing for us to just go walk down South Streetto just go out for some ice cream. The simplest things I miss.’When Simone met her fianceŽ in 2009, she had already lost a husband. She had raised five girls. ‘All got their diploma, all want something in life, so I think I did a pretty good job.’ When her fianceŽ was sentenced to five years in prison, it was heartbreaking. He worried she wouldn’t wait. ‘I tell him it’s not hard for me to wait because I love him.’Simone drives Lyft to cover the cost of trips to see him twice a month. Photo by Zora J Murff