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The report includes 31 visualizations of criminal justice data, exposing long-standing truths about mass incarceration in the U.S.

March 14, 2022

Today, the Prison Policy Initiative released Mass Incarceration: The Whole Pie 2022, compiling national data sources to offer the most comprehensive view of how many people are locked up in the U.S. — and where they are being held — since the COVID-19 pandemic began. The report explains how the pandemic has impacted prison and jail populations, and pieces together the most recent national data on state prisons, federal prisons, local jails, and other systems of confinement to provide a snapshot of mass incarceration in the U.S.

A pie chart show where people are incarcerated in the U.S.

Highlights from the report include:

  • Prison populations fell by about 16% during the pandemic. However, 10% fewer people were released from prison during 2020 than in 2019, and preliminary data suggests that fewer still were released in 2021, meaning that people leaving prison did not drive the population drop. Instead, the reduction was due to reductions in prison admissions, largely due to pandemic-related slowdowns in the criminal legal system.
  • Local jail populations fell about 13% during the pandemic. Since then, a sample of over 400 jails shows that jail populations are returning to pre-pandemic levels and more than a quarter of jails have higher populations today than before COVID-19.
  • In total, roughly 1.9 million people are incarcerated in the United States.

“Even when the U.S. prison population was at a historically low point in the pandemic, we were still locking up far more people per capita than any other country on earth,” said Wendy Sawyer, Research Director for the Prison Policy Initiative and co-author of the report. “It’s important for people to understand that the temporary population drops during the pandemic were due to COVID jamming the gears of the criminal justice system — not because of any coordinated actions to reform the system.”

The report includes 31 visualizations of criminal justice data, exposing other long-standing truths about incarceration in the U.S.:

  • The U.S. continues to lock up hundreds of thousands of people pretrial every day. A rise in the use of money bail over the last 40 years has driven an increase in pretrial populations.
  • Black people are still overrepresented behind bars, making up about 38% of the prison and jail population.
  • At least 113 million adults in the U.S. (or over 40%) have a family member who has been incarcerated, and 79 million people have a criminal record, revealing the ripple effects of locking up millions of people every day.

The report also tackles frequent misconceptions about mass incarceration related to prison labor, the war on drugs, private prisons, what victims of crime want, and community supervision.

“As the pandemic eases, and with incarceration rates as low as they’ve been in decades, elected leaders face a choice. They can take bold action to continue to reduce the number of people behind bars and invest in community responses that address the core causes of crime — poverty, addiction, and mental health struggles — or they can return to business as usual with incarceration rates stubbornly stuck at globally high rates and ballooning correctional budgets that burn through tax dollars without making communities safer and stronger,” said Sawyer. “The Whole Pie should serve as a call to action for government to finally end our nation’s failed experiment of mass incarceration.”

The Prison Policy Initiative traditionally releases a new version of its Whole Pie report annually however, COVID-related delays in the release of government-produced data prevented the organization from releasing a new version in 2021.

Read the full report, with detailed data visualizations at: https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/pie2022.html.


A new report from the Correctional Association of New York reveals why some people in prison are reluctant to get the COVID-19 vaccine and a lot of it has to do with distrust in the correctional system.

by Emily Widra, March 9, 2022

Over 3,000 incarcerated and detained people in the United States have died of COVID-19 in the past two years, with over 588,000 cumulative cases behind bars. With little sign of COVID-19 quietly fading away, public health officials have been clear, consistent, and accurate that vaccinations are our strongest defense against existing and future variants of COVID-19. But despite widespread vaccine availability across the country, many people continue to be hesitant about the COVID-19 vaccination.1

While the vaccine refusal rates are not generally worse in prisons than in the general population, vaccination is even more critical in prisons. Incarcerated people can’t employ other strategies to avoid getting COVID-19, they have higher rates of medical conditions that make them more vulnerable to severe illness and death, and if they do fall ill, they don’t have the same access to prompt, effective medical care as people outside of prison do. Behind bars, the risks of non-vaccination can be even more deadly, with a COVID-19 death rate of more than double that of the general U.S. population.2

report cover for CANY vaccine hesitancy report in Jan 2022

An insightful new report from the Correctional Association of New York offers the only survey data we know of that explains why incarcerated people are hesitant to accept the COVID-19 vaccination. 3 A report focusing on New York is particularly valuable nationally because New York State was one of the least successful states (by our data 4) at vaccinating incarcerated people.5 The report finds that vaccine hesitancy in prison is rooted in general distrust and suspicion of healthcare in prison, and that the solutions to overcome vaccine hesitancy behind bars are more complicated than in non-carceral settings.

