YUNYI DAI / NEXTGENRADIO
MOMENTS
OF
TRUTH
Jordan Hernandez speaks with Lana Hecocta, who helps other Indigenous women find healing and connection through their spirituality and finding their own purpose. Hecocta discovered a new kind of freedom once she was released from prison after six years. Starting over was extremely hard, so she told her mom she wanted to go back behind bars. Her mother’s reaction inspired Hecocta to find a way to move forward.
Freedom changes shape depending where you stand
Listen to the Story
Click here for audio transcript
Lana Hecocta
It’s like, finally, finally people are trusting me. Finally, I can help.
My name is Lana Hecocta. I am Paiute from the Klamath Tribes.
I’m the volunteer coordinator for the Red Lodge Transitional Services here in, um, Clackamas County.
We go into the prisons and we help the women transition into freedom from behind the bars.
I was incarcerated in Coffee Creek in Wilsonville, um, from 2009 to 2015.
I was in there because of domestic violence … I guess I got tired of it. I snapped. I don’t hurt people. But I made a mistake and I hurt somebody, and it put me in prison.
When they took me, I honestly felt relief.
It got me out of … away from alcohol and violence.
And when I finally got to prison, I finally got freedom.
They told me it was going to be easy, when I got out, to start over, and it wasn’t. And I had to do it alone.
It was scary because I didn’t have nowhere to go. Nowhere of my own. I didn’t have no stuff. I didn’t have any more friends. And I have this record.
I found myself going down that same road again. I was, like, really lost.
So, um, when I told my mom I wanted to go back, I was in her house. I was sitting on the couch.
And I was crying. I just said I want to go back.
And then I looked up, and she was crying. And I can’t take back that … comment that I made. It’s the first thing that went in my head, was I can’t take it back.
It just made me think that that’s selfish. [sniffles] That I couldn’t do that to her again. But …
I needed some sort of healing.
My mom’s tears were that eye opener.
Even though I hate seeing my mom’s tears, I’m so glad she gave me them that day. Because I wouldn’t be sitting here if she didn’t.
I was still young, trying to figure out, you know, what I wanted to do, but I knew I wanted to help people. With my crimes, they didn’t want me to help people because it was a person to person crime, so you know, maybe I could work at an office where it’s not around people, or answer phones that’s not around people.
Just ended up cleaning. [laughs]
I lived in a town where there was a lot of racism, so some people didn’t want me in their house. That was discouraging. So I went to cleaning motels. And that was degrading. It was hurting my body.
So, I did everything but taking care of people. And I was so unhappy. So, finding Red Lodge.
I feel blessed that I found the people that I can help.
I became affiliated with Red Lodge back in 2019.
When the women are released, they get to come here.
There’s medicines here.
[Riffling around sound]
We got some eagle feathers here.
The sage [sniffs] always has a great smell.
I come and sit on this little couch next to, um, this little shelf with all these little treasures.
And this is where I can pray because I know that it’s safe, and these are safe things.
They can’t take our prayers from us.
Nobody could take that from me.
Lana Hecocta has made it her mission to help other women, share in their pain and vulnerability, and guide them through the hardest moments in their lives — moments that she has also lived through.
Hecocta, a 44-year-old Paiute woman from the Klamath Tribes, lives in Canby, Oregon, and is a volunteer coordinator at Red Lodge Transitional Services. Red Lodge is an organization that helps Native and Indigenous women transition from prison back into society.
The work Hecocta does with Red Lodge extends beyond providing housing. She and Trish Jordan, the executive director, bring sacred foods to prisons, a vital practice for the spiritual well-being of individuals who are incarcerated. They also facilitate sweat lodge ceremonies, a powerful tradition for healing, connection and spiritual renewal. For Hecocta, these ceremonies are a source of strength and a reminder of the freedom she found within herself.
“It’s where I found freedom,” she explains, “and I want them to know that they can be free.”
From left: Trish Jordan, the executive director at Red Lodge, and Lana Hecocta, a Paiute woman from the Klamath Tribes, prepare sacred foods to serve to people who are incarcerated.
Courtesy of Lana Hecocta
Hecocta was incarcerated at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility in Oregon from 2009-2015. She found an unexpected sense of freedom while in prison.
“Nobody to control me,” she explains. “Nobody to tell me to shut up when I wanted to talk. Nobody telling me I can’t work. Nobody telling me I’m worthless.”
Prison had become a place of healing and self-discovery for her.
“I was abused by my ex-husband for quite a while. I don’t really know how to put it, but I guess I got tired of it. I snapped. I don’t hurt people. But I made a mistake and I hurt somebody and it put me in prison.”
After being sentenced, Hecocta spent a majority of her time inside reflecting on all the decisions she had made that led to her incarceration.
“I believe that the six years that I did get, was a blessing. I got freedom. I got a chance to become myself and see who I was. I got a chance to fix and heal myself to where I wouldn’t have to depend on anybody when I got out.”
