The Song Jason Michael Carroll Couldn’t Stop Writing — And Why “Alyssa Lies” Changed Everything

The Story Behind Jason Michael Carroll’s “Alyssa Lies”

Some songs take a few hours. Some take a few days. Every now and then, a song takes well over a year — long months of sitting down, writing a line, and having to walk away because the material is too heavy to carry all at once.

“Alyssa Lies” was that song.

Jason Michael Carroll gave it a week and a half to produce a first verse and chorus. After that came the long part. By his own telling, he struggled to the point of migraines for about a year and a half, and when he told the story again in 2009, he put the total at two years. The subject matter — a child being abused while everyone around her looked away — was so emotionally taxing that he would get a verse down, put it aside, come back, and walk away once more.

When it finally came out in October 2006, it reached number five on the country chart and crossed over to the Hot 100. And in at least one elementary school classroom in Augusta, Georgia, it prompted seven children to come forward as abuse victims, after a teacher who had heard Carroll play it live, before it ever reached radio, brought a copy to class.

That’s not a typical debut single story. Not by a long shot.

On October 17, 2026, “Alyssa Lies” turns twenty years old. This is the story of how it got written, what it cost the man who wrote it, what it did out in the world, and where Jason Michael Carroll’s music has gone since.

Who Was Jason Michael Carroll Before “Alyssa Lies”?

Jason Michael Carroll grew up in North Carolina, the son of a preacher, in a household strict enough that secular music stayed outside the front door. Gospel was the soundtrack at home. That upbringing ran through nearly everything he wrote later.

Country found him anyway. According to Music Row’s cover profile of him, friends and later a job at a motor shop put music in his ears, and he found himself drawn to country. He started writing early, too. By his own account, he wrote his first song at eight years old, sitting on the edge of a bathtub in the middle of the night after his father ran over the family cat on the way to work. He needed somewhere to put the feeling, so he pulled a notebook out of his schoolbag. Decades later he would tell Saving Country Music that “songwriting is therapy,” and it all started right there.

Carroll also served in the Marine Corps, and the discipline of that service sat beside the emotional directness of a preacher’s kid, a combination that didn’t lend itself to surface-level songwriting. He described himself to Songfacts as a happy person, but when he wrote alone, the songs tended to go dark. By the time he was twenty-one and his first band had started playing his originals, he later recalled, people in the bars where they played were walking up between sets to ask where all that pain in his songs came from. He would shrug. He didn’t know either.

The road to Nashville ran through a karaoke contest. Music Row reports that after Carroll won a radio station’s contest, a local country band in need of a singer asked him to join, and he began paying his dues in clubs. His mother, by then fully behind his dream, signed him up for a televised talent show in the Raleigh-Durham area. He won, and the visibility opened the doors that led to producer Don Gehman.

Along the way came a phone call he never forgot. Carroll told the Norfolk Daily News in early 2007 that, roughly six years earlier, his fan club president had met Garth Brooks in Oklahoma and the two got talking about Carroll, who had lost his grandmother the day before. Brooks got on the phone. At first Carroll didn’t believe it was really him. Brooks offered his condolences and some advice: the road is long and hard, but if you make it, he said, it is “the sweetest road you’ll ever know.” Carroll said he thought about that conversation at every low point that followed, and that he had never met Brooks and hoped to thank him someday.

When the record deal finally came with Arista Nashville in 2006, the song he led with wasn’t a radio-friendly chart grab. It was the hardest thing he had ever written.

Where the Song Came From: A Poem and a News Story

The origin of “Alyssa Lies” sits at the intersection of two separate moments, and Carroll has been clear that neither one alone would have been enough.

The first was a poem. A friend of Carroll’s wrote a piece about child abuse, and when Carroll read it, something in him recognized that it wanted to be a song. He told Songfacts in 2009 that he thought it would make a strong one, and added, “I’m a dark writer, actually.” But child abuse felt like too much, even for him, and he tried to leave the idea alone.

A couple of days later, he saw a news story about the very same subject. He took it as a sign that somebody, somewhere, wanted this song written. Two times in two days was, in his mind, no coincidence.

Writing it was another matter entirely. It took a week and a half to get the first verse and chorus down. Then a pattern set in: every couple of weeks he would pick the song up, and every time, he would have to put it back down.