Researchers have determined that the best practice for addressing vaccine hesitancy – in general and in the context of COVID-19 – is to promote transparency, equity, and trust between individuals, communities, and healthcare providers.6 In addition, we know that community engagement,7 messaging and education,8 and timely and accurate information about vaccines are critical for responses to vaccine hesitancy.

The reality is that the prison context inherently undermines almost all of the best practices for responding to vaccine hesitancy.

 

The erosion of trust in prison healthcare undermines vaccination efforts

The major finding of the Correctional Association report is that the primary reason people behind bars are hesitant to get the vaccine is a lack of trust in the prison medical system.
Before COVID-19, incarcerated people were suspicious and critical of prison healthcare: they reported poor quality of care, difficulty accessing medical care, and a distrust of prison medical care. Some incarcerated people in New York cited the Tuskegee syphilis experiment and the water crisis in Flint, Michigan as reasons to be suspicious of state public health initiatives, stating, “My greatest fear is to be a lab rat for the state” and “Communities of color have always been experimented on; why are state officials going to stop now?”

But the distrust is particularly poignant in the context of COVID-19 vaccinations. A slight majority of incarcerated people surveyed by the Correctional Association reported that they generally “trust vaccines” (52%). A similar number (49%) of respondents reported that they generally trust doctors and healthcare providers to make medically correct judgements, but only 9% of respondents trust doctors or healthcare providers in a prison to make medically correct judgments.

two charts showing that survey respondents are less likely to trust healthcare providers in prison than in general Figure 1: Responses regarding trust of healthcare providers to the Correctional Association of New York survey of incarcerated people in New York state. This graph, published by the Correctional Association in their annual report, shows that incarcerated people are much more likely to distrust prison healthcare providers than non-prison-affiliated healthcare providers.

Given that general distrust of prison medical providers, it’s unsurprising that a significant portion of survey respondents were less likely to accept the COVID-19 vaccination if offered by the New York Department of Corrections and Community Supervision’s (DOCCS) medical staff.

chart showing that 42.7% of respondents were less likely to get the COVID-19 vaccine if administered by prison staff Figure 2: Responses regarding likelihood of accepting the COVID-19 vaccine if administered by correctional staff and correctional health care providers to the Correctional Association of New York survey of incarcerated people in New York state. This graph, published by the Correctional Association in their annual report, shows that 42.7% of respondents are less likely to accept the vaccine if it is administered by correctional staff, again emphasizing the inherent lack of trust between incarcerated individuals and the correctional healthcare system.

 

“What works” to overcome vaccine hesitancy hasn’t worked in prisons

Public health experts have established best practices for addressing vaccine hesitancy, but the persistence of this distrust among incarcerated people underscores how the prison setting itself undermines these practices:

