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Why do bank regulators care about the private prison industry? Most people would probably respond “they don’t,” and that answer would have been correct until a few months ago when the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency (“OCC”) proposed a troublesome new rule on bank lending.
In recent years, numerous social justice movements have used public education and advocacy to successfully persuade banks to stop financing certain industries like fossil fuel extraction, gunmakers, and private prison companies. In response to these generally beneficial movements, the OCC (an obscure but powerful federal agency) has proposed a rule that would prohibit federally chartered banks from considering non-quantitative aspects of a borrower’s business when making lending decisions. In other words, banks could no longer just say “we have moral or ethical problems with a certain industry and will not lend to such companies anymore.” An excellent general background and commentary on the rule can be found in this blog post by Prof. Adam Levitin (Georgetown Law School).
To be sure, private prisons are an unfortunate development, but the Prison Policy Initiative generally agrees with the assessment of Prof. Ruth Wilson Gilmore that the private prison industry receives disproportionate attention. Like Prof. Gilmore, we agree that private prisons are bad actors, but they do not drive policy and they represent a small sliver of the enormous system of mass incarceration. Still, the OCC’s proposed rule bothers us. We may not prioritize campaigns aimed at the private prison industry, but if our allies want to undertake that work, they should be able to. Plus, some of those campaigns have been successful, and those victories benefit everyone by chipping away at an indefensible and immoral industry.
So, we decided to speak up. On December 30, joined by a great group of allies (American Friends Service Committee, Beneficial State Foundation, Families Belong Together, Human Rights Defense Center, In the Public Interest, Make the Road New York, MomsRising, Presente.org, and Worth Rises), we submitted comments in opposition to the proposed rule. With the imminent change in presidential administration, we are hopeful that this bad idea can nipped in the bud.
Details are still coming out about how this new round of stimulus payments will be sent to incarcerated people. As we learn more, we’ll update this article, but we can’t answer individual questions to help readers get their payments. In the meantime, we offer a few suggestions:
People in prison who did not receive the stimulus payment (first or second) may be able to claim the payments by filling out a 1040 tax form and mailing it to the IRS. Some prisons are making the form available upon request.
The National Consumer Law Center has published a helpful FAQ.
The law firm Lieff Cabraser Heimann & Bernstein, which brought the successful California lawsuit about incarcerated people qualifying for stimulus checks, has a webpage with useful information that may be updated soon.
In the wake of the recently passed stimulus bill, many Americans are complaining about the paltry direct payments of $600. Without detracting from Congress’s failure to support the millions of people who need help, it is worth pausing to acknowledge one unexpected victory in the bill: It contains no prohibition on stimulus payments for incarcerated people.1
The previous stimulus bill, passed in March, took some people by surprise by not making incarcerated people ineligible for direct cash payments. The IRS made an ill-advised (not to mention unauthorized) attempt to exclude incarcerated people, but this policy was slapped down by the federal courts. As we wrote previously, because Congress did not exclude people in prison or jail, the IRS had no choice but to issue the payments to incarcerated people who otherwise qualified. Others who made this same argument ultimately prevailed in court and incarcerated people began to receive stimulus checks.
In July, when Congress first started to consider a subsequent round of stimulus, the Senate Finance Committee proposed legislative language that would exclude incarcerated people from receiving funds (both going forward and retroactively). The fact that no such language appears in the bill passed in December suggests that this issue was probably the subject of actual negotiation.
It’s a good thing that Congress stuck to the policy of including incarcerated people in the pool of eligible recipients. Even before the pandemic, day-to-day life in prison and jail was getting expensive, with commissary charges for basic food and hygiene items, and increasingly common pay-to-play e-book and music programs. But the COVID-19 crisis has brought communications costs (phone, video, and electronic messaging) into sharp contrast. In the many facilities that have suspended in-person visits, phone and video are now essential services (which come with a price tag). When incarcerated people lack the money needed to pay for basic health and communications items, the financial burden typically falls on their loved ones on the outside who may have to sacrifice basic needs to support family members in prison.
The second round of stimulus payments will help people pay for basic necessities in prison or jail, and perhaps begin saving to cover expenses upon release from custody. At the end of an otherwise disappointing session of Congress, the inclusion of incarcerated people in the stimulus program is a small ray of hope.
Despite a record number of new COVID-19 cases in prisons this month, some state departments of correction are already starting to roll back necessary suspensions of medical co-pays. Prior to the pandemic, most prison systems charged incarcerated people between $2 and $5 for each medical appointment — a fee that can make attaining medical care burdensome or impossible. In March, we found that many states had relaxed these policies in response to the pandemic, either suspending all medical co-pays, or suspending those for respiratory or flu-like symptoms. But in a follow-up survey of medical co-pay policies, we found that since March, three states have made their policies more restrictive in the middle of the pandemic.
Arkansas, Idaho, and Minnesota had previously suspended all co-pays as of March, but have since reinstated co-pays for non-flu-like symptoms. They are now among 29 states that currently suspend co-pays only for visits involving respiratory, flu-related, or COVID-19 symptoms — a policy that discourages many from seeking treatment. Even worse, Nevada has continued to charge co-pays throughout the pandemic, regardless of symptoms.
Meanwhile, three states have improved their policies since March: New Jersey has suspended all medical co-pays, and Delaware and Hawaii suspended co-pays for those with flu-like symptoms.
Most states are still charging medical co‑pays in prisons despite the ongoing pandemic
Table created December 14, 2020. We welcome updates from states that have revised their policies. States can contact us at virusresponse@prisonpolicy.org.
*Five states — Arizona, Kentucky, Louisiana, Nevada, and South Carolina — did not respond to our survey or to repeated follow-up inquiries requesting updated medical co-pay information.
States that do not charge co‑pays
States that have suspended all co‑pays for incarcerated people in response to the COVID‑19 pandemic
States that have suspended co‑pays for respiratory, flu-related, or COVID‑19 symptoms
States that have not made any changes in co‑pay policy regarding COVID‑19 pandemic
California
Alabama
Alaska
Nevada*
District of Columbia
Connecticut
Arizona*
Illinois
Louisiana*
Arkansas
Missouri
Maryland
Colorado
Montana
Massachusetts
Delaware
Nebraska
New Jersey
Florida
New Mexico
Rhode Island
Georgia
New York
Tennessee
Hawaii
Oregon
West Virginia
Idaho
Vermont
Indiana
Virginia
Iowa
Wyoming
Kansas
Kentucky*
Maine
Michigan
Minnesota
Mississippi
New Hampshire
North Carolina
North Dakota
Ohio
Oklahoma
Pennsylvania
South Carolina*
South Dakota
Texas
Utah
Washington
Wisconsin
Before the pandemic prompted these suspensions, all but 11 states charged medical co-pays. While a $2 to $5 co-pay may not seem like much to a “free world” worker, unconscionably low wages in prisons make even the lower medical co-pays entirely too expensive. Because incarcerated people typically earn 14 to 63 cents per hour, these charges are the equivalent of charging a free-world worker $200 or $500 for a medical visit.
Currently, most states are suspending co-pays for flu-like or respiratory symptoms. But this is not enough to ensure that people are comfortable seeking treatment, and thereby preventing the spread of the virus. As we’ve seen over the course of the pandemic, not all COVID-19 symptoms fall within these vague categories – and many people don’t display symptoms at all. And some states, such as Indiana, have implemented policies that charge co-pays to those who “disingenuously” report symptoms. Policies like these could lead people to hold off on seeking care until their symptoms become more severe. What’s more, it’s likely harder than ever for many incarcerated people to afford medical copays, due to possible loss of paid work for themselves and their loved ones.
Prisons should instead enact policies that mirror the outside world, where people are encouraged to get tested often and carefully monitor their symptoms to prevent outbreaks. Suspending medical co-pays for everyone for the duration of the pandemic – or better yet, beyond the pandemic, as 11 states and D.C. have already done – is a necessary step departments of corrections should take to attempt to stop the spread of COVID-19 in prisons.
As states mandate reducing the capacity of public spaces to slow the spread of COVID-19, we collect the data to show just how overcrowded almost every state prison system still is.
Before the pandemic, nine state prison systems and the BOP were operating at 100% capacity or more. These prison systems were holding more people than their facilities were designed to house. Now, 10 months into the pandemic, we find that there are still far too many people crowded into prisons across the country.1 Despite the ongoing pandemic, and efforts to reduce the number of people behind bars, we calculated that 41 states are currently operating at 75% or more of their capacity, with at least nine of those state prison systems and the federal Bureau of Prisons are still operating at more than 100%. Only one state — Maine — has a current prison population below 50% of their capacity.2
Gauging overcrowding in state prison systems during the pandemic
No matter which measure of capacity you use, most states have way too many people confined in facilities that were designed for far fewer people.
For this analysis, we collected the most recent population data available from state departments of corrections and the Bureau of Prisons and we calculated how full the 48 state prison systems and the federal Bureau of Prisons currently are, based on the rated, operational, and design capacities that state and federal officials reported to the Bureau of Justice Statistics for the report, Prisoners in 2019. (We calculated current levels based on each of these three capacity metrics, and reported the highest and lowest results. Two states, Connecticut and Ohio, did not report capacity data to BJS and are therefore not included.) For population counts and reported capacities, see the appendix table below.
Prison system
Current operating level based on lowest reported capacity
Current operating level based on highest reported capacity
As of this date:
Alabama
153%
86%
Sept. 2020
Alaska
85%
82%
May 1, 2020
Arizona
98%
85%
Dec. 2, 2020
Arkansas
103%
99%
Sept. 2020
California
110%
78%
Dec. 2, 2020
Colorado
117%
105%
End of Nov. 2020
Delaware
125%
91%
May 1, 2020
Federal
103%
103%
Dec. 3, 2020
Florida
106%
106%
May 1, 2020
Georgia
87%
75%
Dec. 4, 2020
Hawaii
120%
119%
Nov. 30, 2020
Idaho
118%
118%
May 1, 2020
Illinois
69%
64%
Sept. 30, 2020
Indiana
83%
83%
Nov. 1, 2020
Iowa
105%
105%
Dec. 4, 2020
Kansas
88%
85%
Dec. 3, 2020
Kentucky
80%
80%
Dec. 4, 2020
Louisiana
92%
84%
July 1, 2020
Maine
73%
49%
Nov. 30, 2020
Maryland
91%
91%
Dec. 31, 2019
Massachusetts
93%
69%
Nov. 30, 2020
Michigan
94%
92%
May 1, 2020
Minnesota
78%
78%
Nov. 30, 2020
Mississippi
110%
110%
Nov. 30, 2020
Missouri
85%
83%
May 1, 2020
Montana
214%
121%
Dec. 3, 2020
Nebraska
158%
117%
Jan‑March 2020
Nevada
117%
80%
Nov. 29, 2020
New Hampshire
117%
77%
Nov. 1, 2020
New Jersey
110%
80%
May 1, 2020
New Mexico
125%
90%
Dec. 31, 2019
New York
71%
70%
Dec. 1, 2020
North Carolina
84%
78%
Dec. 4, 2020
North Dakota
97%
97%
Dec. 4, 2020
Oklahoma
87%
78%
Nov. 30, 2020
Oregon
95%
89%
July 1, 2020
Pennsylvania
85%
77%
Dec. 4, 2020
Rhode Island
63%
60%
May 1, 2020
South Carolina
73%
73%
Dec. 4, 2020
South Dakota
75%
75%
Oct. 31, 2020
Tennessee
126%
84%
Nov. 2020
Texas
101%
97%
May 1, 2020
Utah
84%
80%
Sept. 4, 2020
Vermont
88%
87%
Dec. 4, 2020
Virginia
86%
86%
Oct. 2020
Washington
95%
95%
Sept. 2020
West Virginia
111%
105%
May 1, 2020
Wisconsin
121%
89%
Nov. 27, 2020
Wyoming
98%
94%
Sept. 30, 2020
Prison overcrowding has always been a serious problem, correlated with increased violence, lack of adequate health care, limited programming and educational opportunities, and reduced visitation. But during the current pandemic, overcrowded prisons — and even prisons operating at levels approaching capacity — are more deadly than ever. In a recent study of Texas prison capacity, COVID infection rates, and mortality, researchers found that prisons holding between 94 and 102% of their capacity had higher infection rates and more deaths than prisons operating at 85% of their total capacity, suggesting that a prison’s crowdedness correlates with viral spread.3 This makes sense when we consider that many state and local governments have mandated restaurants, retail spaces, and schools to operate at a reduced capacity to slow the spread of COVID-19 through communities.
Public health and medical experts have recommended decarceration since the beginning of the pandemic, arguing that fewer people behind bars would protect those who remain incarcerated and correctional staff, as well as slow the spread of COVID-19 in surrounding communities. But even as many prison populations slowly decrease in response to the pandemic, there is still not enough space inside most prisons to allow for adequate social distancing or medical isolation and quarantine. Prisons were not designed to address a public health crisis, and even before COVID-19 entered the picture, public health officials knew that correctional and detention settings were breeding grounds for all sorts of communicable diseases.