Alyssa herself is fictional, and Carroll has said plainly that the song isn’t autobiographical. But it grew out of things he had seen. His father, the preacher, helped families who had been through abuse, and Carroll told Songfacts that he witnessed some of that firsthand. His father was a strict disciplinarian, he told the Norfolk Daily News, one who may have gone overboard at times, but Carroll was careful to say it was nowhere near what Alyssa endured.

That blend of close observation and invention is part of why the song works. The girl is made up, but the world around her isn’t. It was happening in classrooms and neighborhoods across the country, and the people positioned to see the signs were too often choosing to look the other way.

Migraines, False Starts, and a Song That Refused to Be Easy

The process of writing “Alyssa Lies” reportedly gave Carroll migraines. Not metaphorically: the emotional strain of sitting with the subject matter and trying to render it honestly, without sentimentality, caused him physical pain. He would get partway through a draft and walk away from it, convinced it wasn’t working. Come back days later. Scrap what he had written. Start again.

How long it took depends on when you ask him. In early 2007, he told the Norfolk Daily News that after the week and a half it took to write the first verse and chorus, he struggled for about a year and a half before he finished. Two years later, in a 2009 Songfacts interview, he put the whole thing at two years. Some accounts suggest an even longer stretch, counting the time before the song felt ready to record. Whichever number you trust, the shape is the same: a long, stubborn grind on a song that wouldn’t let him go.

What he was fighting was the impossibility of getting the balance right. Too much and the song became melodrama, the kind of thing that tells you how to feel rather than showing you something real. Too little and it wouldn’t carry the weight the subject demanded. The line between emotionally true and manipulative is a narrow one, and Carroll understood that crossing it in either direction would ruin everything.

Carroll has a view of songwriting that helps explain the delay. He told Songfacts he thinks of it as almost spiritual: songs are out there waiting to be written, and a writer can either force an idea and risk ruining it, or receive it the way it was meant to arrive. When a song hit a roadblock, he might hammer at it for a minute, and then leave it alone for a couple of weeks. For a song this heavy, walking away may have been exactly what allowed him to keep coming back.

By his own description, he eventually accepted that he couldn’t make the song perfect, only as heartfelt and honest as he could get it. That acceptance was what finally allowed him to finish it.

For a songwriter who saw the craft as something close to spiritual, “Alyssa Lies” was the hardest call he had ever answered.

What the Song Is Actually About

The story is told from the perspective of a father. His young daughter has made a new friend at school, a girl named Alyssa. The daughter comes home with tears in her eyes one day and asks her father why Alyssa lies. Why does she always make up stories about where the bruises come from?

The father listens. He doesn’t immediately know what to do with what he’s hearing, and at first he brushes it off. He has a hard night of sleep as he tries to figure out how to handle it. And then one evening, he hears his daughter praying, asking God to keep Alyssa safe. That’s the moment he knows he has to act. He decides to say something at the school on Monday morning.

But when Monday comes, it’s already too late.

The final verses of the song shift in tone with devastating precision. The past tense arrives. Alyssa doesn’t lie in the classroom anymore, not because someone stopped the abuse in time, but because she’s gone. The chorus that had been about a frightened child’s small deceptions becomes something else entirely in its last repetition.

How the Song Is Built: Why the Ending Lands

Part of what makes “Alyssa Lies” so hard to shake is the choice of narrator. The story isn’t told by the child, or by a teacher, or by some detached observer. It’s told by a father who heard the warning from his own daughter and, at first, brushed it off. That single admission does more work than any graphic detail could.

The song never describes the abuse itself. All the listener gets are the bruises, the excuses a frightened child has learned to give, and a little girl on a playground who can’t understand why her friend would lie about something so plain. The evidence is exactly the kind adults can notice and explain away. By keeping the camera there, Carroll makes the listener do what the adults in the song failed to do: pay attention.

Then comes the turn. The father resolves to speak up on Monday. The daughter’s bedtime prayer for her friend sounds tender until you know where the song is heading. When Monday arrives, the news has beaten him to it, and the title’s small, repeated verb takes on a meaning nobody wanted it to have.

What the writing refuses to do matters as much as what it does. There is no villain on stage, no speech, and no moral spelled out. The only call to action is the one implied by the father’s regret. That is the discipline Carroll was fighting for through all those months: a song honest enough to hurt, and restrained enough not to tell anyone how to feel.

