Exclusive | Inside Joyce Mitchell’s bleak, reclusive life 10 years after she helped convicted killer lovers escape Dannemora

There’s been no redemption for the Shawskank. 

New photos show Joyce Mitchell living a bleak, reclusive life in upstate New York nearly 10 years to the day after she helped her alleged lovers — convicted killers Richard Matt and David Sweat — escape from Clinton maximum-security prison in Dannemora, NY.

Neighbors in sleepy Dickinson told The Post they rarely see the disgraced 61-year-old or her head-scratchingly devoted husband, Lyle — whose names remain tainted across the North Country a decade after the jailbreak and 23-day manhunt captivated the nation and spawned a Hollywood miniseries.

“She is not regarded well around here,” said Connie Paquin, the owner of Mo’s Bar and Grill in Malone, 18 miles north of the Mitchell’s rural, two-story home. 

“Nobody can really believe what she did,” said Paquin. “Everybody around here thinks she really should have got more time than she got.”

Joyce Mitchell was a supervisor in the prison tailor shop when she began “flirtatious” relationships with both Matt and Sweat, who were meticulously hatching an escape not unlike the fictitious one in 1994’s “The Shawshank Redemption.”

As the flings progressed, the dowdy seamstress gave Matt oral sex and passed along nude selfies for Sweat, she later confessed to authorities. Eventually she began helping the cons with their planned breakout, even smuggling in a hacksaw blade and drill bit concealed in hamburger meat.

All the while, her husband worked as an industrial training supervisor in the same lockup.

After six months of planning and using the tools to cut through their steel cell walls and an 18-inch steam pipe in the facility’s underbelly, the duo made their escape on June 6, 2015. They emerged from a manhole cover about 500 feet outside the prison walls around 11:50 p.m. 

Joyce Mitchell was supposed to be waiting for her daring boytoys in a car at a nearby intersection at midnight, ready to ride off into the sunset toward Mexico. 

But she never showed up. 

Instead, she went to the hospital in the throes of a panic attack. 

The two inmates skulked around the neighborhood until about 12:20 a.m. Realizing she had backed out, they took off. 

The escape, and Joyce’s romantic role in it, made national headlines, and Joyce was dubbed “Shawskank.” Then-Gov. Andrew Cuomo rushed to the prison, where he was photographed peering into the manhole.

The subsequent, 23-day manhunt riveted the nation, with 1,500 law enforcement officers, at a cost of $1 million-per-day, scouring the deep woods of the North Country for the desperate fugitives. 

But they were elusive, trudging through dense forests and swamps, and setting up makeshift campsites when they weren’t squatting in empty hunting cabins. In one, they picked up a 20-gauge shotgun, rum, boots, binoculars, maps and other supplies.

The duo finally split up on June 23. Three days later, Matt was cornered by border patrol agents near Lake Titus. When he ignored commands to surrender, he was shot dead. 

On June 28, Sweat was spotted by a State Trooper near Constable. When he tried to run, the sergeant fired two rounds, hitting Sweat in the left arm and right shoulder before he was recaptured. 

Joyce was arrested June 12 – less than a week after the jailbreak. She pleaded guilty in September 2015 to promoting prison contraband and criminal facilitation, and was sentenced to two-and-a-half to seven years. She was released after less than five years spent at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility in Westchester County.

In the years since, Joyce has put up a happy front on Facebook, where she uses her old nickname Tillie — just like her character played by Patricia Arquette in Ben Stiller’s mini-series “Escape at Dannemora.”

Seemingly serene family photos of Joyce and Lyle posted in August 2023 show the couple posing alongside six other adults and a little girl in the woods.

Another Facebook snap shows the youngster, believed to be the couple’s granddaughter, lovingly wrapping her arms around a grumpy-looking Lyle. 

But away from social media, neighbors say the couple rarely poke their heads out from their gray, worn-down, two-story home, which is decorated with butterfly windchimes, a ceramic dog sculpture and other tchotchkes. A black Boston Terrier could be seen lazing inside a windowsill when The Post visited recently.

It’s unclear how the couple gets by financially. Joyce was fired and Lyle quit amid disciplinary actions. They both collect small state pensions, which were reduced because they left jobs long before their expected retirement dates.

“Obviously she’s not working in corrections. I don’t think anyone would hire [either of] them around here,” said Ed Work, who serves as a warden at nearby Franklin Correctional.

Lyle made $20,292 in 2024, while Joyce made only $8,775, according to public state pension records. 

Until a few years ago, Work said he used to spot Joyce headed to her monthly parole-officer meetings.

“I’ve seen her a few times going to parole and I’ve seen her once at the store since she’s been out, but I haven’t seen Lyle once,” he said.

“It’s a close community, but no, they’re not really involved,” he continued.

At the Franklin prison, Work said correction officer trainees are taught Joyce’s relationship with Matt and Sweat as an example of what not to do.

“You know, some prisoners might try to manipulate you, saying, ‘You look nice today’ and other stuff to get better treatment. But you can’t let ‘em get to you,” Work explained.

“Joyce isn’t the prettiest girl in town, so I’m not sure what those guys were doing, but I guess you get pretty desperate in jail,” he added with a chuckle. 

One neighbor described the Mitchells as “friendly” and helpful.

Lyle has helped the neighbor, who gave his name as Jeff, clear his land. “It’s a lot of work clearing the lot, and that’s what we talk about. Nothing personal,” said Jeff. 

As for Joyce, “she waves when I see her coming out, but it’s not that often.”

Despite the allegations against Joyce – which included a plot to kill Lyle, according to Sweat and investigators – Lyle welcomed his wife back with open arms. 

He is decidedly less tolerant of nosy journalists. 

“Leave us alone. Get the f–k away from us and leave us alone,” he barked at a Post reporter before slamming the door shut. “Stay the f–k away from us.”