Throughout the country, states and the federal system have failed to carry out major prison reductions, leaving prisons operating at, close to, or even above their stated capacities. This contributes to deadly outcomes, as close quarters and high rates of preexisting health conditions among incarcerated people exacerbate the crisis behind bars. As a result, our crowded state and federal prisons have a COVID-19 case rate four times higher, and a death rate twice as high as in the general population.
Footnotes
There are three accepted ways to measure prison system capacity. Some states chose to report one, two, or all three of these capacity measures to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. According to the definitions used in Prisoners in 2019, the three major capacity measurements can be defined as:
Rated capacity: the number of people or beds a facility can hold, as set by a rating official;
Operational capacity: The number of people a facility can hold based on staffing and services;
Design capacity: The number of people a facility can hold, as set by the architect or planner.
These three stated capacities can vary greatly within a state. For example, the BJS reports that the design capacity of the Alabama prison system (set by the architect or planner) is 12,412 people, while the operational capacity (based on staffing and service levels) is 22,231 people. In its report, the BJS calculated what percentage of the capacity each jurisdiction was operating at for each of the three definitions of capacity. In a state like Alabama, this can create a wide range — the BJS calculated that in December 2019, the state was operating at 98% of capacity, based on the stated operational capacity, and 176% based on the stated design capacity. But by any measure, there are too many people in Alabama’s prisons for a pandemic.
When drawing these conclusions about the current crowding in prisons, we used the highest of the various stated capacities for each jurisdiction (rated, operational, and design), which, in turn, resulted in the lowest percentage of capacity. In the following table, we provide the percentage of the current populations for both the highest capacity and the lowest capacity metrics, as reported in the Bureau of Justice Statistics. ↩
The article summarizing these findings is a preprint and has not yet been peer-reviewed. ↩
Appendix: State and federal prison system populations, capacities, and data sources
This table shows the different capacities reported by prison systems (rated, operational, and design) and the December 31, 2019 prison populations as reported in the Bureau of Justice Statistics, Prisoners in 2019 report and the most recent population data available from individual departments of corrections.
Reported capacity and population for Arizona, Georgia, and South Dakota include private prisons. All other states do not include capacity and custody counts for private prisons. Because the November 2020 population data from the Tennessee Department of Corrections includes private prisons, we replaced the BJS reported population and operational capacity with data reported by the TDOC that includes private prisons.
Prison system
Prison system capacity (Bureau of Justice Statistics)
Population and percentage of capacity, Dec. 31, 2019 (Bureau of Justice Statistics)
Population and percentage of capacity, most recent date in 2020
The study provides the first estimates of how prisons and jails led to more coronavirus infections, both inside and outside prisons.
December 15, 2020
Over half a million COVID-19 cases this summer were directly linked to mass incarceration, a new report from the Prison Policy Initiative and Professor Gregory Hooks shows. The study provides the first estimates of how prisons and jails — which are “super spreaders” of the virus — added to COVID-19 caseloads on the county, state, and national levels, including infections of people both inside and outside prisons.
“Our findings leave no doubt that locking up millions of people in this country in close quarters has led to mass sickness and death in 2020, both in and outside of prisons,” said Hooks. “This huge growth in COVID-19 cases isn’t the fault of incarcerated people; it’s the fault of tough-on-crime politicians who insist that mass incarceration is necessary to keep us safe.”
In the study, titled Mass Incarceration, COVID-19, and Community Spread, Hooks compared the population density of incarcerated people in U.S. counties to the growth in COVID-19 cases in those counties over the summer of 2020. To get a more direct measure of community spread across county lines, he also measured the impact on county caseloads from prison and jail populations held in nearby counties located within the same multi-county economic areas. The findings include:
At the county level: Over the summer of 2020, large prisons and jail populations within nonmetro counties (i.e. rural areas or those with small cities) directly contributed to higher COVID-19 caseloads in those counties.
At the regional level: COVID-19 caseloads grew much more quickly over the summer among counties in greater economic areas containing large prisons and jails.
At the national level: Mass incarceration led to more than half a million additional COVID-19 cases nationwide – or about 1 in 8 of all new cases – over the summer, including cases both inside and outside correctional facilities.
The report, written to be accessible to a general audience, includes graphics illustrating the major findings, as well as several tables listing the number of COVID-19 cases attributable to mass incarceration in the most heavily impacted states and economic areas. Additional appendix tables provide estimates of additional cases linked to incarceration for every county, economic area, and state in the U.S.
As the report explains, prisons and jails offer ideal conditions for the transmission of the coronavirus and have had the largest COVID-19 outbreaks in the U.S. on most days in 2020. A team of epidemiologists predicted in April that mass incarceration would lead to hundreds of thousands of additional cases in the U.S. In June, the Prison Policy Initiative released a report with the ACLU showing that states were failing at the one effort likely to prevent such a tragedy: the safe reduction of prison and jail populations. As of mid-November, the Prison Policy Initiative has shown, prison and jail populations are still dangerously high.
“Now that we have the first national numbers showing how prisons and jails sped up the spread of COVID-19, lawmakers need to take action to depopulate these facilities, or we will see even more preventable cases and deaths linked to the conditions in prisons and jails,” said Prison Policy Initiative Research Director Wendy Sawyer, co-author of Mass Incarceration, COVID-19, and Community Spread. “Even though the COVID-19 vaccine is rolling out, it will be months before the virus stops cycling through correctional facilities, and the action states have taken so far has not been enough to slow it down. So far, we’ve seen that too many lawmakers don’t care enough about people in prison to take action on their behalf, but our findings show that failing to reduce prison populations during the pandemic has led to more people outside prison getting sick as well.”
Some states are including correctional facilities in their rollout plans. All states and the BOP should do so - and put incarcerated people near the top of the list.
This article has been updated as various states update their vaccination plans. New details have been added for the plans in Colorado, Connecticut, Illinois, Kansas, Maine, Massachusetts, Nevada, Oregon, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin. Our most recent update was on March 2.
As the approaching rollout of a COVID-19 vaccine brings hope of an eventual end to the pandemic, it also introduces ethical dilemmas. With various groups of Americans at heightened risk of exposure, and others at increased risk of severe cases, who should be vaccinated first?
By any reasonable standard, incarcerated people should rank high on every state’s priority list. The COVID-19 case rate is four times higher in state and federal prisons than in the general population — and twice as deadly. And despite the danger of close quarters and high rates of preexisting health conditions among incarcerated people, prisons and jails have widely failed to reduce their populations enough to prevent the spread of the virus. Since March, at least 227,333 people incarcerated in state and federal prisons have tested positive for COVID-19, and at least 1,671 have died. There have also been at least 56,496 cases and 105 deaths among prison staff.
The federal Bureau of Prisons announced in November that it plans to reserve its early allotments of the vaccinations for staff, not incarcerated people. Curious whether this was indicative of broader policy decisions, we investigated how states are planning to address incarcerated populations and corrections staff in their early rounds of vaccination, which may begin as soon as mid-December. To do so, we looked through all 49 publicly available draft vaccination proposal plans, which states were required to submit this fall using guidelines provided by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC). (A complete plan from Minnesota was not available.)
In the draft proposals, states were encouraged to create three-phased plans for vaccine distribution, structured around availability of the vaccine. (Many states further subdivided the three phases into priority tiers, such as Phase 1A and Phase 1B):
Phase 1: Potentially Limited COVID-19 Vaccine Doses Available
Phase 2: Large Number of Doses Available; Supply Likely to Meet Demand
Phase 3: Likely Sufficient Supply
Which vaccination phase each state assigned to incarcerated people and corrections staff
Incarcerated People
Corrections Staff
Specifically listed in Phase 1 (or a Phase 1 subdivision)
We examined 49 state vaccine distribution proposals to see how the states directly or indirectly mentioned incarcerated people and corrections staff. For some states, the answer was obvious. Other states were not specific, but used references and terms that we concluded “probably” or “might” have been meant to include incarcerated people or staff. Of course, if our value judgements are incorrect for some of these states, that would mean that the states are not planning to prioritize incarcerated people or staff at all. Readers should use caution in comparing the different phase numbers between states for two reasons: Not all states used the federal government’s suggested three phases, and whether a later phase implies a longer wait for a vaccine is dependent upon how many people are in the earlier phases.5 The most important decision is whether incarcerated people and staff are mentioned at all. For the details from each state and a link to the original plan, see the appendix.
Our most positive finding is that 40 of the 49 states addressed (or seemed to address) incarcerated people as a priority group at all, in the original plans or in later updates. But in many states, correctional staff are prioritized before incarcerated people (staff were also more likely to receive PPE early in the pandemic).
Missouri, for example, placed corrections staff in Phase 1B, while implying incarcerated people would be in Phase 3, which is also when the state plans to vaccinate “every Missourian who qualifies and needs or wants a COVID-19 vaccine.” The Missouri proposal rationalized this plan by pointing to staff as the likely entry point of the virus into facilities, and claiming that the spread can be controlled inside facilities. “Inmates’ confined nature has been amenable to procedural controls to reduce the likelihood of correctional facility outbreaks,” the report states. “As a result, staff now represent the most likely source of a facility outbreak. Vaccination of corrections staff can vastly reduce this source of potential attacks.” The report did not cite any data or other reports supporting these claims. The Missouri Department of Corrections has reported 36 COVID-19 deaths among its incarcerated population since March, as well as four deaths of staff members.
Furthermore, in a New York Times opinion piece, Emily Bazelon argued that the BOP’s similar prioritization of staff over incarcerated people, especially older detainees, “seems dubious, epidemiologically and ethically, without evidence that staff vaccinations would be enough to stop the spread of infection.”
State plans are often unclear and not specific
It is important to note that many of the states were unclear and unspecific in their plans, making it difficult to determine their intent. For example, many states included a CDC-produced graphic that assigns “critical populations” to Phase 2. Some, but not all, of these states provided further explanation as to how they define “critical populations.” For instance, Illinois’ original plan immediately followed the graphic with an explanation of who falls within “critical populations,” specifically listing, “People who are incarcerated/detained in correctional facilities.” We categorized these states as putting incarcerated people in Phase 2, since the intent was clear. (Illinois has since moved incarcerated populations to Phase 1B.)
Other states were somewhat less clear. Virginia, for example, included the CDC chart without any additional context. Elsewhere in the report, however, incarcerated people were included on a list of critical populations. Although it is not completely clear whether this list can be linked directly to Phase 2 on the graphic (“critical populations” is used in varying contexts throughout the reports), this additional attention to incarcerated people led us to categorize these states as “probably” including incarcerated people in Phase 2.
Other states, however, simply included the graphic without further explanation as to what “critical populations” means in their plans. For example, Kansas included the CDC graphic, but did not specifically mention incarcerated populations as part of a priority group anywhere else in the report. Due to our government’s history of medical mistreatment of incarcerated and detained populations, we did not give these states the benefit of the doubt by assuming they intended to include incarcerated people among “critical populations.” However, when states implement their plans, they certainly should include incarcerated populations in the prioritized “critical populations” category. (And in fact, Kansas later updated its plan to include incarcerated people in Phase 2.)
Similarly, some states were unclear on whether they intended to prioritize corrections staff. The same CDC graphic includes “other essential workers” in Phase 1B. Some states specifically interpreted this to include corrections staff. Other states implied this might include corrections staff, by referring to a document from the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA), which provides an extensive list of who may be considered essential workers (that list includes corrections) — but without mentioning corrections workers specifically in their reports (in these cases, we labeled corrections staff as “Maybe Phase 1B”).
The appendix below includes explanations of how we categorized the states that did not explicitly place incarcerated people and staff into phases. Of course, if our judgement calls are incorrect in some instances, we may have listed a state as “maybe” or “probably” including these groups in a phase, when the state did not intend to assign a phase at all.
Another important point to note is that even among states that were specific, some used phrasing like “persons living in correctional facilities.” While we hope these states intend to prioritize those in jails and detention centers, as well as prisons, we cannot be sure — especially since there is a history of locally-operated jails falling through the cracks in state policy. And some states specifically excluded jails, such as New Mexico, which provided this explanation: “Because of the two-dose requirement, it may be difficult to ensure effective vaccination of facilities where people move in and out frequently such as homeless shelters and county adult detention centers. Two doses could be offered to inmates at state prisons and to adult residents at state and county juvenile justice centers.”
States should prioritize vaccinating those in county jails as well as prisons, both because jails can easily become COVID-19 hotspots, and because this is a way to reach large populations who might otherwise be missed.
Recommendations:
Incarcerated people and corrections staff should be prioritized for vaccination against COVID-19. States and the BOP should not consider vaccination of staff as sufficient to stop the spread of COVID-19 in correctional facilities.
Governors and state health officials should resist inevitable pressure to deprioritize incarcerated people. For example, earlier this month, when Colorado Gov. Jared Polis was questioned about his state’s decision to place incarcerated people in Phase 2A, ahead of some other vulnerable groups, he responded: “There’s no way it’s going to go to prisoners before it goes to the people who haven’t committed any crime.” This type of posturing violates the state’s duty to protect the health of people in its care, as well as to slow the spread of the virus in the places where it is poised to spread the fastest.