The Recording: Arista Nashville and Don Gehman

“Alyssa Lies” was released on October 17, 2006, as the lead single from Carroll’s debut album, Waitin’ in the Country, which followed on February 6, 2007, on Arista Nashville. The producer was Don Gehman, a name fans will recognize from his work with John Mellencamp, among others. Gehman had a reputation for records that sounded lived-in and human rather than polished to the point of being unrecognizable.

That sensibility was right for what Carroll had written. “Alyssa Lies” is not a production showcase. There’s no sonic trick that makes it work; it works because the story is specific and the vocal performance carries conviction. Carroll sings it like a man reporting something that happened, not like a man performing a sad song. The restraint in the delivery mirrors the restraint in the writing.

Arista Nashville was one of the significant imprints of its era, and putting this out as a debut single, rather than something more immediately radio-friendly, was a genuine creative risk. What happened instead was the opposite of what nervous label heads might have feared.

The label’s comfort zone had limits, though. Carroll told Songfacts in 2009 that he pitched a song called “Stray” for that first record, a moonlit portrait of a man who can tell his partner is about to leave. The label passed. The reason he was given, he said, was that it was a little degrading to women because it was about a woman leaving. Carroll noted with some amusement that most of the people who request the song at his shows are women.

It is an odd pairing: a label willing to put a song about a child who dies out as the debut single, but nervous about a breakup song. Why one dark song got through and the other didn’t is anyone’s guess. The best explanation may be that “Alyssa Lies” was so plainly earnest that it was hard to argue with.

What Happened When “Alyssa Lies” Hit Radio

Country radio in 2006 was not looking for a song about child abuse. The format had been moving toward lighter material: tailgates, small towns, summer evenings, the comfortable pleasures of American life. “Alyssa Lies” arrived from another direction entirely.

It broke through anyway.

By Carroll’s own count in early 2007, it took sixteen weeks for the song to reach the Top 10. It went on to peak at number five on Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart and number 58 on the Hot 100, and it finished 2007 at number 44 on Billboard’s year-end country songs list. Those numbers don’t tell the full story. What they don’t capture is what was happening at radio stations across the country: the call-in stories, the broken voices on the other end of the line, the listeners for whom the song had a name and a face.

The Norfolk Daily News wrote at the time that the eyes of the biggest, burliest men easily filled with tears by the song’s end. The paper also noted that Carroll’s own name was still relatively unknown, and that it didn’t bother him one bit, because knowing Alyssa mattered more than knowing the singer.

Carroll was twenty-eight then, and the father of four young children, the youngest just thirteen months old, the Daily News reported. It is hard not to hear that in the way he sings the father’s part.

One story circulated widely, and Carroll’s own website carried it in 2007: a trucker called into 93.7 The Bull in St. Louis and said that while listening to “Alyssa Lies,” his eyes had filled with tears so completely that he nearly veered off the road. That image, a man alone in a cab, out on a highway, undone by a country song about a child he’d never met, became part of the song’s mythology. It wasn’t surprising to anyone who had really listened.

Carroll himself said it plainly: the chart position was meaningful, but it wasn’t what moved him. What moved him were the stories. People were reaching out to tell him about their own childhoods, their own Alyssas, the moments they had seen and not acted on. The song had opened a door that a lot of people had been keeping shut.

The album the single launched did well, too. By the time Music Row put Carroll on its cover in 2009, Waitin’ in the Country had reached nearly a half-million in sales, and all three of its hit singles were songs Carroll had written or co-written.

Is “Alyssa Lies” a True Story?

It is the question that follows the song around, and the answer comes from Carroll himself. Alyssa is not a real person from his life. He told the Norfolk Daily News in early 2007 that people often ask whether the song is autobiographical, whether from the point of view of a father or from his own childhood, and that it is neither. It grew out of a friend’s poem and a story on the news.

Some online summaries describe the song as based on a true story of a girl who wasn’t saved from abuse in time, and it is easy to see why. The details feel too specific to have been invented, and what the song describes has been real for far too many children. Carroll’s own account is more precise. The girl is fictional, but the world around her is not, and he drew on what he had seen at the edges of his father’s ministry and what he watched and read in the news. A fictional girl stands in for real ones, which is exactly why the song has been able to speak for children who never got a song of their own.

When a Song Changes Lives: The Augusta, Georgia Teacher

Before “Alyssa Lies” ever reached radio, Carroll was performing it live. That’s how a teacher from Augusta, Georgia first heard it. She asked him for a copy of the recording so her elementary school class could write reports on what they thought the song meant to them.