  • Trusted communicators are crucial to expanding vaccine acceptance. Most recommendations for addressing vaccine hesitancy emphasize the need for “trusted communicators,” but with limited visitation and suspended programming and volunteers, who are the trusted communicators in prisons? The reality is that most information about the vaccines in prisons comes from prison administrators and correctional staff. In May 2021, a month after vaccines were available to people in congregate living situations (like prisons), John J. Lennon (incarcerated in New York) recommended in a New York Times op-ed that the DOCCS “tap influential prisoners to disseminate accurate vaccine information” and even suggested utilizing the preexisting inmate liaison committees established after the Attica uprising. According to the recent Correctional Association report, the New York DOCCS instead “developed a video featuring Tyler Perry and incarcerated people attesting to the benefits of the vaccine.” The reality is that trust, transparency, and equity have long been eroded by the criminal legal and prison systems, which this video had little hope of repairing.
  • Community engagement is often limited in prisons, where interactions between incarcerated people are regularly restricted. During COVID-19, community engagement behind bars all but disappeared. Programming – including education courses, work-release, treatment programs, and group activities – were suspended in every state prison system (as far as we’ve been able to tell) at some point during COVID-19. Many prisons stopped programming and in-person visits entirely for the better part of the past two years. Additionally, incarcerated people have experienced unnecessary use of solitary confinement during the pandemic. Correctional institutions in the United States have long been distanced from “mainstream” society and community, and in many ways, the pandemic has only furthered that isolation. So while having community members and volunteers who aren’t part of the prison system come in to informally discuss vaccination concerns might have helped improve vaccine acceptance, incarcerated people saw even fewer people from the outside during the pandemic.
  • Disseminating timely and accurate information has proven difficult in correctional facilities. Contact with those outside prison walls has been limited throughout the pandemic, with suspended or limited visitation, increasing restrictions on mail, expensive phone calls, and interrupted programming. But relying on information from only within the prison comes with a high cost for vaccine acceptance: misinformation and distrust of the vaccine can run rampant and unchecked. John J. Lennon reported for the New York Times that corrections officers where he is incarcerated told him that the vaccine was “not tested enough” and that COVID-19 was just “the flu.” A sergeant in the Florida Department of Corrections told The Marshall Project, “If I’m wearing a mask, gloves, washing my hands and being careful — I’d still feel better working like that than putting the vaccine in my body.” Other correctional officials in Florida told The Marshall Project that some of their colleagues believe the vaccine could give them the virus or that the vaccine contains some kind of tracking device.9

The responses to the Correctional Association survey point to a lack of trust in prison medical care providers based on the quality and inaccessibility of care, limited access to information about their healthcare, and the tension between healthcare professionals meeting their duty to their patients while enforcing and complying with directives of the prison administration (sometimes referred to as “dual loyalty“). The DOCCS’ mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent traumatic experiences during COVID-19 in prison, only served to erode incarcerated people’s trust further.

In many ways, the pandemic has served to highlight just how opaque the prison healthcare system is and just how wary incarcerated people are of prison medical care. Moving forward, prison systems must do better, not only by providing better, more accessible, more transparent health care, but also by recognizing their inherent limits when it comes to responding to public health concerns, and adopting better strategies.

 

Specifically, when faced with the current and future health emergencies, prison systems should:

  1. Release more people from prisons. Nationwide, states and the federal government actually released 10% fewer people from prison in 2020 than in 2019, despite the consensus among public health officials and advocates that decarceration is crucial to protecting public health and limiting the spread of COVID-19. To reverse this trend, departments of corrections, state governments, and courts need to work together to release people from prison using any tools they have at their disposal, including large-scale releases like we saw in New Jersey, California, and North Carolina. The Correctional Association report recommends increasing the use of pretrial release, alternative sentencing, early release, medical parole, parole board release, and commutation to rapidly reduce prison populations.
  2. Address issues of transparency and equity in correctional health care. To address these issues in the context of COVID-19, the Correctional Association report recommends expanding the provision of adequate and timely information about COVID-19 and the vaccine, and alleviating gaps in the quality of medical services by expanding preventative care (routine screenings, education, and outreach). To improve general correctional healthcare, the Correctional Association report recommends that the state designate an independent correctional ombuds to investigate and resolve complaints related to incarcerated peoples’ health, safety, welfare, and rights, as well shift oversight of correctional healthcare to the state department of health.
  3. Ensure that corrections officials are dedicated to reducing our reliance on incarceration and improving the health and welfare of those under their care. Corrections officials and decision makers need to take COVID-19 – and the subsequent deaths of over 3,000 incarcerated people – seriously. Incarcerated people’s connection to up-to-date news is tenuous at best, and during COVID-19 (with limited visits and changes in phone call and mail policies), they’ve been even more reliant on information directly from corrections departments. Mixed messages about the realities of COVID-19 from corrections departments (we’ve heard at least one report of a PA system announcement in a Pennsylvania prison facility stating that the pandemic is “over”) and corrections officers’ own vaccine hesitancy and misinformation leave incarcerated people in the dark to the detriment of everyone.

While COVID-19 vaccinations and booster doses are some of our strongest defenses in the face of the continued pandemic and new variants, it’s increasingly clear that prison systems need to prioritize decarceration. No amount of public health education and vaccine messaging will, on their own, dismantle decades of distrust and suspicion of prison health care. Prisons are no place for a public health crisis and government officials should be prioritizing releases and decarceration as both a first response and an ongoing response to emergencies like COVID-19.