Prisons and jails should decarcerate. Since March, public health and medical officials have warned that the only way to protect incarcerated people (and limit the inevitable spread of the virus out of facilities and back into the community) is by drastically decreasing prison and jail populations. Prisons and jails have largely failed on this front.
Footnotes
Oregon’s vaccination plan did not include incarcerated people in any phase. On Feb. 2, in response to a lawsuit brought by incarcerated people, a court ordered the state to offer vaccination to everyone incarcerated in Oregon state prisons, at the same time as those included in Phase 1B, Group 2. ↩
California indicated that incarcerated populations may fall in Phase 1. And Kentucky included conflicting charts that implied incarcerated populations would either be in Phase 1B or 2. ↩
Hawaii placed incarcerated people in Stage 2 of 4; Montana in Tier 3 of 5; Nevada in Tier 2 of 4; and New York implied incarcerated people would be in Phase 2 of 5. ↩
Hawaii placed corrections staff in Phase 2 of 4; New York implied they would be in Phase 2 of 5. (Montana and Nevada also did not follow the CDC phases, but Montana implied corrections staff might be in Tier 1 of 5, and Nevada placed them in Tier 1 of 4, so they are included with the Phase 1 states listed earlier, because that is more clearly comparable.) ↩
For example, Maryland put incarcerated people in Phase 1, but that state’s Phase 1 was quite large, encompassing an estimated 14% of the state population. ↩
Appendix: State COVID-19 Vaccination Distribution Plans
We examined 49 state vaccine distribution proposals to see how the states directly or indirectly mentioned incarcerated people and corrections staff. For some states, the answer was obvious. Other states were not specific, but used references and terms that we concluded “probably” or “might” have been meant to include incarcerated people or staff. Of course, if our value judgements are incorrect for some of these states, that would mean that the states are not planning to prioritize incarcerated people or staff at all. Readers should use caution in comparing the different phase numbers between states for two reasons: Not all states used the federal government’s suggested three phases, and whether a later phase implies a longer wait for a vaccine is dependent upon how many people are in the earlier phases. The most important decision is whether incarcerated people and staff are mentioned at all.
State
Incarcerated people assigned a phase?
Language about incarcerated people
Corrections staff assigned a phase?
Language about staff
Source
Updates
Alabama
Phase 2
Phase 2 states: “ADPH will plan for the critical populations to include homeless, incarcerated, and uninsured persons.”
Maybe Phase 1B
Corrections staff are not specifically mentioned. Does use the CDC Phased Approach chart, which includes “Other essential workers” in Phase 1-B. Elsewhere, the report refers to CISA guideance on who falls into that category, which incudes corrections.
Incarcerated people are not specifically mentioned. Phase 2 does say: “During this phase the Team will introduce outreach to critical populations and the general public who are able to receive the vaccine.”
No
Corrections staff are not specifically mentioned. Does state that during Phase 1B, “additional essential workers who have not received the vaccine in Phase 1A may be able to receive it.”
“People who are in correctional facilities/incarcerated” are listed in Phase 2.
Maybe Phase 1B
Corrections staff are not specifically mentioned, although “protective service occupations” do fall under Phase 1B. The report does use the CDC Phased Approach chart, which places “other essential workers” in Phase 1B. And it refers to CISA guideance on who may be considered essential workers, which incudes corrections. It also refers to the governor’s executive order outlining essential services, which also includes corrections.
“Residents of long-term care facilities and other congregate-living facilities” are listed in phase 2. However, since correctional staff are mentioned specifically, we cannot assume this includes incarcerated people.
Phase 1B
Phase 1B includes “Employees of state correctional facilities” (subsection: “essential workers at increased risk”).
In the phase 1 discussion: “Depending on prioritization guidelines, this phase may also include people in correctional facilities or other congregate living facilities.” This specific mention leads us to believe that if incarcerated populations are not ultimately included in Phase 1, they will be included in Phase 2, which will be used to “ensure vaccine access to all members of Phase 1 critical populations who were not yet vaccinated and also expand our communication efforts to broaden vaccination access to other groups of essential workers and groups at increased risk of COVID-19.”
Probably Phase 1B
Phase 1 includes “critical infrastructure workforce.” Elsewhere, the report says that critical infrastructure is based on guideance from the CISA list of critical occupations (which includes corrections). In addition, the report mentions that workforce data has been collected on corrections, and specifies that non-healthcare essential workers will fall in Phase 1-B.
In the original plan, Phase 2A included “incarcerated adults.” However, Colorado later released updated guidelines. The new guidelines have fewer subcategories, and people living in congregate living spaces — including incarcerated people — are no longer specifically mentioned in any phase. This, combined with the fact that Gov. Jared Polis has verbally walked back the earlier placement of incarcerated people in Phase 2A, suggests that incarcerated people are no longer assigned to a specific phase.
Phase 2
In the original plan, “correctional workers” were included in Phase 1B. However, Colorado later released updated guidelines, which have fewer specifics and fewer subcategories. Corrections workers are no longer mentioned specifically, but they should fall under “Workers serving people that live in high-density settings,” who are now listed in Phase 2.
In the original plan, incarcerated people were not specifically mentioned. After the release of the plan, Gov. Ned Lamont indicated that incarcerated people and staff in state prisons — as well as people in other congregate settings — belong to Phase 1B.
Phase 1B
The original plan was unclear on where corrections staff would belong, but seemed to suggest they would be in Phase 1B. After the release of the plan, Gov. Ned Lamont indicated that incarcerated people and staff in state prisons — as well as people in other congregate settings — belong to Phase 1B.
Corrections staff are not specifically mentioned. The report does say that, “During Phase 1, PODs may be designed to vaccinate first responders, law enforcement officers and essential employees.” It also says the CISA essential worker guidelines will be used in the development of vaccine strategies, but unlike some states, does not suggest that all essential workers will neccessarily be assigned to an early phase.
“Correctional Facilities” are listed as a “Phase 2 organization type.” It also uses the CDC Phased Approach chart, which lists “critical populations” in Phase 2. Elsewhere, a list of critical populations includes “People who are incarcerated/detained in correctional facilities.”
Probably Phase 1B
Uses the CDC Phased Approach chart, which lists “other essential workers” in Phase 1-B. Elsewhere in the report, a list of “other essential workers” (and estimated counts) includes “Staff of correctional or detention facilities.” This specifically includes employees belonging to both the Idaho Department of Corrections and the Idaho Sheriff’s Association.
In the original plan, incarcerated people were included within “critical populations” in Phase 2. In an updated plan from December 31, “sheltered population, homeless/day programs, and inmates” are included within Phase 1B.
Phase 1B
In the original plan, corrections staff were not specifically mentioned, but it seemed like they might be included in Phase 1B. In an updated plan from December 31, correctional officers are specifically listed under “frontline essential workers” in Phase 1B.
“Local public health agencies are preparing for the following types of vaccination clinics in Phase 2: … Corrections (jails, prisons or other transitional correctional facilities)”
Maybe Phase 1
Phase 1 includes “Non-healthcare worker critical workforce such as agriculture and food processing as well as other key critical infrastructure,” but does not mention corrections specifically. The report links to CISA guideance on who falls into that category, which incudes corrections.
In the original plan, Kansas mentioned “individuals living in congregate settings” as a critical population, but did not mention incarcerated people specifically. However, a later update specifically names correctional facilities as part of Phase 2, under “those living or working in licensed congregate settings and other special care or congregate environments where social distancing is not possible.”
Phase 2
Corrections staff were not specifically mentioned in the original plan. However, a later update specifically names correctional facilities as part of Phase 2, under “those living or working in licensed congregate settings and other special care or congregate environments where social distancing is not possible.”
Unclear. Two different attachments list incarcerated people in two different phases. “Correctional Facility Residents” are listed in Phase 1B, as a “vulnerable population” in Attachment 4: Projected Vaccination Target Groups. (Rationale: “People who would prevent the risk of spread if vaccinated.”) But elsewhere in the report (Attachment 3: Framework for Equitable Allocation of COVID-19 Vaccine), “Incarcerated/detained people and staff” are listed as part of Phase 2. This chart notes that this combined population has a High Risk of Acquiring Infection, Medium Risk of Severe Morbidity and Mortality, Low Risk of Negative Societal Impact, and High Risk of Transmitting Infection to Others. “Mitigating Factors for Consideration” says: “Adequate access to personal protective equipment. Effective institutional/workplace management of exposure.”
Either Phase 1B or Phase 2
Unclear. Two different attachments list corrections staff in two different phases. “Corrections Facilities workers” are listed in Phase 1B, as part of “critical infrastructure in Attachment 4: Projected Vaccination Target Groups. (Rationale: “Essential to public order and safety; Working conditions give them elevated risk of infection; close contact with people at very high risk of poor outcomes.”) But elsewhere in the report (Attachment 3: Framework for Equitable Allocation of COVID-19 Vaccine), “Incarcerated/detained people and staff” are listed as part of Phase 2. This chart notes that this combined population has a High Risk of Acquiring Infection, Medium Risk of Severe Morbidity and Mortality, Low Risk of Negative Societal Impact, and High Risk of Transmitting Infection to Others. “Mitigating Factors for Consideration” says: “Adequate access to personal protective equipment. Effective institutional/workplace management of exposure.”
Phase 2 includes “all incarcerated adults in Louisiana.”
Phase 1B
Phase 1B includes “Corrections Officers and Jailers.” This is further defined as “Includes state corrections officers, as well as parish and local jailers with direct exposure to the inmate/prisoner population.” The report gives the following Justification: “Corrections officers and jailers are eligible for early vaccination for reasons similar to Congregate Care Facility personnel. They perform a job that is essential for continued societal function and care for a group of citizens who are in close quarters in a congregate setting. While not typically as at risk as their elderly counterparts in Congregate Care Facilities, many prisoners have underlying diseases that put them at increased risk as well. Similar to the rationale for distribution of limited vaccine in the Congregate Care Facility personnel, assuming inadequate supply for all personnel who fall in this category, prioritization based on community positivity rate is recommended, since the goal is to prevent personnel bringing the disease into the facility.”
In the original plan, Phase 2 includes “People in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings.” However, in a January 13 briefing, Gov. Janet Mills possibly walked this back, noting: “We think it’s first and foremost important to vaccinate the staff. Inmates will come later at a later time, undetermined.” She also noted that incarcerated people who meet the state’s Phase 1B requirements (those 70+ or with underlying health conditions) are “not excluded, they’re not specifically included” within Phase 1B.
Phase 1B
In the original plan, Phase 2 included “People in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings.” A December 29 update answering “frequently asked questions” specifically lists corrections officers as “frontline essential workers” in Phase 1B.
In the original plan, incarcerated people were not specifically mentioned. Later, on December 9, Massachusetts issued an update that includes “congregate care settings (including corrections and shelters)” in Phase 1.
Phase 1
In the original plan, corrections staff were not specifically mentioned. Later, on December 9, Massachusetts issued an update that includes “congregate care settings (including corrections and shelters)” in Phase 1. The Baker administration indicated this would include staff as well as incarcerated people.
“High risk populations, and other critical populations” are listed in Phase 2, but incarcerated populations are not specifically included.
No
Corrections staff are not specifically mentioned. “Populations considered essential personnel” are listed in Phase 2. It further says: “Different categories of essential personnel have been identified and we continue to add to the list with additional critical infrastructure workers.” However, this list is not attached.
“People living and working in congregate settings” are included in Phase 2. However, incarcerated populations are not specifically mentioned. And the state does not seem to expect to complete vaccination of incarcerated populations in Phase 2. Phase 3 discussion says: “Local public health authorities and the state health authority will target vaccination efforts toward the most vulnerable populations, such as… local incarcerated individuals…” This appears to mean that Missouri will give special attention to vaccinating incarcerated populations during Phase 3, which is also when the general population will be vaccinated.
Phase 1B
“Phase 1B includes “First Responders (Examples: non-hospital EMS, Law Enforcement Officers, Fire and Correction personnel).” It includes the following rationale: “Personnel within this category provide essential emergency services that mostly cannot be performed virtually. As a result of these duties, they have unavoidable potential exposures that threaten both their well-being and the community they cannot serve during illness. Accelerated economic recovery and the provision of essential government services require the performance of these duties. Additionally, inmates’ confined nature has been amenable to procedural controls to reduce the likelihood of correctional facility outbreaks. As a result, staff now represent the most likely source of a facility outbreak. Vaccination of corrections staff can vastly reduce this source of potential attacks.”
“The report outlines five “tiers.” “People at increased risk of acquiring or transmitting Covid-19” belong to Tier 3. Elsewhere in the report, a list of “people at increased risk of aquiring and transmitting Covid-19” includes “People who are incarcerated/detained in correctional facilities.”
Maybe Tier 1 of 5
Corrections staff are not specifically mentioned. Of the five tiers, Tier 1 includes “Critical infrastructure workforce,” which cites CISA guideance on who falls into that category, which includes corrections. However, the report specifies that if there is extremely short supply of the vaccine, law enforcement fall at the bottom of Tier 1.
In the original plan, “NDOC Inmates” were listed as #2 of 8 in “Tier 3: People at Increased Risk for Severe Illness or of Acquiring/Transmitting COVID-19.” However, an updated plan placed “NDOC Inmates” at the very bottom of “Tier 2: Critical Infrastructure Workforce by Priority Order” (incarcerated people are #15 of 15 in that tier).