Two months later, she called Carroll with the results. After hearing “Alyssa Lies,” seven children from that class had come forward, admitting for the first time that they were being abused. All seven received counseling. Two were removed from their situations entirely.

Carroll has told this story with the quiet disbelief of a man who can’t quite wrap his head around what a song can do. He told the Norfolk Daily News in early 2007 that this was the real reward of the whole effort. All those months of migraines and false starts and scrapped drafts: this was what they were for. A song that told one fictional child’s story had given real children a language for their own.

It wasn’t an isolated case. Over the years, Carroll heard similar stories from across the country. A song that named the thing, that said plainly what the bruises meant and what the lies were covering, gave listeners permission to say it themselves.

“Alyssa Lies” and Country Music’s Storytelling Lineage

Carroll was writing in a tradition. Country music has always had songs that refused to look away, songs that walked into the difficult rooms and described what was there without flinching and without romanticizing. That tradition goes back to the very origins of the genre.

Loretta Lynn’s “Coal Miner’s Daughter” made poverty and hardship into something dignified and specific. Kris Kristofferson wrote about Sunday morning loneliness in ways that unsettled listeners. Merle Haggard wrote about doing time with the same matter-of-fact authority. Tom T. Hall earned the nickname “The Storyteller” for a reason. The best of classic country music was always documentary in its approach. It didn’t explain how to feel, it just told you what happened.

By the time Martina McBride released “Concrete Angel” in November 2002, the template for this kind of song was well established. Written by Stephanie Bentley and Rob Crosby, it told of a child suffering alone, adults nearby who don’t ask the right questions, and a story that ends too soon. It reached number five on the country chart, and Rolling Stone later ranked it number one on its 2019 list of the 40 saddest country songs of all time.

Carroll absorbed that tradition without copying it, and he would eventually share a stage with one of its modern standard-bearers: Music Row reports that he joined Martina McBride’s 2008 tour. “Alyssa Lies” is a different song. The narrator is not a passive observer but a man reckoning with his own failure to act in time. Still, it breathes the same air. Both songs understood that the way country music earns the right to confront difficult material is by treating it with specificity and restraint.

“Alyssa Lies” proved that the tradition was still alive in the mid-2000s, even as country radio was moving toward lighter fare. There was still an audience for a song that asked hard questions and didn’t offer easy comfort at the end. That audience was enormous, as it turned out.

What Came Next: A Second Single and a Second Album

The song that followed “Alyssa Lies” couldn’t have been more different. “Livin’ Our Love Song” was Carroll’s own love story. As he told Songfacts in 2009, he and his wife, Wendy, had dated quietly in high school until her parents found out and sent her away to college out of state to separate them. It worked, for a while: both went on to marry other people. Years later, she walked into a bar where he was playing, and the two picked up as if they had never missed a day. Music Row says the song was certified gold as a mobile mastertone, and it turned out to be one of the biggest of his career, peaking at number six on the country chart. Song credits name Glen Mitchell and Tim Galloway as his co-writers.

How it reached the record is a separate story, and Carroll told it to Songfacts in 2015. He was on a tour bus in California, somewhere between cities, when one of his guitar players asked him how you write a song. Carroll’s first answer was to go ask a songwriter. His second was better: write down what you’re feeling, and tell a story that connects with you. The guitar player started picking at something, Carroll paused the Xbox game he was playing, and they began on the lyrics. A second guitar player woke from a nap in the back of the bus and sat down to help. Within a few hours the song was done.

A radio rep traveling with the band liked it enough to have them play it for a station the next morning, and she started making calls to the label. Carroll says the label told him they had thought the album was finished, then sent him back into the studio to record it. It is a nice bit of country-music luck: a song about a love that took years to come around, written in an afternoon on a bus because a bandmate asked a simple question.

By one count, Waitin’ in the Country produced three consecutive Top 40 country hits: “Alyssa Lies,” “Livin’ Our Love Song,” and “I Can Sleep When I’m Dead.” That third song has its own small origin story. Carroll was in a writing room with Rivers Rutherford and Jim Collins when Rutherford had to step out to take a phone call. Collins asked Carroll where he was from, and Carroll talked about growing up on a tobacco farm outside Raleigh and trying to work a day job, play in a band on weekends, and see his kids on Sundays. Collins asked when he ever slept. “I can sleep when I’m dead,” Carroll said without thinking, a phrase he’d heard the farmers around the barns near his house say all his life. Collins’ eyes lit up, and they wrote it that day. It peaked at number 21 on Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart, at the time his lowest-charting single, but Carroll says you would never know it from the crowds that jump up and sing along.