 
 
 
 

Footnotes

  1. The World Health Organization (WHO) defines “vaccine hesitancy” as a “delay in acceptance or refusal of vaccines despite availability of vaccine service” and in 2019 – before COVID-19 – vaccine hesitancy was one of the ten greatest risks to global health.  ↩

  2. The COVID-19 death rate in prisons at the end of April 2021 stood at a staggering 200 deaths per 100,000 incarcerated people, much higher than the death rate among the general U.S. population of 81 deaths per 100,000 residents. These rates, calculated by the UCLA Law COVID Behind Bars Data Project, were adjusted to account for differences in age and sex between the prison population and the general U.S. population. For more details about how these rates were calculated, see “COVID-19 Incidence and Mortality in Federal and State Prisons Compared With the US Population, April 5, 2020, to April 3, 2021” published in the Journal of the American Medical Association.  ↩

  3. Although it is outside the scope of the Correctional Association report and this briefing, it is important to mention that there are still instances of incarcerated and detained people requesting COVID-19 vaccines and/or boosters and being denied. For example, a 2022 lawsuit filed by the ACLU on behalf of people detained in ICE facilities reported that detainees had been repeatedly denied booster doses despite obvious medical vulnerabilities.  ↩

  4. Comparative data on vaccination in prisons is very hard to come by as many states do not publish the data, do not publish it frequently, or calculate it differently. But as of our December 2021 survey, New York had one of the lowest rates – 52% as of December 5, 2021 – and almost all of the states with lower rates of vaccination had much older data, dating as far back as June 2021 when the vaccine itself was in short supply. (The Correctional Association reports a figure of 48.3% as of September 2021, which they presumably received directly from the state prison system.)  ↩

  5. New York’s vaccination plan implied that incarcerated people would be eligible early, with “those living in other congregate settings.” However, as of early March 2021, vaccine eligibility had not yet been expanded to all incarcerated people. Availability to people younger than 65 in prison was made possible by a late March 2021 New York State Supreme Court ruling, after which the New York Department of Corrections and Community Supervision began the vaccine rollout to the entire incarcerated adult population. The ruling noted that incarcerated people had been arbitrarily and unfairly excluded from the vaccine rollout plan: state officials “irrationally distinguished between incarcerated people and people living in every other type of adult congregate facility, at great risk to incarcerated people’s lives during this pandemic.”  ↩

  6. “Public Trust and Willingness to Vaccinate Against COVID-19 in the US From October 14, 2020, to March 29, 2021,” Journal of the American Medical Association (2021); “Strategies to Address COVID-19 Vaccine Hesitancy and Mitigate Health Disparities in Minority Populations,” Frontiers in Public Health, (2021); “Psychological characteristics associated with COVID-19 vaccine hesitancy and resistance in Ireland and the United Kingdom,” Nature Communications (2021); “Understanding COVID-19 misinformation and vaccine hesitancy in context: Findings from a qualitative study involving citizens in Bradford, UK,” Health Expectations (2021); “Racial differences in institutional trust and COVID-19 vaccine hesitancy and refusal,” BMC Public Health (2021); “Influences on Attitudes Regarding Potential COVID-19 Vaccination in the United States,” Vaccines (2020).  ↩

  7. “Strategies to Address COVID-19 Vaccine Hesitancy and Mitigate Health Disparities in Minority Populations,” Frontiers in Public Health (2021); “Building Vaccine Confidence Through Community Engagement,” American Psychological Association (2020); “The COVID-19 vaccines rush: participatory community engagement matters more than ever,” The Lancet (2021); “Strategies for public engagement to combat mistrust and build COVID-19 vaccine confidence,” The National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine (2021).  ↩

  8. “Impact of an Education Intervention on COVID-19 Vaccine Hesitancy in a Military Base Population,” Military Medicine (2021); “These are the pro-vaccine messages people want to hear” The Washington Post (2021); “Effects of different types of written vaccination information on COVID-19 vaccine hesitancy in the UK,” The Lancet Public Health (2021).  ↩

  9. COVID-19 is not the same as the seasonal flu, the COVID-19 vaccines and boosters do not give you COVID-19, and the vaccines do not contain any tracking devices.  ↩


In the toolkit, we share tips and lessons we’ve learned over two decades of using data, visuals, and narratives to expose the harms of mass incarceration.

by Mike Wessler, March 2, 2022

Today, we’re launching our new Advocacy Toolkit, a collection of guides and training materials that advocates can use to strengthen their campaigns to end mass incarceration. The toolkit builds on lessons we’ve learned from our two decades of work to improve our criminal legal system. It provides skills-based guides on accessing public records, securing and organizing data, crafting persuasive narratives, and creating impactful visuals. It also includes issue-based guides on protecting in-person visits in prisons and jails, opposing jail expansion, and ending prison gerrymandering. We plan to add additional resources in the future.