Tier 1 of 4
In the original plan, “Nevada Department of Corrections Staff” are listed specifically in Tier 1 of 4. (The plan does note, however, that Tier 1 will be vaccinated in priority order, as supply allows, and corrections staff are #9 of 10 on the priority order.) An updated plan issued later keeps NDOC staff in Tier 1: “Nevada Department of Corrections (NDOC) staff will be invited to closed vaccination events within their community and are included in Tier 1.”
Uses the National Academy of Medicine recommendations, which list “people in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings” in Phase 2.
Phase 2
Uses the National Academy of Medicine recommendations, which list “people in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings” in Phase 2.
“New Jersey intends to follow the CDC Phased Approach framework.” This framework includes “critical populations” in Phase 2. Elsewhere in the report, “Adults detained in correctional facilities or county jails” are included as a “critical population” under “Adults at higher risk for severe COVID-19 due to congregate living and/or working environments.”
Probably 1B
The report states that “New Jersey intends to follow the CDC Phased Approach framework.” This framework includes “other essential workers” in Phase 1-B, which further includes: “People who play a key role in keeping essential functions of society running and cannot socially distance in the workplace (e.g., emergency and law enforcement personnel not included in Phase 1-A…).” Elsewhere, the report cites CISA guideance on essential workers, which includes corrections. The report indicates that many of these essential workers will in fact be included in Phase 1B, when it estimates the number of “other essential workers,” including those in “Food & agriculture, transportation, education, energy, water, law enforcement, government, etc.”
“Later Phase 1” targets include “Residents of other congregate care settings, prioritizing those with risk factors if doses remain limited.” It further species that this includes prisons but not jails: “Because of the two-dose requirement, it may be difficult to ensure effective vaccination of facilities where people move in and out frequently such as homeless shelters and county adult detention centers. Two doses could be offered to inmates at state prisons and to adult residents at state and county juvenile justice centers.”
Phase 1B
Phase 1B includes “correctional and juvenile justice healthcare providers and staff.”
A chart outlining five phases includes in Phase 2, “those living in other congregate settings.” It does not mention incarcerated populations specifically, but the report further directs the reader to an appendix of “priority groups for more information on critical populations,” which does include “People who are incarcerated/detained in correctional facilities.”
Probably Phase 2 of 5
A chart outlining five phases includes in Phase 2, “Other essential frontline workers that… retain critical infrastructure.” Elsewhere, “Correction/ Parole/ Probation Officers” are listed in an esstential workers chart, with the rationale, “Correction/ Parole/ Probation officers are important for public safety.”
Phase 1B or Phase 2, depending on age & comorbidities
“Incarcerated individuals with 2+ Chronic Conditions or > age 65” are listed in Phase 1B. “Incarcerated individuals without 2+ Chronic Conditions” are listed in Phase 2.
Phase 2 discussion says: “Additional congregate settings (group homes, corrections) will need to be vaccinated.”
Maybe Phase 1
Corrections workers are not specifically assigned to a phase. Vaccinations of staff and residents at correctional facilities are mentioned in the report. And essential workers are referenced within Phase 1, and elsewhere the report refers to CISA guideance as a reference on who is essential (which lists corrections).
Phase 2 includes “Staff and residents in congregate locations and worksites (including but not limited to homeless shelters, group homes, prisons/jails, and manufacturing facilities with limited social distancing capacity).”
Phase 2
Phase 2 includes “Staff and residents in congregate locations and worksites (including but not limited to homeless shelters, group homes, prisons/jails, and manufacturing facilities with limited social distancing capacity).”
Oregon’s vaccination plan did not include incarcerated people in any phase. On Feb. 2, in response to a lawsuit brought by incarcerated people, a court ordered the state to offer vaccination to everyone incarcerated in Oregon state prisons, at the same time as those included in Phase 1B, Group 2.
No
Does not mention corrections workers specifically. Does use the CDC Phased Approach chart, which includes “other essential workers’ in Phase 1-B, but provides no further context on who this includes.
Initially, Pennsylvania did not have a plan publicly available. On December 11, the state released a full plan, which includes people in “Correctional Facilities/ Juvenile Justice Facilities” in Phase 1B, among other congregate groups.
Phase 1B
Initially, Pennsylvania did not have a plan publicly available. On December 11, the state released a full plan, which includes workers in “Correctional facilities/ juvenile justice facilities” as part of the critical workforce in Phase 1B.
Does not specifically mentione incarcerated people. Does use the CDC Phased Approach chart, which includes “critical populations” in Phase 2.
Maybe Phase 1B
Does not specifically mention corrections workers. Does use the CDC Phased Approach chart, which includes “other essential workers’ in Phase 1-B, and states that CISA guideance will be used as a reference on who is essential (which lists corrections).
Corrections workers seem like they will prioritized, but a phase was not specified. The report states that data will be collected from “Correctional Health and Department of Corrections” as part of the effort to estimate the number of essential workers.
Uses the National Academy of Medicine chart, which list “people in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings” in Phase 2.
Phase 2
Uses the National Academy of Medicine chart, which lists “people in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings” in Phase 2.
Uses the CDC Phased Approach chart, which includes “critical populations” in phase 2. Elsewhere in the report, “People who are incarcerated/detained in correctional facilities” are included on a list of critical populations.
Probably Phase 1B
Phase 1-B includes “People who play a key role in keeping essential functions of society running and cannot socially distance in the workplace (e.g., emergency and law enforcement personnel not included in Phase 1-A).” This seems likely to include corrections staff, although they are not listed specifically. It also states that CISA guideance will be used as a reference on who is essential (which lists corrections).
Uses the National Academy of Medicine chart, which lists “people in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings” in Phase 2.
Phase 2
Uses the National Academy of Medicine chart, which lists “people in prisons, jails, detention centers, and similar facilities, and staff who work in such settings” in Phase 2.
Uses the CDC Phased Approach chart, which includes “critical populations” in Phase 2. Elsewhere, a list of “additional critical populations” includes “People who are incarcerated/detained in correctional facilities.”
Phase 1B
In a list of who is in Phase 1B, “correctional staff” is #10.
Wisconsin’s original vaccination plan did not include incarcerated people. A later, updated plan includes “Congregate living facility staff and residents” at the very end of Phase 1B, which specifically includes “Incarcerated individuals: Individuals in jails, prisons, and mental health institutes.” Although those in Phase 1B became eligible on March 1, the state notes that people in congregate living facilities will likely begin receiving vaccinations in April or May.
Phase 1B
Wisonsin’s original vaccination plan did not include corrections staff. A later, updated plan includes “Police and fire personnel, correctional staff” as the very first group to begin receiving vaccinations as part of Phase 1B on March 1.
The report states that “Phase 2 critical populations may include those in congregate settings.” Elsewhere in the report, “Correctional facility inmates” are included on a list of “People at increased risk of acquiring or transmitting COVID-19.”
Phase 1B or Phase 2
The report states that “Phase 1b critical populations may include…essential workers.” However, it seems some workers will be in Phase 2: “Phase 2 critical populations may include additional critical workers.” Elsewhere, personnel of correctional facilities are specifically listed as “critical infrastructure workforce.”
At the International Symposium on Solitary Confinement, researchers and formerly incarcerated people made it clear that isolation causes severe and permanent damage.
On a given day last year, an estimated55,000 to 62,500 people had spent the previous 15 days in solitary confinement in state and federal prisons, often in cells smaller than a parking space.1 Correctional officials often defend their frequent use of solitary confinement as an effective means of maintaining order and deterring violence and gang activity. But this reliance on solitary ignores the abundance of studies demonstrating the harmful and often long-lasting effects it wreaks on the human mind and body.
At the International Symposium on Solitary Confinement, sponsored by Thomas Jefferson University in November, researchers and formerly incarcerated people made it clear that any “positive” benefits correctional institutions gain by using solitary confinement are outweighed by the severe and often permanent damages caused by prolonged isolation. Recent studies show that time spent in solitary confinement shortens lives, even after release, and speakers at the International Symposium emphasized various other ways solitary causes irreparable harm.
Solitary confinement goes by many names, including “special housing units,” “administrative segregation,” “disciplinary segregation,” and “restrictive housing,” but the conditions are generally the same: 22 to 24 hours per day spent alone in a small cell.2 The practice is widespread in jails, prisons, ICE detention centers, and juvenile facilities, and people are often sent to solitary for vague reasons or minor offenses. Black and Hispanic people, who are already overrepresented in correctional facilities, are further overrepresented in solitary confinement. Solitary isn’t just used for short periods of time, either: many people are confined without human interaction for years, and sometimes even decades.3
Prisons and jails are already inherently harmful, and placing people in solitary confinement adds an extra burden of stress that has been shown to cause permanent changes to people’s brains and personalities. In fact, the part of the brain that plays a major role in memory has been shown to physically shrink after long periods without human interaction. And since humans are naturally social beings, depriving people of the ability to socialize can cause “social pain,” which researchers define as “the feelings of hurt and distress that come from negative social experiences such as social deprivation, exclusion, rejection, or loss.” Social pain affects the brain in the same way as physical pain, and can actually cause more suffering because of humans’ ability to relive social pain months or even years later.
Premature deaths — by suicide, homicide, or opioid overdose — after release from prison are more likely for those that spent any amount of time (even one day) in solitary confinement than those who never did.
The effects of solitary confinement on mental health can be lethal. Even though people in solitary confinement comprise only 6% to 8% of the total prison population, they account for approximately half of those who die by suicide. Relatedly, observation cells in prisons, which are used for suicide watch — often with similar conditions to solitary confinement — are disproportionately filled with transfers from segregation. People often cycle between the two units without receiving adequate professional help to address their underlying mental health concerns.
Even if someone doesn’t enter solitary with a mental health condition, it’s possible for them to develop a specific psychiatric syndrome due to the effects of isolation. Dr. Stuart Grassian, who first identified the syndrome, notes that it is characterized by a progressive inability to tolerate ordinary things, such as the sound of plumbing; hallucinations and illusions; severe panic attacks; difficulties with thinking, concentration, and memory; obsessive, sometimes harmful, thoughts that won’t go away; paranoia; problems with impulse control; and delirium.
Robert King and Jack Morris, who spent a combined 62 years in solitary confinement, underscored many of the above findings at the International Symposium on Solitary Confinement. Mr. King noted that after a while, he lost his interest in communicating and experienced an emotional numbness that led to a loss of basic skills. Even since his release from prison in 2001, Mr. King says he struggles with simple things, including his sense of direction. Research indicates that many problems people develop while in solitary confinement often persist upon their return to the general population or their release to the outside world.
The irreparable damages caused by solitary confinement are unjustifiable, and have led the Union Nations to consider solitary torture when used for longer than 15 consecutive days. But this overwhelming research is often ignored in jails and prisons, where solitary confinement is frequently used as a “solution” to nearly every problem that arises, including disobedience, perceived threats, alleged gang affiliation, and even supposedly for individuals’ own protection. And as prisons continue using lockdowns in response to COVID-19, leaving many people alone or with a cellmate in tight spaces for 24 hours a day, understanding the damaging effects of solitary and changing these practices is more important than ever.
Footnotes
It’s possible this number is higher, as this report relied on self-reported data from the state Departments of Corrections, and only counted people as being in solitary if they’d been there for at least 15 days.
In 2011, about 45% of people in the Pelican Bay Security Housing Unit had been in solitary for longer than a decade. A more recent study by Yale Law School’s Arthur Liman Center for Public Interest Law found that 11 percent of people in solitary had been segregated for at least three years.
This article was updated on October 21st, 2021 with more recent jail and prison population data. That version should be used instead of this one.
Since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the strategy to slowing its spread behind bars was clear: Reduce the number of people in jails and prisons. In March, public health and medical officials were already warning that incarcerated people would be uniquely vulnerable to the spread of the disease and its most serious medical consequences, due to their close quarters and high rates of preexisting health conditions.
And yet, more than eight months after the World Health Organization declared the pandemic, prisons and jails have generally failed to reduce their populations enough to protect the health and lives of those who are incarcerated. While state prison populations have slowly declined from pre-pandemic levels, the pace of these modest reductions has slowed since the spring, even as national infection rates continue to rise. And county jails — which made promising reductions in the spring — have failed to sustain those reforms.
Despite the rising national case rate of COVID-19, the number of people held in 514 county jails across the country has increased over the past four months. This graph contains aggregated data collected by NYU’s Public Safety Lab and updates a graph in our September 10th briefing. This graph includes all jails where the Lab was able to report data on March 10th and for at least 75% of the days in our research period. (The Public Safety Lab is continuing to add more jails to its data collection and data is not available for all facilities for all days.) To see county level data for all 514 jails included in this analysis, see Appendix A. This graph presents the data as 7-day rolling averages, which smooths out most of the variations caused by individual facilities not being reported on particular days. The temporary population drops/increases during the last weeks of May and August, as well as the first week of November, are the result of more facilities than usual not being included in the dataset for various reasons, rather than any known policy changes.