The road work was impressive for a new artist. By 2009, Music Row reported, Carroll had opened for Brooks & Dunn, Trace Adkins, and Alan Jackson, toured with Carrie Underwood and Martina McBride in 2008, and appeared on Good Morning America and at the Grand Ole Opry. His second album, Growing Up Is Getting Old, arrived in April 2009 and brought “Where I’m From” and “Hurry Home.” Carroll and Arista Nashville parted ways in February 2010. By his own count he had five Top 20 hits at the label, and in 2015 he released his fourth studio album, What Color Is Your Sky, through a Kickstarter campaign, recording it largely in home studios: his bass player’s house, his drummer’s little studio, and Carroll’s own vocals in a ten-by-twelve office at his North Carolina home.

He never became a stadium act. He was exactly what he set out to be: a songwriter who told true stories about real things, and trusted listeners to meet him there.

A Songwriter Who Kept Writing About the Hard Things

“Alyssa Lies” turned out to be the start of a pattern. Carroll’s single “Hurry Home” addressed the subject of runaways, and Music Row notes that its music video closed with a tag bringing attention to the work of the National Runaway Switchboard. The cause was personal: during Carroll’s childhood, an aunt of his was a runaway. The same profile lists the National Runaway Switchboard and Brittany’s Battle Foundation among the charities he supports.

Saving Country Music’s Ken Morton Jr. reports that Carroll has also been involved in USO tours for the military and has been heavily involved with PGA Hope, a program that introduces golf to veterans with disabilities to support their physical, mental, social, and emotional well-being. These were not press-release causes. They were the same instinct as the song: see the people who are going unseen, and say something.

More than a decade and a half after “Alyssa Lies,” Carroll returned with a new single, “Tell Me Your Name (Diane’s Song),” about Alzheimer’s disease and the toll it takes on a family watching someone disappear. Carroll had watched his mother-in-law battle the illness, and he saw the impact on his wife, Wendy, and their extended family. When his friend Johnny Orr shared part of a song on the subject, Carroll felt it was important and jumped in to finish it as a co-write.

The impulse was the same: write about something that matters, write it honestly, and trust that the audience is ready for it. His view of songwriting hadn’t changed. It was still therapy. It was still the thing he reached for when something demanded to be said and there was no other way to say it.

What Carroll Says About Country Storytelling

By the time Carroll sat down with Songfacts in May 2015, he was nearly nine years past “Alyssa Lies” and had opinions about the genre that made him famous. Telling stories, he said, was the best part of country music. He pointed to Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings and “Pancho and Lefty” as the kind of songs that told amazing stories, and it is easy to hear that lineage in his own writing.

He worried, too, that the genre was drifting toward pop and away from that storytelling tradition, and that the integrity of the format was being sacrificed to sell music. Reasonable people can disagree about whether he was right. But it helps explain the songwriter who wrote “Alyssa Lies.” He believed a country song’s job was to tell a story worth telling, and to tell it straight.

The same interview contains his plainest statement of method. Asked by a bandmate how to write a song, he said, you write down what you’re feeling and tell a story that connects with you, because the odds are that if you’ve been through something, several people out there have been through it too. That is a fair summary of the whole approach behind the song. He also named Paul Overstreet and Casey Beathard among the writers he admires, and he co-wrote “That’s All I Know” with both of them for his second album.

Twenty Years On: The Anniversary and the Album Called Anthem

On October 17, 2026, “Alyssa Lies” turns twenty. Plenty of debut singles don’t last twenty weeks in anyone’s memory. This one remains the song most closely tied to Jason Michael Carroll’s name.

Carroll, meanwhile, is still writing. On March 22, 2026, he released Anthem, a 17-song album. Entertainment Focus described it as a deeply autobiographical body of work tracing his journey through addiction, redemption, marriage, fatherhood, grief, patriotism, and southern pride. The singles leading up to it included “Nothin’ But Country” (featuring Petey Pablo), “What Ever Happened to Heroes,” and “I Love You Best,” a song he wrote with Michele Overton after a memory of the way his mother used to say “I love you more” to him and his siblings.