Our new advocacy department created this toolkit as part of our expanded effort to support the people and groups on the ground doing the hard work to end mass incarceration.

While most advocacy departments organize campaigns, mobilize volunteers, and pressure decision-makers for change, ours is a bit different. We’re not looking to replicate the amazing work that thousands of people and hundreds of organizations are already doing to reform the criminal legal system. Instead, as a research organization known for using data visualizations and easy-to-understand narratives, our advocacy work aims to help these organizations leverage our expertise to strengthen their campaigns. That’s why our advocacy department will focus on:

  • connecting state and local movement partners and decision-makers to data that can fuel their campaigns for criminal justice reform;
  • identifying and filling gaps where new research would support reform efforts;
  • producing training materials, like the Advocacy Toolkit, for use by criminal justice reform advocates; and
  • providing technical assistance, including identifying reform opportunities (such as our annual list of winnable state criminal justice reforms), giving messaging support, offering expert review of documents and legislation, and connecting partners working in similar spaces.

We hope these new resources will help to strengthen the movement to end mass incarceration. If you use the Toolkit in your work, tell us about it. Let us know what worked, what didn’t, and what other resources we can provide. And, if you’re an organization seeking assistance from our new advocacy department, drop us a line to let us know how we can help.


While some prison systems and local jails have maintained historically low populations, others have returned to pre-pandemic levels, despite the ongoing dangers of COVID-19 and new, more transmissible variants.

by Emily Widra, February 10, 2022

The COVID-19 pandemic is far from over, particularly inside prisons and jails. The death rate from COVID-19 in prisons is more than double that of the general U.S. population.1 As cases and hospitalizations climb outside prison walls, there is no doubt that cases are spiking in jails and prisons across the country. In state and federal prisons, over 2,900 people have died of COVID-19, almost 476,000 people have been infected, and thousands of additional cases are linked to individual county jails. Even now, when more than 75% of people in the U.S. have received at least one dose of the vaccine, correctional staff are hesitant to get vaccinated or receive boosters, and prison systems are slow to roll out boosters to incarcerated people.2 As the more contagious Omicron variant ravages parts of the nation and renders hospitals completely overrun, nearly three quarters of prisons3 are experiencing COVID-19 outbreaks; public health officials continue to recommend reducing prison populations as a primary method of risk reduction. In fact, in October 2021, the American Public Health Association4 adopted a policy in support of decarceration as a public health matter and new research shows the detrimental effect of COVID-19 on all-cause mortality in state prisons. Despite the clear need for smaller confined populations, the data show that with just a few exceptions, state and local authorities are allowing their prison and jail populations to return to dangerous, pre-pandemic levels.

The federal Bureau of Prisons, state governments and departments of corrections, and local justice system officials have a responsibility to protect the health and lives of those who are incarcerated. After almost two years of outbreak after outbreak in prisons and jails, correctional authorities must be held accountable for their repeated failure to reduce populations enough to prevent the illness and death of those who are incarcerated and in surrounding communities.

Prisons

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 the increased health care needs of incarcerated people. For example, although California has reduced the state prison population by about 18% since the start of the pandemic, it has not been enough to prevent large COVID-19 outbreaks in the state’s prisons, and the prison system has witnessed a 300% increase in infections among incarcerated people over the past few weeks and a 212% increase in cases among staff. In fact, as of December 15th, 2021, California’s prisons were still holding more people than they were designed for, at 113% of their design capacity (and up from 103% in January 2021). Considering the continued overcrowding in the California prison system, it’s not surprising that the state is responsible for eight out of the ten largest COVID-19 prison clusters.