As a result of these failures to sufficiently decarcerate, the early warnings of health experts have come true: the COVID-19 case rate in state and federal prisons is more than four times as high as that of the general public, and the death rate is more than twice as high. The Texas prison system alone has had more COVID-19 cases than in four states and Washington, D.C. combined. And since people who work in prisons and jails regularly return to their communities, correctional facilities are dangerously poised to become incubators for the disease and contribute to rising infection rates in surrounding communities.
Initially, many local officials — including sheriffs, prosecutors, and judges — responded quickly to reduce jail populations. In a national sample of 514 county jails of varying sizes, most (88%) decreased their populations from March to July, resulting in an average population reduction across all 514 jails of 26%.1 These population reductions came as the result of various policy changes, including police issuing citations in lieu of arrests, prosecutors declining to charge people for “low-level offenses,” courts reducing cash bail amounts, and jail administrators releasing people detained pretrial or those serving short sentences for “nonviolent offenses.”
But now the data tells a different story. Since July, 77% of the jails in our sample had population increases, suggesting that the early reforms instituted to mitigate COVID-19 have largely been abandoned. For example, by mid-April, the Philadelphia city jail population reportedly dropped by more than 17% after city police suspended low-level arrests and judges released “certain nonviolent detainees” jailed for “low-level charges.” But on May 1st — as the pandemic raged on — the Philadelphia police force announced that they would resume arrests for property crimes, effectively reversing the earlier reduction efforts. Similarly, on July 10th, the sheriff of Jefferson County, Alabama, announced that the jail would limit admissions to only “violent felons that cannot make bond.”2 That effort was quickly abandoned when the jail resumed normal admission operations just one week later. The increasing jail populations across the country suggest that after the first wave of responses to COVID-19, many local officials have allowed jail admissions to return to business as usual.
On the other hand, state prison populations have continued to decline, but not quickly or significantly enough to slow the spread of COVID-19. Even in states where prison populations have dropped, there are still too many people behind bars to accommodate social distancing, effective isolation and quarantine, and increased health care requirements. For example, although California has reduced the state prison population by about 20% since January, the number of large COVID-19 outbreaks in California state prisons suggests that the population reduction needs to be much more drastic. In fact, as of November 18th, California’s state prisons were still holding more people than they were designed for, at 105% of their design capacity.
Prison population data for 21 states where population data was readily available for January, May, July, August, September, October, and November, either directly from the state Departments of Correction or the Vera Institute of Justice. See our COVID-19 response tracker for more information on many of the most important policy changes that led to these small reductions in some states. For the population data for these 21 states, see Appendix B.
Sharp-eyed readers may wonder if Connecticut and Vermont are showing larger declines than most other states because those two states have “unified” prison and jail systems. However, data from both states show that the bulk of their population reduction is coming from within the “sentenced” portion of their populations. (For the Connecticut data, see the Correctional Facility Population Count Report, and for Vermont, see the daily population reports.)
Early in the pandemic, North Dakota quickly reduced its prison population by 19% between January and May 2020, a trend that continued until the beginning of October. But over the past month this trend reversed and the states’ prison population actually started to increase (by 3% from October 8 to November 19). Now, North Dakota is experiencing the state’s first major outbreaks of COVID-19 in prison. In one facility, the James River Correctional Center, more than half of the incarcerated population had active COVID-19 infections as of November 23rd.
According to a October 2020 report from the National Academies of Science, Engineering, and Medicine, the modest declines in prison populations can be largely attributed to changes in arrests, jail bookings, and court closures — not releases. Despite evidence that large-scale releases do not inherently endanger public safety, states have elected to release people from prison on a mostly case-by-case basis, which the National Academies report describes as “procedurally slow and not well suited to crisis situations.”
Thankfully, some states have recognized the inefficiency of case-by-case releases and the necessity of larger-scale releases. For example, in New Jersey,3 Governor Phil Murphy signed bill S2519 in October, which allowed for the early release of people with less than a year left on their sentences. A few weeks after the bill was signed, more than 2,000 people were released from New Jersey state prisons on November 4th.4
Prisons and jails are notoriously dangerous places during a viral outbreak, and continue to be a major source of a large number of infections in the U.S. The COVID-19 death rate in prisons is three times higher than among the general U.S. population, even when adjusted for age and sex (as the prison population is disproportionately young and male). Since the early days of the pandemic, public health professionals, corrections officials, and criminal justice reform advocates have agreed that decarceration is necessary to protect incarcerated people and the community-at-large from COVID-19. Despite this knowledge, state, federal, and local authorities have failed to reduce jail and prison populations on a major scale, which continues to put incarcerated people’s lives at risk — and by extension, the lives of everyone in greater communities where incarcerated people eventually return, and where correctional staff live and work.
Footnotes
The NYU Public Safety Lab Jail Data Initiative has collected jail populations for over 1,000 facilities from January to November. This sample includes jails of varying size, as well as geographic diversity. For each of our analyses of jail and prison populations during the pandemic (including our earlier analyses in May, August, and September), we included all jails from this database that had population data available for at least 75% of the days in the period being studied, and had data going back to March 10. As time has passed, additional jails have been added to the Jail Data Initiative database, allowing us to increase the number of jails in our sample. For this November analysis, we included 514 jails. (We included all 514 jails that had at least 188 days worth of data, representing at least 75% of the days between March 10th and November 15th; had data available on March 10th; and continued to have data available after August 1st). ↩
The news story from Jefferson County does not make clear whether officials are using “violent” to refer to the crime a person is charged with, crimes of which they have already convicted, a label imposed on them by a risk assessment tool, or something else. ↩
New Jersey is not included in the above graph of state prison population changes because the New Jersey Department of Correction has not published monthly population data for 2020. However, in an October 2020 press release, Governor Phil Murphy claimed the population in state correctional facilities had “decreased by nearly 3,000 people (16%)” since March. ↩
Soon after these releases, 88 people who were released under bill S2519 were quickly arrested by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials. A spokesperson from ICE claimed that these 88 individuals were “violent offenders or have convictions for serious crimes such as homicide, aggravated assault, drug trafficking and child sexual exploitation.” However, these claims are brought into question when considering that the releases that took place under bill S2519 specifically excluded “people serving time for murder or sexual assault” and those serving time for sexual offenses. Although we did not include ICE facilities in our analysis, there is evidence that ICE detention facilities have a COVID-19 case rate that is up to 13 times higher than that of the general U.S. population. ↩
Appendix A: County jail populations during COVID-19
This table shows the jail populations for 514 county jails where data was available where data was available for March 10th (the day the pandemic was declared) and for 75% of the days between March 10th and November 15th. (This table is a subset of the population data available for over 1,000 local jails from the NYU Public Safety Lab Jail Data Initiative.)
County
State
March population
July population
Most recent population
Percent change from March to July
Percent change from July to the most recent date
Net percent change since March
March date
July date
Most recent date
Autauga
Ala.
171
158
193
-8%
20%
13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Blount
Ala.
125
117
159
-6%
36%
27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Chambers
Ala.
134
70
2
-48%
-97%
-99%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cherokee
Ala.
110
73
76
-34%
4%
-31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clay
Ala.
38
31
31
-18%
0%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cleburne
Ala.
84
59
70
-30%
19%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Coffee
Ala.
127
77
83
-39%
8%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Coosa
Ala.
27
30
25
11%
-17%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dale
Ala.
74
65
91
-12%
40%
23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
DeKalb
Ala.
167
141
168
-16%
19%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Franklin
Ala.
121
84
88
-31%
5%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Houston
Ala.
393
322
386
-18%
20%
-2%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Jackson
Ala.
177
180
233
2%
29%
32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Limestone
Ala.
251
198
208
-21%
5%
-17%
3/10
7/1
9/3
Marion
Ala.
131
133
146
2%
10%
11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Morgan
Ala.
615
549
608
-11%
11%
-1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pickens
Ala.
106
116
131
9%
13%
24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pike
Ala.
62
37
57
-40%
54%
-8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Randolph
Ala.
64
51
69
-20%
35%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. Clair
Ala.
219
230
198
5%
-14%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Talladega
Ala.
301
219
314
-27%
43%
4%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Washington
Ala.
58
39
57
-33%
46%
-2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Baxter
Ark.
120
83
112
-31%
35%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Benton
Ark.
673
374
582
-44%
56%
-14%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Boone
Ark.
103
73
95
-29%
30%
-8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Columbia
Ark.
78
27
36
-65%
33%
-54%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Crawford
Ark.
215
152
266
-29%
75%
24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cross
Ark.
69
58
49
-16%
-16%
-29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Drew
Ark.
63
34
44
-46%
29%
-30%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Faulkner
Ark.
466
222
323
-52%
45%
-31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Franklin
Ark.
36
21
94
-42%
348%
161%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hempstead
Ark.
68
48
81
-29%
69%
19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Howard
Ark.
41
14
29
-66%
107%
-29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jefferson
Ark.
293
173
187
-41%
8%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Johnson
Ark.
63
27
67
-57%
148%
6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Madison
Ark.
9
1
1
-89%
0%
-89%
3/10
7/4
11/15
Marion
Ark.
42
23
69
-45%
200%
64%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Monroe
Ark.
16
13
9
-19%
-31%
-44%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Nevada
Ark.
55
37
60
-33%
62%
9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Poinsett
Ark.
80
43
90
-46%
109%
13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pope
Ark.
193
133
172
-31%
29%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Saline
Ark.
233
125
200
-46%
60%
-14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. Francis
Ark.
71
36
25
-49%
-31%
-65%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Stone
Ark.
36
34
37
-6%
9%
3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Union
Ark.
199
141
163
-29%
16%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Van Buren
Ark.
78
29
42
-63%
45%
-46%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Washington
Ark.
678
399
504
-41%
26%
-26%
3/10
7/1
11/15
White
Ark.
277
81
208
-71%
157%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Yavapai
Ariz.
537
439
485
-18%
10%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Yuma
Ariz.
427
357
443
-16%
24%
4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
El Dorado
Calif.
383
325
324
-15%
0%
-15%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Siskiyou
Calif.
91
76
87
-16%
14%
-4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Stanislaus
Calif.
1343
1048
1121
-22%
7%
-17%
3/10
7/7
11/15
Tulare
Calif.
1562
1200
1342
-23%
12%
-14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Yuba
Calif.
383
207
212
-46%
2%
-45%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Arapahoe
Colo.
1123
681
789
-39%
16%
-30%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bent
Colo.
55
26
51
-53%
96%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Boulder
Colo.
647
396
453
-39%
14%
-30%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Douglas
Colo.
339
204
272
-40%
33%
-20%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jefferson
Colo.
1258
640
804
-49%
26%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pueblo
Colo.
643
389
446
-40%
15%
-31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Alachua
Fla.
729
664
736
-9%
11%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/14
Broward
Fla.
1706
1576
1658
-8%
5%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clay
Fla.
418
437
448
5%
3%
7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
DeSoto
Fla.
147
162
164
10%
1%
12%
3/10
7/3
11/15
Flagler
Fla.
203
184
182
-9%
-1%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lake
Fla.
18
7
17
-61%
143%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Monroe
Fla.
510
388
429
-24%
11%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Nassau
Fla.
236
177
224
-25%
27%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Okeechobee
Fla.
256
248
282
-3%
14%
10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sarasota
Fla.
866
775
899
-11%
16%
4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. Lucie
Fla.
1303
1219
1305
-6%
7%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Walton
Fla.
435
411
444
-6%
8%
2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bartow
Ga.
671
519
610
-23%
18%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Berrien
Ga.
96
73
94
-24%
29%
-2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Brantley
Ga.
122
124
95
2%
-23%
-22%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bulloch
Ga.
343
251
309
-27%
23%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Burke
Ga.
106
94
112
-11%
19%
6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Camden
Ga.
112
120
130
7%
8%
16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Carroll
Ga.
441
286
358
-35%
25%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Catoosa
Ga.
228
131
233
-43%
78%
2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Columbia
Ga.
276
175
204
-37%
17%
-26%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Coweta
Ga.
412
266
346
-35%
30%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Decatur
Ga.
116
113
152
-3%
35%
31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dodge
Ga.
123
121
126
-2%
4%
2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dougherty
Ga.
579
409
548
-29%
34%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Douglas
Ga.
681
339
564
-50%
66%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Effingham
Ga.
236
149
176
-37%
18%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Elbert
Ga.
95
54
66
-43%
22%
-31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Fayette
Ga.
205
129
185
-37%
43%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Floyd
Ga.
639
464
547
-27%
18%
-14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Gordon
Ga.
290
239
260
-18%
9%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Habersham
Ga.
162
110
133
-32%
21%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Haralson
Ga.
184
111
164
-40%
48%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jackson
Ga.
143
110
160
-23%
45%
12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lamar
Ga.
58
39
57
-33%
46%
-2%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Laurens
Ga.
337
271
294
-20%
8%
-13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Liberty
Ga.
209
171
210
-18%
23%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
McDuffie
Ga.
92
92
78
0%
-15%
-15%
3/10
7/1
10/22
Monroe
Ga.
128
97
140
-24%
44%
9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Oconee
Ga.
27
17
26
-37%
53%
-4%
3/10
7/1
10/13
Pickens
Ga.