When Hecocta was released from prison in 2015, she faced a lot of barriers. Struggling with the weight of her past substance use disorder and unhealthy relationships, she felt the pull to return to the familiar confines of prison.
What helped Hecocta most during this time was her family, especially her mother.
About a month after her release, she sat on her mom’s couch crying and wrestling with the overwhelm of conflicting emotions around her newfound freedom and the familiarity prison gave her during the time she spent there.
“When I told my mom I wanted to go back [to prison], she cried. And it just made me think that that’s selfish. That I couldn’t do that to her again. Even if I didn’t have to go to prison, I needed some sort of healing. I needed some sort of freedom,” she says, crying softly.
Having a criminal record also meant it was difficult for Hecocta to find employment. She had always known that she wanted to help people, but because she committed a person-to-person crime, she knew it would be hard to get hired. She also felt that people would have difficulty being around her in a professional setting.
“I lived in a town where there was a lot of racism, so some people didn’t want me in their house [cleaning]. That was discouraging. So I went to cleaning motels. And that was degrading. It was hurting my body. But I needed a place to live. So, I did everything but taking care of people. And I was so unhappy.”
Growing frustrated with her lack of employment options, Hecocta reached out to Jordan, the head of Red Lodge. While Hecocta was in prison, Jordan visited regularly, offering support and a sense of connection and hope, constantly reminding the women that she was there for them.
Hecocta sits in the living room at Red Lodge House, a safe house for women transitioning from prison back to society on Monday, Feb. 24, 2025. She often comes to this corner to pray and feel connected to all the people she has lost.
JORDAN HERNANDEZ / NEXTGENRADIO
Red Lodge workers and community members prepare fry bread as part of their efforts to bring sacred food to people in prisons.
Courtesy of Lana Hecocta
Hecocta began volunteering with Red Lodge, going into the office to help organize the artwork made by locals, getting the Red Lodge house ready for people to live in, and accompanying Jordan on prison visits. She eventually became the volunteer coordinator at Red Lodge, and now works on helping bring powwows to prisons.
Alongside Jordan, Hecocta found her calling working at Red Lodge. “It’s like she’s showing me my purpose and what I am capable of,” she says. “Pushing me because I think she sees what I don’t.”
The support from her colleagues and peers at Red Lodge helped her realize that her true mission was helping other people.
Being a part of Red Lodge has brought Hecocta’s journey full circle. Helping women who have walked a similar path is now her motivation. “It feels unreal,” she says, “like me, out of all people, going back into those prisons … and they let me in.”
A sweat lodge is under construction at the Red Lodge House.
JORDAN HERNANDEZ / NEXTGENRADIO
It’s where I found freedom and I want them to know that they can be free.
Hecocta is reflected in the mirror at Red Lodge House. She enjoys walking around the space and seeing all the pieces that make it feel welcoming.
JORDAN HERNANDEZ / NEXTGENRADIO
Sharing her personal experiences, sweating in the sweat lodges with the other women, and simply listening are ways she gives back and empowers others to find their own freedom.
Hecocta’s freedom is invaluable to her. There’s a corner in the living room at the Red Lodge transitional house that she returns to often to pray, to remember people who she’s lost in her life, to watch and listen to the teachings from her late grandfather on YouTube, and to look at all the items that represent her spirituality.
Her sister died in 2021, and Hecocta became the guardian for her niece and nephew. It’s a moment that reinforced the idea that she’d been preparing for caregiving, that now it was her duty to step in.
“I believe that’s what I was getting ready for,” she reflects. Her boyfriend Danny Lunsford, whom she met in prison as a pen pal and who has been a constant support, stepped in to help Hecocta raise the kids.
Hecocta displays all of the “treasures” on the shelf in the living room at Red Lodge. She loves surrounding herself with all the artifacts in the space to help her feel connected to her spirituality and culture.
JORDAN HERNANDEZ / NEXTGENRADIO
“Every time I look at these kids, they’re just like my sister and that keeps me going. They’re following in my footsteps. They see me crying out of nowhere, and come and give me a hug and say, ‘Do you want a smudge?’ And then it’s a good reminder because sometimes, as an adult, you forget to pray, you forget to give yourself time, and they’re good reminders.”
Hecocta often comes to Red Lodge to pray — she likes picking up the sage from the bookshelf, closing her eyes and taking a long inhale to absorb the scent. She always looks at the feathers in front of her, along with all the artwork surrounding her on the walls in her favorite corner of the house.
“This is where I like to sit. Finding my peace,” Hecocta says quietly. “We have our medicines no matter where we go, we always have them. You know, they can’t take it from us. They can’t take our prayers from us.”
We have our medicines no matter where we go, we always have them. You know, they can’t take it from us. They can’t take our prayers from us.