Map showing graphs for all 50 states prison population change from January 2020 to December 2021 Figure 1. Prison population data for 50 state prison systems as reported directly from the state Departments of Correction and the Marshall Project and federal data as published weekly by the federal Bureau of Prisons. For the available population data for these 50 states and the Bureau of Prisons, see Appendix A.

Many states’ prison populations are the lowest they’ve been in decades, but this is not because more people are being released from prisons; in fact, fewer people are. Data from 2020, recently released by the Bureau of Justice Statistics, shows that prisons nationwide released 10% fewer people in 2020 than in 2019. Instead, data suggest most of the population drops we’ve seen over the past 20 months are due to reduced prison admissions, not increasing releases. In the states for which we have recent data, both admissions and releases have decreased in recent years, making clear that prisons are not using all available tools at their disposal to stop the spread of the virus in their facilities. The significant drop in admissions to prisons was largely an unintended consequence of court delays and suspension of transfers from local jails early in the pandemic, rather than any dedicated decarceration efforts. Finding ways to continue reducing the number of people admitted to correctional facilities is critical to lowering the number of people behind bars, but to quickly decarcerate, states should release far more people, too.

Line graphs showing admissions and releases for twelve states from 2018 through 2021 Figure 2. These twelve states publish monthly release and admission data for 2018, 2019, 2020, and most of 2021. These data show us a pattern of responses to the COVID-19 pandemic: reducing prison admissions, while releasing fewer people from prison.

Despite evidence that large-scale releases — which have been used periodically in states across the U.S. — do not inherently endanger public safety, most states have elected to release people from prison on a mostly case-by-case basis, which an October 2020 report from the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine charitably described as “procedurally slow and not well suited to crisis situations.” In short, this choice ignores the crisis of COVID-19.

line graph comparing change in prison population change in New Jersey to national average

Thankfully, some states have recognized the inefficiency of case-by-case releases and the necessity of larger-scale releases. For example, in New Jersey, Governor Phil Murphy signed bill S2519 in October 2020, 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, 2020.5 In February 2021, North Carolina Governor Roy Cooper announced a legal settlement had been reached to release 3,500 people in state custody (with 1,500 of those releases to take place within 90 days). The releases were the result of a NAACP lawsuit challenging prison conditions in North Carolina during COVID-19. The state said it would release people using discretionary sentence credits (similar to “good time credits”), home confinement, and post-release supervision. But these instances of larger-scale release efforts taking place in state prison systems are the exception, not the rule.

Jails

Jail populations, like prison populations, are lower now than they were pre-pandemic. Initially, many local officials — including sheriffs, prosecutors, and judges — responded quickly to COVID-19 and reduced their jail populations. In a national sample of 415 county jails of varying sizes, almost all (98%) decreased their populations from March to May of 2020, resulting in an average change of a 33% population decrease across all 415 jails at the start of COVID-19. 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 those early-pandemic, common-sense policy changes didn’t last long. Between May 2020 and February 2021, the populations of 83% of the jails in our sample increased, reversing course from the earlier months of the pandemic. As of December 2021, 28% of the jails in our sample have higher populations now than they did in March 2020.6 Overall, the average population change across these 415 jails from March 2020 to December 2021 has diminished to only a 10% decrease, while the average population change from July 2021 to December 2021 has dropped to 0%, suggesting that the early reforms instituted to mitigate COVID-19 have largely been abandoned.

For example, by mid-April 2020, 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 just two weeks later — 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, 2020, the sheriff of Jefferson County (Birmingham), Alabama, announced that the jail would limit admissions to only “violent felons that cannot make bond.” 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.

Line graph of population change from March 2020 to December 2021 across 415 county jails Figure 3. Jails across the country initially responded to COVID-19 by reducing the number of people detained, but that trend reversed direction in May 2020, only two months after the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic. Since May 2020, the data show a trend of jail populations slowly increasing. This graph contains aggregated data collected and provided by NYU’s Public Safety Lab and updates a graph in our October 2021 analysis. It 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, which ended December 31, 2021. (Data are not available for all facilities for all days, and the Lab interpolated missing data to fill those gaps.) This graph presents the data as 7-day rolling averages, which smooths out most of the variations caused by individual facilities not reporting population data on particular days. To see county level data for all 415 jails included in this analysis, see Appendix B.