77
80
74
4%
-8%
-4%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Polk
Ga.
179
155
159
-13%
3%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Rabun
Ga.
108
58
86
-46%
48%
-20%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Richmond
Ga.
1021
884
1000
-13%
13%
-2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Spalding
Ga.
386
260
350
-33%
35%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sumter
Ga.
157
127
157
-19%
24%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Tattnall
Ga.
87
36
79
-59%
119%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Turner
Ga.
67
65
62
-3%
-5%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Union
Ga.
49
32
55
-35%
72%
12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Upson
Ga.
103
58
114
-44%
97%
11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ware
Ga.
419
341
388
-19%
14%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Washington
Ga.
78
74
97
-5%
31%
24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Whitfield
Ga.
484
350
403
-28%
15%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Worth
Ga.
69
83
75
20%
-10%
9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Buena Vista
Iowa
22
7
14
-68%
100%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cerro Gordo
Iowa
68
36
55
-47%
53%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clinton
Iowa
59
35
63
-41%
80%
7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dallas
Iowa
27
30
44
11%
47%
63%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dickinson
Iowa
13
5
4
-62%
-20%
-69%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hardin
Iowa
84
75
56
-11%
-25%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ida
Iowa
7
1
2
-86%
100%
-71%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lyon
Iowa
14
10
11
-29%
10%
-21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Plymouth
Iowa
41
28
34
-32%
21%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Polk
Iowa
885
520
747
-41%
44%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Scott
Iowa
454
239
304
-47%
27%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Story
Iowa
70
26
60
-63%
131%
-14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Worth
Iowa
8
2
3
-75%
50%
-63%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Blaine
Idaho
64
46
22
-28%
-52%
-66%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bonner
Idaho
151
128
134
-15%
5%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bonneville
Idaho
392
266
250
-32%
-6%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Canyon
Idaho
445
378
351
-15%
-7%
-21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Nez Perce
Idaho
128
84
82
-34%
-2%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Power
Idaho
14
9
10
-36%
11%
-29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Washington
Idaho
40
35
31
-13%
-11%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Douglas
Ill.
24
32
17
33%
-47%
-29%
3/10
7/1
8/19
Kendall
Ill.
156
137
151
-12%
10%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Macon
Ill.
300
256
283
-15%
11%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Moultrie
Ill.
24
28
34
17%
21%
42%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Randolph
Ill.
25
22
31
-12%
41%
24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Will
Ill.
687
601
641
-13%
7%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Woodford
Ill.
52
54
70
4%
30%
35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clinton
Ind.
151
119
158
-21%
33%
5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dearborn
Ind.
233
239
284
3%
19%
22%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hamilton
Ind.
294
208
299
-29%
44%
2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hendricks
Ind.
265
195
239
-26%
23%
-10%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Jackson
Ind.
249
168
202
-33%
20%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Perry
Ind.
66
46
72
-30%
57%
9%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Starke
Ind.
119
92
96
-23%
4%
-19%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Tippecanoe
Ind.
508
397
472
-22%
19%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Brown
Kan.
12
11
28
-8%
155%
133%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Chase
Kan.
132
87
83
-34%
-5%
-37%
3/10
8/24*
11/15
Cherokee
Kan.
81
42
82
-48%
95%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Coffey
Kan.
28
20
26
-29%
30%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Crawford
Kan.
74
51
74
-31%
45%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dickinson
Kan.
20
15
11
-25%
-27%
-45%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Doniphan
Kan.
9
6
5
-33%
-17%
-44%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Finney
Kan.
95
77
57
-19%
-26%
-40%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Geary
Kan.
100
75
94
-25%
25%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/13
Jackson
Kan.
82
53
69
-35%
30%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jefferson
Kan.
28
29
18
4%
-38%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pratt
Kan.
22
12
13
-45%
8%
-41%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Rooks
Kan.
18
9
7
-50%
-22%
-61%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Shawnee
Kan.
540
400
450
-26%
13%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sherman
Kan.
18
24
26
33%
8%
44%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sumner
Kan.
142
41
101
-71%
146%
-29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Thomas
Kan.
14
10
12
-29%
20%
-14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Trego
Kan.
11
6
9
-45%
50%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wabaunsee
Kan.
9
6
8
-33%
33%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Woodson
Kan.
9
8
12
-11%
50%
33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Allen
Ky.
80
40
41
-50%
3%
-49%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bell
Ky.
117
93
132
-21%
42%
13%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Boone
Ky.
453
372
492
-18%
32%
9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Breckinridge
Ky.
211
132
181
-37%
37%
-14%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Campbell
Ky.
588
474
477
-19%
1%
-19%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Carter
Ky.
210
129
180
-39%
40%
-14%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Christian
Ky.
768
522
613
-32%
17%
-20%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clark
Ky.
303
141
154
-53%
9%
-49%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Daviess
Ky.
717
496
606
-31%
22%
-15%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Franklin
Ky.
287
199
189
-31%
-5%
-34%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Graves
Ky.
182
143
150
-21%
5%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Harlan
Ky.
220
168
180
-24%
7%
-18%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Hart
Ky.
190
135
155
-29%
15%
-18%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Jackson
Ky.
128
81
78
-37%
-4%
-39%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Jessamine
Ky.
142
84
80
-41%
-5%
-44%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Larue
Ky.
143
87
129
-39%
48%
-10%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Letcher
Ky.
108
87
95
-19%
9%
-12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lewis
Ky.
69
49
47
-29%
-4%
-32%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Mason
Ky.
184
103
128
-44%
24%
-30%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Nelson
Ky.
116
97
49
-16%
-49%
-58%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Pike
Ky.
443
320
342
-28%
7%
-23%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Pulaski
Ky.
351
227
285
-35%
26%
-19%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Rockcastle
Ky.
102
59
63
-42%
7%
-38%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Rowan
Ky.
321
231
266
-28%
15%
-17%
3/10
7/1
10/13
Russell
Ky.
116
99
91
-15%
-8%
-22%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Taylor
Ky.
239
145
172
-39%
19%
-28%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Todd
Ky.
135
84
88
-38%
5%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Union
Ky.
72
45
18
-38%
-60%
-75%
3/10
7/1
8/14
Wayne
Ky.
193
125
124
-35%
-1%
-36%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Allen
La.
102
64
58
-37%
-9%
-43%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Assumption
La.
101
89
102
-12%
15%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Avoyelles
La.
424
328
320
-23%
-2%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Beauregard
La.
161
137
174
-15%
27%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bienville
La.
41
27
26
-34%
-4%
-37%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bogalusa City
La.
18
10
13
-44%
30%
-28%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Caldwell
La.
610
504
588
-17%
17%
-4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cameron
La.
27
19
12
-30%
-37%
-56%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Catahoula
La.
72
49
52
-32%
6%
-28%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Claiborne
La.
575
463
437
-19%
-6%
-24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
EaSt. Feliciana
La.
244
216
239
-11%
11%
-2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Evangeline
La.
74
57
66
-23%
16%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Franklin
La.
815
688
804
-16%
17%
-1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hammond City
La.
14
11
7
-21%
-36%
-50%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Iberia
La.
403
325
360
-19%
11%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Iberville
La.
106
111
105
5%
-5%
-1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jackson
La.
131
115
138
-12%
20%
5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jefferson Davis
La.
159
72
123
-55%
71%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lafayette
La.
990
528
549
-47%
4%
-45%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lafourche
La.
458
313
322
-32%
3%
-30%
3/10
7/1
11/15
LaSalle
La.
73
58
82
-21%
41%
12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lincoln
La.
246
233
232
-5%
0%
-6%
3/10
7/1
9/13
Madison
La.
35
38
66
9%
74%
89%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Morehouse
La.
464
505
475
9%
-6%
2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Oakdale
La.
1
1
1
0%
0%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ouachita
La.
1134
991
1089
-13%
10%
-4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pointe Coupee
La.
98
72
67
-27%
-7%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Red River
La.
64
54
48
-16%
-11%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Richland
La.
751
583
676
-22%
16%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sabine
La.
203
163
157
-20%
-4%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Shreveport
La.
63
12
28
-81%
133%
-56%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. Charles
La.
458
416
433
-9%
4%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. James
La.
68
40
49
-41%
23%
-28%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. John
La.
146
125
95
-14%
-24%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
St. Mary
La.
223
169
170
-24%
1%
-24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sulphur
La.
11
16
12
45%
-25%
9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Tangipahoa
La.
572
449
523
-22%
16%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Tensas
La.
18
18
23
0%
28%
28%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Terrebonne
La.
645
490
573
-24%
17%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Vermilion
La.
146
129
153
-12%
19%
5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Vernon
La.
131
100
135
-24%
35%
3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ville Platte
La.
16
7
13
-56%
86%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Washington
La.
163
139
190
-15%
37%
17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Webster
La.
627
546
635
-13%
16%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
WeSt. Baton Rouge
La.
320
249
249
-22%
0%
-22%
3/10
7/1
11/15
WeSt. Feliciana
La.
25
14
129
-44%
821%
416%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Winnfield
La.
24
22
29
-8%
32%
21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Worcester
Mass.
766
487
556
-36%
14%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/14
Allegany
Md.
189
138
151
-27%
9%
-20%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Garrett
Md.
9
7
10
-22%
43%
11%
3/10
7/1
8/18
Prince Georges
Md.
884
726
944
-18%
30%
7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cumberland
Maine
349
283
329
-19%
16%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Delta
Mich.
125
105
111
-16%
6%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Midland
Mich.
101
53
68
-48%
28%
-33%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Wayne
Mich.
2086
2129
2802
2%
32%
34%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Beltrami
Minn.
113
86
88
-24%
2%
-22%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Blue Earth
Minn.
114
65
76
-43%
17%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Brown
Minn.
18
16
18
-11%
13%
0%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Carlton
Minn.
33
15
27
-55%
80%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Chisago
Minn.
61
23
39
-62%
70%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clay
Minn.
117
61
89
-48%
46%
-24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clearwater
Minn.
17
11
8
-35%
-27%
-53%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Crow Wing
Minn.
155
98
95
-37%
-3%
-39%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Fillmore
Minn.
7
9
8
29%
-11%
14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hubbard
Minn.
63
30
50
-52%
67%
-21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Isanti
Minn.
57
28
43
-51%
54%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Kanabec
Minn.
45
18
14
-60%
-22%
-69%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Kandiyohi
Minn.
91
66
62
-27%
-6%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lac Qui Parle
Minn.
4
4
3
0%
-25%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Le Sueur
Minn.
23
9
11
-61%
22%
-52%
3/10
7/1
11/15
McLeod
Minn.
36
18
25
-50%
39%
-31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Mille Lacs
Minn.
79
44
40
-44%
-9%
-49%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Morrison
Minn.
31
18
22
-42%
22%
-29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Mower
Minn.
79
46
51
-42%
11%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/13
Nicollet
Minn.
26
12
12
-54%
0%
-54%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pennington
Minn.
34
29
39
-15%
34%
15%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pipestone
Minn.
14
8
8
-43%
0%
-43%
3/10
8/18*
11/15
Redwood
Minn.
12
14
7
17%
-50%
-42%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Renville
Minn.
39
14
21
-64%
50%
-46%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Roseau
Minn.
21
11
8
-48%
-27%
-62%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Scott
Minn.
140
58
89
-59%
53%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sherburne
Minn.
307
261
250
-15%
-4%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sibley
Minn.
9
1
8
-89%
700%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Swift
Minn.
4
3
3
-25%
0%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Todd
Minn.
21
7
27
-67%
286%
29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wilkin
Minn.
9
3
6
-67%
100%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Winona
Minn.
30
17
28
-43%
65%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wright
Minn.
182
98
98
-46%
0%
-46%
3/10
7/1
11/2
Yellow Medicine
Minn.
15
8
16
-47%
100%
7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Barry
Mo.
45
46
57
2%
24%
27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bates
Mo.
31
22
8
-29%
-64%
-74%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Benton
Mo.
35
18
36
-49%
100%
3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bollinger
Mo.
19
13
17
-32%
31%
-11%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Boone
Mo.
252
198
237
-21%
20%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Buchanan
Mo.
217
149
207
-31%
39%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cape Girardeau
Mo.
148
160
219
8%
37%
48%
3/10
8/18*
11/15
Christian
Mo.
101
66
81
-35%
23%
-20%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Clay
Mo.
300
213
221
-29%
4%
-26%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jackson
Mo.
839
688
800
-18%
16%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jasper
Mo.
200
168
165
-16%
-2%
-18%
3/10
7/3
11/15
Johnson
Mo.
202
75
129
-63%
72%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Joplin
Mo.
56
36
31
-36%
-14%
-45%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lawrence
Mo.
77
71
73
-8%
3%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lewis
Mo.
8
7
12
-13%
71%
50%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Marion
Mo.
79
57
70
-28%
23%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
McDonald
Mo.
34
41
29
21%
-29%
-15%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Morgan
Mo.
79
59
115
-25%
95%
46%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Nodaway
Mo.
12
11
10
-8%
-9%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Saline
Mo.
57
43
52
-25%
21%
-9%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Stone
Mo.
