Escape Your Prison
My Story

My Story

You’re invited to inspect my cell where you’ll find a broken woman with a felony, but maybe you’ll stay longer and discover a woman living her life with conviction. I am Toby.

If you search this site looking for a broken woman with a felony conviction, you’ll find me. If you search more hoping for answers, you’ll find a woman living with conviction. My name is Toby. I am Unleashed.

It was time to take stock. I felt as disposable as the 670,000 dogs put down in the United States every year so I started a prison dog program called Safe Harbor. 

Through Safe Harbor, I helped hardened inmates develop compassion and responsibility. I offered well-adjusted dogs to local families.

Tall, confident and cool, John Manard, a convicted murderer, noticed me. Regulations couldn’t smother the innocent smoldering between us. Safeguards designed to prevent such indiscretions fanned the flames. All fun and games until, under the nose of authority, I smuggled him out of Lansing Prison… in a dog crate.

A police helicopter spotlight illuminated our fugitive run. Driven like dogs, we raced down a dark Tennessee highway into the inevitable. Heavily armed officers pushed us into a tree at 100 miles per hour. 

Just the beginning, I went to prison where death, desertion and divorce were my visitors. Stripped bare and stripped of duty, within my story of ruin, I discovered who I wanted to be. I found freedom in the most unexpected place… behind bars.

Expect my memoir, Unleashed, soon on bookshelves everywhere.

Browse podcast appearances, media and events

Toby Dorr, October 2019

My story of a successful woman who fell is also the tale of a troubled inmate who rose.

Behind bars, I found freedom from expectations, obligations and deadlines.

Learn to live with conviction, unleashed—and unstoppable! Join me. Your details will differ, but in my story perhaps we’ll find each other.

the year 
I became a number
and a face 
everyone recognized

but no one knew
not even me
who knew 
less than nothing
of the woman 
buried inside

a turning point
that year
that was 
really more 
than a year

the year I lived 
on peanut butter, 
mail call, 
visiting day

the year I sank 
into the deep muck
of depression, 
fears and fate

the year when 
I felt I wasn’t 
entitled to smile
or dream
the year when 
the darkness settled 
and waters
became clear
and deep

the year I learned 
that hope 
is blue
like a springtime sky

and prayer is purple
bold and royal
and everywhere

the year 
I was just a number

the year I became

who was always 
hidden inside...

Join me!