In New York City, the jail population sharply declined after the pandemic was declared. Importantly, NYC jails – particularly Rikers Island – were some of the first jails in the country to witness a COVID-19 outbreak. And yet, across different demographics, NYC jail populations have slowly leveled out, suggesting that the policies responsible for the necessary decarceration are no longer in practice. In addition to suffering the effects of COVID-19, Rikers Island is also facing an unprecedented crisis following a history of over-incarceration and, according to a federal monitor, “decades of mismanagement.” At a time when jail populations should be at an all-time low, Rikers Island’s confined population surpassed the pre-COVID-19 population in July 2021. The population only dropped back down below the pre-pandemic level at the end of September 2021, when Gov. Hochul signed the Less is More Act, which reduced the number jailed for technical violations of supervision.

Line graph showing percent change in daily count of NYC jail population from January 2020 to December 2021. Figure 4. Graph showing the daily count of the NYC jail population by 5 key metrics. By all metrics, the NYC jail population dropped quickly at the start of the pandemic, but then started to rise again. On July 29, 2021 the total NYC jail population was higher than before the pandemic. Critically, the number of people detained pretrial has actually grown — from 4,284 on January 1, 2020 to 4,881 people on December 31, 2021 (with a peak of 5,768 in early July 2021) — likely because of the rollback of significant bail reform efforts last year. The population drops in September 2021 are encouraging but are largely the consequence of Governor Hochul signing the Less is More Act, releasing people on technical violations from jail, and therefore represent a helpful policy change that will reduce the population. However, the steep slope of the decline in September 2021 is unlikely to continue at that rate on its own without additional policy changes. Even with these reforms, the October 1st NYC jail population was only 7% below its pre-pandemic levels.
(Dotted lines connect periods with missing data, so the start of each dotted line and their bends represent specific historical data points.)

Even before COVID-19, prisons and jails were a threat to public health and considered notoriously dangerous places during any sort of viral outbreak. As the U.S. Supreme Court recognized years before the pandemic, by taking away a person’s ability to care for their own medical needs, carceral facilities must make sure that those who are incarcerated receive proper medical care–failure to do so can constitute a violation of of the Eighth Amendment’s guarantee against cruel and unusual punishment and necessitate a reduction in the carceral population. And yet, correctional facilities continue to be the source of a large number of infections in the U.S. The COVID-19 death rate in prisons is almost 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. Decarceration efforts must include releasing more people from prisons and jails. Despite this knowledge, state, federal, and local authorities have failed to release people from prisons and jails on a scale sufficient to protect incarcerated people’s lives – and by extension, the lives of everyone in the communities where incarcerated people eventually return, and where correctional staff live and work.

 
 
 

Footnotes

  1. The COVID-19 death rate in prisons at the end of April 2021 stood at a staggering 200 deaths per 100,000 incarcerated people, much higher than the death rate among the general U.S. population of 81 deaths per 100,000 residents. These rates, calculated by the UCLA COVID-19 Behind Bars Data Project, were adjusted to account for differences in age and sex between the prison population and the general U.S. population. For more details about how these rates were calculated, see “COVID-19 Incidence and Mortality in Federal and State Prisons Compared With the US Population, April 5, 2020, to April 3, 2021” published in the Journal of the American Medical Association.  ↩

  2. Among correctional staff exempt from vaccination mandates, adherence to other protective measures is also inadequate. In California, the twice-weekly testing requirement applies to about 10,000 unvaccinated correctional staff, but “nearly a third of [those employees] weren’t complying [with testing] from mid-October through mid-November, according to the most recent data provided by corrections officials.”  ↩

  3. A recent report from the UCLA COVID-19 Behind Bars Data Project reveals that among the 984 prisons publishing COVID-19 data, 72% reported a COVID-19 outbreak in January 2022.  ↩

  4. The American Public Health Association (APHA) stance includes recommendations for “moving toward the abolition of carceral systems and building in their stead just and equitable structures that advance the public’s health by (1) urgently reducing the incarcerated population; (2) divesting from carceral systems and investing in the societal determinants of health (e.g., housing, employment); (3) committing to noncarceral measures for accountability, safety, and well-being; (4) restoring voting rights to formerly and currently incarcerated people; and (5) funding research to evaluate policy determinants of exposure to the carceral system and proposed alternatives.”  ↩