65
69
63
6%
-9%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Adams
Miss.
76
82
73
8%
-11%
-4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clay
Miss.
68
51
60
-25%
18%
-12%
3/10
7/1
10/26
Hancock
Miss.
203
196
205
-3%
5%
1%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Jackson
Miss.
338
357
370
6%
4%
9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jasper
Miss.
30
23
23
-23%
0%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Kemper
Miss.
380
371
369
-2%
-1%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lamar
Miss.
106
84
93
-21%
11%
-12%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Lee
Miss.
194
198
228
2%
15%
18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sunflower
Miss.
49
44
41
-10%
-7%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/12
Tunica
Miss.
27
24
21
-11%
-13%
-22%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Broadwater
Mont.
47
35
39
-26%
11%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Chouteau
Mont.
11
18
10
64%
-44%
-9%
3/10
7/25
9/8
Glacier
Mont.
8
10
6
25%
-40%
-25%
3/10
7/1
10/22
Lewis and Clark
Mont.
102
104
99
2%
-5%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ravalli
Mont.
41
38
40
-7%
5%
-2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Rosebud
Mont.
11
10
12
-9%
20%
9%
3/10
7/7
11/15
Valley
Mont.
40
26
24
-35%
-8%
-40%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Alamance
N.C.
361
220
263
-39%
20%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Anson
N.C.
49
50
53
2%
6%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/6
Brunswick
N.C.
244
163
228
-33%
40%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Buncombe
N.C.
504
347
400
-31%
15%
-21%
3/10
7/1
10/14
Burke
N.C.
133
126
149
-5%
18%
12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cabarrus
N.C.
323
192
193
-41%
1%
-40%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Carteret
N.C.
165
100
149
-39%
49%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Catawba
N.C.
302
224
273
-26%
22%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Chatham
N.C.
1749
1205
1350
-31%
12%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clay
N.C.
314
209
215
-33%
3%
-32%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Cleveland
N.C.
324
184
248
-43%
35%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Davidson
N.C.
340
210
246
-38%
17%
-28%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Guilford
N.C.
1051
772
741
-27%
-4%
-29%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lee
N.C.
119
96
127
-19%
32%
7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lincoln
N.C.
148
63
123
-57%
95%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Moore
N.C.
138
100
130
-28%
30%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
New Hanover
N.C.
444
353
465
-20%
32%
5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pender
N.C.
88
66
84
-25%
27%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Randolph
N.C.
255
193
215
-24%
11%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Richmond
N.C.
114
75
104
-34%
39%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Rowan
N.C.
341
223
277
-35%
24%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sampson
N.C.
253
167
211
-34%
26%
-17%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Stanly
N.C.
156
98
129
-37%
32%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/12
Transylvania
N.C.
77
45
40
-42%
-11%
-48%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wake
N.C.
1246
1054
1173
-15%
11%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Washington
N.C.
459
305
290
-34%
-5%
-37%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Stutsman
N.D.
47
35
41
-26%
17%
-13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Williams
N.D.
90
102
96
13%
-6%
7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hall
Neb.
275
198
257
-28%
30%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lancaster
Neb.
625
451
587
-28%
30%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lincoln
Neb.
117
116
118
-1%
2%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bergen
N.J.
618
283
312
-54%
10%
-50%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Burlington
N.J.
375
257
367
-31%
43%
-2%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cumberland
N.J.
337
246
308
-27%
25%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hunterdon
N.J.
46
28
31
-39%
11%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ocean
N.J.
326
242
316
-26%
31%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Salem
N.J.
302
267
326
-12%
22%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sussex
N.J.
75
41
57
-45%
39%
-24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Bernalillo
N.M.
1680
1315
1267
-22%
-4%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Curry
N.M.
183
160
168
-13%
5%
-8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hobbs
N.M.
11
7
13
-36%
86%
18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lea
N.M.
234
138
155
-41%
12%
-34%
3/10
7/1
11/15
San Juan
N.M.
508
312
468
-39%
50%
-8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Monroe
N.Y.
766
587
708
-23%
21%
-8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Adams
Ohio
42
35
45
-17%
29%
7%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Clinton
Ohio
80
52
56
-35%
8%
-30%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Delaware
Ohio
233
160
162
-31%
1%
-30%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Erie
Ohio
129
73
86
-43%
18%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Franklin
Ohio
2002
1503
1758
-25%
17%
-12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Guernsey
Ohio
105
83
87
-21%
5%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hamilton
Ohio
1499
1114
1409
-26%
26%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Knox
Ohio
96
75
75
-22%
0%
-22%
3/10
7/1
9/2
Morrow
Ohio
104
53
60
-49%
13%
-42%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ottawa
Ohio
92
59
58
-36%
-2%
-37%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Pickaway
Ohio
119
110
90
-8%
-18%
-24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wood
Ohio
169
96
143
-43%
49%
-15%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Choctaw
Okla.
29
22
30
-24%
36%
3%
3/10
7/1
8/20
Comanche
Okla.
357
278
274
-22%
-1%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Creek
Okla.
225
149
204
-34%
37%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Garvin
Okla.
67
59
75
-12%
27%
12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Mayes
Okla.
77
93
109
21%
17%
42%
3/10
7/1
11/15
McClain
Okla.
96
59
78
-39%
32%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Okmulgee
Okla.
174
192
180
10%
-6%
3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pawnee
Okla.
53
28
22
-47%
-21%
-58%
3/10
7/1
8/20
Pottawatomie
Okla.
203
184
202
-9%
10%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wagoner
Okla.
89
97
108
9%
11%
21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Baker
Ore.
32
14
16
-56%
14%
-50%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clackamas
Ore.
427
198
220
-54%
11%
-48%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clatsop
Ore.
56
38
50
-32%
32%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Coos
Ore.
81
38
38
-53%
0%
-53%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Douglas
Ore.
200
123
107
-39%
-13%
-47%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Harney
Ore.
8
2
6
-75%
200%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jackson
Ore.
321
251
270
-22%
8%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jefferson
Ore.
60
46
76
-23%
65%
27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Josephine
Ore.
185
145
80
-22%
-45%
-57%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Klamath
Ore.
136
73
100
-46%
37%
-26%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lincoln
Ore.
161
73
99
-55%
36%
-39%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Marion
Ore.
420
274
282
-35%
3%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Marion Work Center
Ore.
90
33
49
-63%
48%
-46%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Multnomah
Ore.
1118
638
764
-43%
20%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Polk
Ore.
109
60
82
-45%
37%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Tillamook
Ore.
64
39
30
-39%
-23%
-53%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wasco
Ore.
132
60
77
-55%
28%
-42%
3/10
7/1
11/9
Washington
Ore.
874
516
566
-41%
10%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Yamhill
Ore.
166
54
96
-67%
78%
-42%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cumberland
Pa.
409
221
243
-46%
10%
-41%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Dauphin
Pa.
1110
864
993
-22%
15%
-11%
3/10
7/1
10/23
Lancaster
Pa.
786
669
682
-15%
2%
-13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Anderson City
S.C.
95
80
82
-16%
3%
-14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Berkeley
S.C.
438
292
356
-33%
22%
-19%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cherokee
S.C.
357
259
333
-27%
29%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Darlington
S.C.
161
129
169
-20%
31%
5%
3/10
7/4
11/15
Kershaw
S.C.
80
86
101
8%
17%
26%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Laurens
S.C.
226
161
243
-29%
51%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lexington
S.C.
498
316
413
-37%
31%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Marion
S.C.
66
58
63
-12%
9%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pickens
S.C.
302
224
188
-26%
-16%
-38%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sumter
S.C.
309
266
272
-14%
2%
-12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
York Prison
S.C.
61
7
27
-89%
286%
-56%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clay
S.D.
12
12
10
0%
-17%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Blount
Tenn.
534
458
488
-14%
7%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Giles
Tenn.
163
128
113
-21%
-12%
-31%
3/10
7/1
10/12
Macon
Tenn.
300
256
283
-15%
11%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Polk
Tenn.
181
154
172
-15%
12%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Roane
Tenn.
206
206
155
0%
-25%
-25%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sevier
Tenn.
390
390
404
0%
4%
4%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Shelby
Tenn.
1807
1412
1311
-22%
-7%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wayne
Tenn.
151
100
138
-34%
38%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Archer
Texas
26
27
30
4%
11%
15%
3/10
7/1
11/14
Bell
Texas
859
762
956
-11%
25%
11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Brown
Texas
161
148
171
-8%
16%
6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Calhoun
Texas
76
84
62
11%
-26%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cochran
Texas
12
13
10
8%
-23%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Coleman
Texas
33
31
24
-6%
-23%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
DeWitt
Texas
81
84
74
4%
-12%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Edwards
Texas
10
7
8
-30%
14%
-20%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ellis
Texas
375
303
348
-19%
15%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/14
Erath
Texas
79
68
72
-14%
6%
-9%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Galveston
Texas
991
839
944
-15%
13%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Hopkins
Texas
159
187
193
18%
3%
21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jim Wells
Texas
61
59
41
-3%
-31%
-33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lavaca
Texas
25
19
17
-24%
-11%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Liberty
Texas
240
271
227
13%
-16%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lubbock
Texas
1242
1274
1238
3%
-3%
0%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Milam
Texas
137
138
138
1%
0%
1%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Parmer
Texas
28
22
19
-21%
-14%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Polk
Texas
184
158
198
-14%
25%
8%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Randall
Texas
413
382
401
-8%
5%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Robertson
Texas
43
32
50
-26%
56%
16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Rockwall
Texas
220
219
240
0%
10%
9%
3/10
7/2
11/15
Shelby
Texas
37
39
40
5%
3%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Terry
Texas
83
89
95
7%
7%
14%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Titus
Texas
133
92
97
-31%
5%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Tom Green
Texas
392
413
440
5%
7%
12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Wharton
Texas
145
100
122
-31%
22%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Cache
Utah
183
108
127
-41%
18%
-31%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Salt Lake
Utah
2138
1166
1411
-45%
21%
-34%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sanpete
Utah
13
14
15
8%
7%
15%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Tooele
Utah
214
169
168
-21%
-1%
-21%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Blue Ridge Bedford
Va.
100
78
108
-22%
38%
8%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Blue Ridge Halifax
Va.
179
172
174
-4%
1%
-3%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Blue Ridge Lynchburg
Va.
466
383
501
-18%
31%
8%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Danville
Va.
363
312
322
-14%
3%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Middle Peninsula
Va.
169
162
167
-4%
3%
-1%
3/10
7/25
11/15
Middle River
Va.
900
733
927
-19%
26%
3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Norfolk
Va.
935
667
871
-29%
31%
-7%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Pamunkey
Va.
376
296
395
-21%
33%
5%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Riverside
Va.
1360
1144
1272
-16%
11%
-6%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Roanoke
Va.
173
145
167
-16%
15%
-3%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Virginia Beach
Va.
1509
1142
1260
-24%
10%
-17%
3/10
7/6
11/15
Virginia Peninsula
Va.
370
310
352
-16%
14%
-5%
3/10
7/1
9/28
Western Virginia
Va.
944
733
825
-22%
13%
-13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Chelan
Wash.
190
143
169
-25%
18%
-11%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clallam Forks
Wash.
17
10
10
-41%
0%
-41%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Clark
Wash.
655
402
427
-39%
6%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Columbia
Wash.
6
8
8
33%
0%
33%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Grays Harbor
Wash.
177
122
117
-31%
-4%
-34%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Grays Harbor Aberdeen
Wash.
20
16
9
-20%
-44%
-55%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Grays Harbor Hoquiam
Wash.
31
19
21
-39%
11%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Island
Wash.
68
45
58
-34%
29%
-15%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Jefferson
Wash.
28
20
19
-29%
-5%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
King Issaquah
Wash.
56
23
41
-59%
78%
-27%
3/10
7/1
11/15
King Kirkland
Wash.
18
8
10
-56%
25%
-44%
3/10
7/1
10/15
Kitsap
Wash.
379
204
282
-46%
38%
-26%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lewis
Wash.
191
144
182
-25%
26%
-5%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Okanogan
Wash.
159
86
94
-46%
9%
-41%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Skagit
Wash.
275
137
178
-50%
30%
-35%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Skamania
Wash.
24
23
28
-4%
22%
17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Snohomish
Wash.
743
369
503
-50%
36%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Snohomish Lynnwood
Wash.
49
10
21
-80%
110%
-57%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Snohomish Marysville
Wash.
35
8
13
-77%
63%
-63%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Thurston Olympia
Wash.
22
7
15
-68%
114%
-32%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Walla Walla
Wash.
83
62
75
-25%
21%
-10%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Whatcom
Wash.
292
200
240
-32%
20%
-18%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Whitman
Wash.
31
17
27
-45%
59%
-13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Yakima
Wash.
871
426
516
-51%
21%
-41%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Brown
Wis.
699
573
609
-18%
6%
-13%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Douglas
Wis.
156
107
168
-31%
57%
8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Eau Claire
Wis.
273
186
175
-32%
-6%
-36%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Kenosha
Wis.
564
427
519
-24%
22%
-8%
3/10
7/1
11/15
La Crosse
Wis.