It’s a long way from a playground, a bedtime prayer, and a Monday morning. But it comes from the same place. The songwriter who once spent more than a year agonizing over a single song has, all these years later, made an album’s worth of true ones.

The Hotline Behind the Poster: A Short History of Childhelp

The number at the end of this story has a history of its own. According to Childhelp’s own account, it dates to 1982, when founders Sara O’Meara and Yvonne Fedderson launched what they describe as the first national toll-free child abuse hotline, 1-800-4-A-CHILD, through their Children’s Village USA. In 1990, a computerized phone system gave the hotline the capacity to handle up to five million calls a year.

In 2007, as “Alyssa Lies” was finishing its climb up the country chart and a teacher in Augusta was hearing from her students, Childhelp marked the hotline’s twenty-fifth anniversary. In 2016, the hotline expanded its texting services, and it now offers online chat as well. Childhelp says it serves the United States, its territories, and Canada, with help available in more than 170 languages.

That is the other half of this story. A song can open a door, but somebody has to be standing on the other side of it. For a great many people, for a great many years, that someone has been a counselor on the other end of a phone line.

If You Suspect a Child Is Being Abused

“Alyssa Lies” asks its listener one question: what would you do? The father in the song waited for Monday. The song exists so that nobody else has to.

If you are worried about a child, you do not have to have it all figured out before you reach out. The Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline, 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453), is staffed around the clock by professional crisis counselors, every day of the year. You can call or text, or use the online chat at childhelphotline.org, and contacts are confidential. The counselors are there to talk through what you’re seeing and to point you to the right resources.

If a child is in immediate danger, call 911.

Why “Alyssa Lies” Still Matters

The song is now twenty years old. The conversations it helped start, about child abuse, about speaking up, about the price of looking away, have not ended. They have, in some ways, grown louder.

“Alyssa Lies” matters as a piece of country music history because it proves something that the genre’s best practitioners have always known: a song doesn’t have to be comfortable to be great. It doesn’t have to leave you feeling warm. It just has to tell the truth in a way that makes you feel it in your chest and remember it the next morning.

It matters because Jason Michael Carroll spent more than a year, and a great deal of personal pain, trying to get one song right. Not because it would make him famous, but because something he had read in a friend’s poem and seen on the news had burrowed into him and refused to leave until it was properly told.

And it matters because of a classroom in Augusta, Georgia, where seven children heard a song about a girl named Alyssa and finally found the words.

At Classic Country TV, that’s the mission: keep the stories behind the songs alive. Not just the hits and the chart positions, but the moments that tell us what music is actually for. Some songs deserve to be remembered because they were beautiful. This one deserves to be remembered because somebody listened.

Sources

Songfacts (Shawna Ortega, 2009; Greg Prato, 2015) — Carroll’s own account of the poem, the news story, his father’s ministry, the writing of “Alyssa Lies,” and the stories behind “Livin’ Our Love Song” and “I Can Sleep When I’m Dead.”
https://www.songfacts.com/blog/interviews/jason-michael-carroll
https://dev-www.songfacts.com/blog/interviews/jason-michael-carroll-on-livin-our-love-song-and-his-kickstarter-album

Norfolk Daily News — A 2007 profile with Carroll covering the Augusta, Georgia teacher, the sixteen-week climb to the Top 10, the Garth Brooks phone call, and Carroll on his father and on the song not being autobiographical.
https://norfolkdailynews.com/entertainment/more-truth-being-told-because-of-alyssas-lies/article_4fda44c9-8113-5ff9-902a-46613596b7c8.html

Music Row — The October 2009 cover profile: Carroll’s path from a radio karaoke contest to Nashville, album sales, touring, “Hurry Home,” and the charities he supports.
https://musicrow.com/2009/10/on-the-cover-jason-michael-carroll/

Saving Country Music (Ken Morton Jr.) — Carroll on “Tell Me Your Name (Diane’s Song),” his USO and PGA Hope work, and how “Alyssa Lies” came to be.
https://savingcountrymusic.com/jason-michael-carroll-returns-with-touching-new-single/

Entertainment Focus — March 2026 announcement of Carroll’s album Anthem and its lead-up singles.
https://entertainment-focus.com/2026/03/18/jason-michael-carroll-to-release-new-album-anthem-this-month/

Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline — Hotline contact details, hours, and the organization’s own history.
https://childhelphotline.org

Frequently Asked Questions

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