151
84
82
-44%
-2%
-46%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Lincoln
Wis.
104
69
60
-34%
-13%
-42%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Manitowoc
Wis.
204
171
158
-16%
-8%
-23%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Milwaukee
Wis.
1920
1493
1457
-22%
-2%
-24%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Ozaukee
Wis.
195
161
162
-17%
1%
-17%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Racine
Wis.
753
562
636
-25%
13%
-16%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sawyer
Wis.
114
86
75
-25%
-13%
-34%
3/10
7/1
11/15
Sheboygan
Wis.
347
329
305
-5%
-7%
-12%
3/10
7/1
11/15
*Some jails did not have population data in the NYU database for July. We used the first August population available for those jails.
Appendix B: State prison populations during COVID-19
Prison populations for 21 states where monthly data was readily available for the period from January to November 2020.
Early this year — before COVID-19 began to tear through U.S. prisons — five people were killed in Mississippi state prisons over the course of one week. A civil rights lawyer reported in February that he was receiving 30 to 60 letters each week describing pervasive “beatings, stabbings, denial of medical care, and retaliation for grievances” in Florida state prisons. That same month, people incarcerated in the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center in Massachusetts filed a lawsuit documenting allegations of abuse at the hands of correctional officers, including being tased, punched, and attacked by guard dogs.
While these horrific stories received some media coverage, the plague of violence behind bars is often overlooked and ignored. And when it does receive public attention, a discussion of the effects on those forced to witness this violence is almost always absent. Most people in prison want to return home to their families without incident, and without adding time to their sentences by participating in further violence. But during their incarceration, many people become unwilling witnesses to horrific and traumatizing violence, as brought to light in a February publication by Professors Meghan Novisky and Robert Peralta.
In their study — one of the first studies on this subject — Novisky and Peralta interview recently incarcerated people about their experiences with violence behind bars. They find that prisons have become “exposure points” for extreme violence that undermines rehabilitation, reentry, and mental and physical health. Because this is a qualitative (rather than quantitative) study based on extensive open-ended interviews, the results are not necessarily generalizable. However, studies like this provide insight into individual experiences and point to areas in need of further study.
Participants in Novisky and Peralta’s study reported witnessing frequent, brutal acts of violence, including stabbings, attacks with scalding substances, multi-person assaults, and murder. They also described the lingering effects of witnessing these traumatic events, including hypervigilance, anxiety, depression, and avoidance. These traumatic events affect health and social function in ways that are not so different from the aftereffects faced by survivors of direct violence and war.
Violence behind bars is inescapable and traumatizing
Violence in prison is unavoidable. By design, prisons offer few safe spaces where one can sneak away — and those that exist offer only a small measure of protection. Novisky and Peralta’s findings echo previous research revealing that incarcerated people often “feel safer” in their private spaces, such as cells, or in a supervised or structured public space, such as a chapel, rather than in public spaces like showers, reception, or on their unit. However, even inside their cells, people remain vulnerable to seeing or hearing violence and being victimized themselves.
Participants in Novisky and Peralta’s study discussed graphic, horrific acts of violence they had witnessed during their incarceration: stabbings, beatings, broken bones, and attacks with makeshift weapons. Some participants were even forced into direct, involuntary participation, by being required to clean up blood after an attack or murder. “I used so much bleach in that bathroom … I just couldn’t look,” one participant recalled. “I just kept pouring the bleach in it [the blood], and pouring the bleach in it, and then I would mop it.” As the authors succinctly state, “the burdens of violence are placed not just on the direct victims, but also on witnesses of violence.”
Responses to witnessed violence behind bars can result in post-traumatic stress symptoms, like anxiety, depression, avoidance, hypersensitivity, hypervigilance, suicidality, flashbacks, and difficulty with emotional regulation. Participants described experiencing flashbacks and being hypervigilant, even after release. One participant explained: “I’m trying to change my life and my thinking. But it [the violence] always pops up. I get flashbacks about it … just how the violence is. In a split second you can be cool. And then the next thing you know, there’s people getting stabbed or a fight breaks out over nothin’.”
The effects of witnessing violence are compounded by pre-existing mental health conditions, which are more common in prisons and jails than in the general public. As one participant in the Novisky and Peralta study put it, prison is no place to recover from past traumas or to manage ongoing mental health concerns: “I don’t think it [prison] made my PTSD worse, it just made the PTSD I already had trigger the symptoms.”
Violence in prison by the numbers
Prisons are inherently violent places where incarcerated people (often with their own histories of victimization and trauma) are frequently exposed to violence with disastrous consequences. Because there is no national survey of how many people witness violence behind bars, we compiled data from various Bureau of Justice Statistics surveys and a 2010 nationally representative study to show the prevalence of violence. The table below shows the most recent data available,1 although it is likely that many of these events are underreported.
Given the vast number of violent interactions occurring behind bars, as well as the close quarters and scarce privacy in correctional facilities, it is likely that most or all incarcerated people witness some kind of violence.
Estimating the prevalence of violence in prisons and jails
1,473 substantiated incidents in state and federal prisons and local jails in 2015
Prison is rarely the first place that incarcerated people experience violence
Even before entering a prison or jail, incarcerated people are more likely than those on the outside to have experiencedabuse and trauma. An extensive 2014 study found that 30% to 60% of men in state prisons had post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), compared to 3% to 6% of the general male population. According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, 36.7% of women in state prisons experienced childhood abuse, compared to 12 to 17% of all adult women in the U.S. (although this research has not been updated since 1999). In fact, at least half of incarcerated women identify at least one traumatic event in their lives.
The effects of this earlier trauma carries over into people’s incarceration. Most people entering prison have experienced a “legacy of victimization” that puts them at higher risk for substance use, PTSD, depression, and criminal behavior. Irritability and aggressive behavior are also common responses to trauma, either acutely or as symptoms of PTSD. Rather than providing treatment or rehabilitation to disrupt the ongoing trauma that justice-involved people often face, existing research suggests our criminal justice system functions in a way that only perpetuates a cycle of violence. It is not surprising, then, that violence behind bars is common.
The relationship between past traumas and violence in prisons is further illuminated by a growing body of psychological research revealing that traumatic experiences (direct or indirect) increase the likelihood of mental illnesses. And we know that incarcerated people with a history of mental health problems are more likely to engage in physical or verbal assault against staff or other incarcerated people.2
Violence continues after release
The cycle of violence also continues after prison. An analysis of homicide victims in Baltimore, Maryland, found that the vast majority were justice system-involved, and one in four victims were on parole or probation at the time of their murder. Other research has found that formerly incarcerated Black adults are more likely than those with no history of incarceration to be beaten, mugged, raped, sexually assaulted, stalked, or to witness another person being seriously injured.
“Gladiator school” and ties to PTSD among veterans
While the effects of witnessing violence in correctional facilities have not been extensively studied, Novisky and Peralta’s findings are reminiscent of the significant body of psychological research about veterans, witnessed violence, and post-traumatic stress symptoms. And while a prison is not a war zone, the study participants themselves made these comparisons, describing prison as “going through a nuclear war,” “a jungle where only the strong survive,” “needing to go be ready to go to war constantly,” and “gladiator school.” Veterans, regardless of exposure to combat, are disproportionately at risk for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and can experience the same debilitating symptoms of PTSD that Novisky and Peralta document among recently incarcerated people.
In an article drawing attention to PTSD among our nation’s veterans, journalist Sebastian Junger describes his own experience with symptoms of PTSD after witnessing violence in Afghanistan. Importantly, he points out that only about 10 percent of our armed forces actually see combat, so the exorbitantly high rates of PTSD among returning servicemembers are not only caused by direct exposure to danger.3 The extensive psychological research on witnessed violence among veterans helps us better understand the risks of witnessing violence in other contexts; with the findings from Novisky and Peralta’s study, we can see a similar pattern of post-traumatic stress symptoms among incarcerated people who have witnessed acts of violence, even if they did not participate directly.
Witnessing violence — whether on a neighborhood block, prison unit, or a battlefield — carries serious ramifications. Exposure to this kind of stress can lead to poor health outcomes, such as cardiovascular disease, autoimmune disorders, and even certain cancers, which are compounded by inadequate correctional health care. Previous research has also shown that violent prison conditions — including direct victimization, the perception of a threatening prison environment, and hostile relationships with correctional officers — increase the likelihood of recidivism.
Moving forward
Novisky and Peralta’s study should be read as a call for more research — and concern — about prison violence. Future research should focus on the effects of witnessed violence on further marginalized populations, including women, youth, transgender people, people with disabilities, and people of color behind bars.
The researchers also recommend policy changes related to their findings. In prisons, they recommend trauma-informed training of correctional staff, assessing incarcerated people to identify those most at risk for victimization, and the expansion of correctional healthcare to include more robust mental health and trauma-informed services. They also recommend that providers in the reentry system receive training regarding the potential consequences of exposure to extreme violence behind bars, such as PTSD, distrust, and anxiety.
While it is important to address the immediate, serious needs of people dealing with the trauma of prison violence, the only way to truly minimize the harm is to limit exposure to the violent prison environment. That means, at a minimum, taking Novisky and Peralta’s final recommendation to heart: changing the “overall frequency with which incarceration is relied upon as a sanction.” We need to reduce lengthy sentences and divert more people from incarceration to more supportive interventions. It also means changing how we respond to violence, as we explore in more depth in our April 2020 report about sentences for violent offenses, Reforms without Results.
Vast research with veterans shows that trauma comes not only from direct violent victimization, but can also stem from witnessing violence. Research among non-incarcerated populations further shows that trauma and chronic stress have a number of adverse effects on the human mind and body. And studies done behind bars show us that incarceration takes a toll on physical and mental health, and that accessing adequate care in prison is a challenge in and of itself. With all of these factors at play and with violence undermining what little rehabilitative effect the justice system hopes to have, we are stacking the cards against incarcerated people.
Footnotes
The forthcoming release of data from the Bureau of Justice Statistics Survey of Prison Inmates, 2016 (expected before 2021), will provide updated information. ↩
Based on data from 2011 to 2012, the Bureau of Justice Statistics reports that 14.2% of people who indicate experiencing serious psychological distress in the past 30 days are written up or charged with some kind of assault while incarcerated in state prison, compared to 11.6% of people with any history of mental health problems, and 4.1% of people with no indications of mental health problems. ↩
Studies of U.S. Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans suggest that the lifetime prevalence of PTSD for veterans is anywhere from 13.5% (which is more than double that of the general population) to 30%. ↩
The high cost of calling home from prisons and jails rightly gets a lot of attention in the press, but the industry’s practice of tacking on hidden fees is getting an increasing amount of attention from regulators and the savviest correctional facilities. These fees can be called by a variety of different names and can add up to significant costs to the families of people in prison. The problem got so bad that the companies were potentially making more from fees than from selling their product — phone calls.
The good news is that in 2015, the Federal Communications Commission prohibited or capped many of the fees that companies can charge consumers to open, have, fund or close an account. Most notably, the FCC capped the amount that can be charged for an “automated payment” i.e., to make a credit card deposit via the internet or a telephone keypad, at $3. At the time that the FCC capped those fees, some prison phone providers were charging fees as high as $9.50 to make a deposit, despite the fact that most companies in most other industries would be so thrilled to have customers pre-pay for services that they wouldn’t charge a fee at all.
The even better news is that some correctional systems are standing up for the low-income families that pay for these calls by pushing back against some of these unnecessary fees. We found that 15 state prison systems and at least one county jail1 have eliminated automated payment/deposit fees entirely.
State prison systems where there is no credit card fee to make deposits to prepaid accounts, October 2020
When consumers make pre-payment deposits to receive phone calls from these 15 state prison systems, consumers are charged only for the amount they are pre-paying for calls and not an additional payment fee. In October 2020, we attempted to make deposits to receive calls from each of the 50 states on the relevant providers’ websites, and discovered that in these 15 states, no additional fee was charged. In all other states, a $3 or similar payment fee was added to our proposed payment.
State Prison System
Vendor
Arizona
ICSolutions
California
GTL
Delaware
GTL
Indiana
GTL
Kansas
ICSolutions
Maryland
GTL
Michigan
GTL
Minnesota
GTL
Montana
ICSolutions
New Jersey
GTL
Ohio
GTL
Oregon
ICSolutions
South Carolina
GTL
Virginia
GTL
West Virginia
ICSolutions
Our survey looked only at the results of these contracts, but it seems clear from the available information that this outcome was the result of savvy negotiating by the facilities and not the generosity of the providers. How these contracts came to be is not always readily or publicly available, but we discovered enough evidence from the small number of readily available records to conclude that most or all of these 15 states sought out this result. For example, the original Requests for Proposals in Indiana and New Jersey said that the states would not accept bids that included deposit fees. And while we did not have access to Oregon’s original advertisement, the contract includes a prohibition on charging fees.
In sum, if states want to prohibit their phone companies from sticking their hands into consumer’s pockets with unnecessary fees, they can do so. Fifteen of them already have.
Footnotes
We did not attempt to survey deposit fees for calls from jails, but we know that at least one county jail contract — Dallas, Texas with Securus — prohibits deposit/pre-payment fees. ↩