  5. Unfortunately, this major victory for public health was immediately undercut by the federal Immigration and Custom Enforcement (ICE) agency which quickly arrested 88 people who were released under bill S2519. 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.  ↩

  6. 118 jails (28% of our sample) have higher populations now than they had before COVID-19. Some of those jails include large county jails with more than 500 people, including Wayne County, Mich., Lubbock and Galveston Counties, Tex., St. Lucie County, Fla., Prince George’s County, Md., and Bergen County, N.J.  ↩

 
 
 

Appendix A: State and federal prison populations during COVID‑19

Prison populations for the federal Bureau of Prisons and all 50 state prison systems from January 2020 through December 2021. When available, we used prison populations as reported by Departments of Correction to The Marshall Project. If that data point was not available, we then used either the monthly average daily population (ADP) or point-in-time population counts. For the federal system, we used the first weekly population each week as reported by the Bureau of Prisons.

Prison system January 2020 February 2020 March 2020 April 2020 May 2020 June 2020 July 2020 August 2020 September 2020 October 2020 November 2020 December 2020 January 2021 February 2021 March 2021 April 2021 May 2021 June 2021 July 2021 August 2021 September 2021 October 2021 November 2021 December 2021 Sources
Alabama 21,154 21,272 21,114 20,655 20,170 19,752 19,342 18,901 18,693 18,262 17,914 17,725 17,454 17,308 17,134 17,051 16,792 17,189 17,724 17,765 17,769 The Marshall Project
& DOC Monthly Reports
Alaska 4,776 4,277 4,216 4,334 4,414 4,511 4,586 4,581 4,559 4,523 4,505 4,493 4,478 4,487 The Marshall Project
Arizona 42,422 42,282 42,360 41,777 41,005 40,529 39,339 39,153 38,894 38,495 38,141 37,731 37,396 36,975 36,704 36,569 36,266 35,954 35,746 35,489 35,410 34,643 34,202 33,855 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly capacity reports
Arkansas 17,989 18,181 17,860 17,331 16,694 16,552 16,511 16,367 16,215 16,311 16,165 16,094 16,119 16,120 16,085 16,250 16,476 16,560 16,638 16,655 16,698 16,821 DOC monthly director’s board reports
California 117,454 117,432 117,639 113,632 111,072 109,800 102,715 97,342 94,852 94,433 94,179 92,350 91,341 91,516 92,079 92,836 94,103 95,107 95,809 96,194 95,950 96,253 96,556 96,478 The Marshall Project
& CDCR weekly population reports
Colorado 17,751 17,600 17,585 16,382 15,797 15,807 15,531 15,022 14,935 14,673 14,257 13,687 13,558 13,556 13,553 13,537 13,650 13,730 13,968 14,042 14,009 14,149 14,271 14,322 The Marshall Project
& DOC end-of-month population reports
Connecticut 12,381 12,386 12,290 11,454 10,640 10,206 9,645 9,391 9,348 9,233 9,111 9,053 9,100 9,039 9,011 8,947 8,965 9,009 9,143 9,253 9,357 9,426 9,518 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
Delaware 5,194 5,156 5,042 4,624 4,233 4,195 4,216 4,322 4,457 4,168 4,358 4,677 4,360 4,326 4,269 4,267 The Marshall Project
Federal 164,284 163,635 163,886 163,498 157,340 151,066 145,399 143,071 140,970 140,540 139,446 138,776 137,084 137,361 137,260 137,686 137,633 138,394 138,773 140,295 140,627 140,518 140,803 141,598 BOP weekly population report
Florida 93,764 91,828 88,305 85,839 84,601 82,997 82,027 81,795 79,523 79,322 79,476 79,660 80,298 80,271 The Marshall Project
Georgia 55,218 55,221 55,025 55,019 53,642 51,219 51,213 50,446 49,848 49,365 48,433 48,132 47,703 47,027 46,530 46,309 46,195 46,296 47,364 47,515 47,409 47,736 47,658 47,815 The Marshall Project
& DOC weekly reports
Hawaii 5,208 5,258 4,836 4,260 4,311 4,404 4,508 4,162 4,140 4,184 4,183 4,171 4,200 4,153 4,117 4,084 4,134 4,104 4,113 4,149 4,134 4,114 4,145 4,126 The Marshall Project
& DPS monthly reports
Idaho 7,816 7,641 7,798 7,626 7,426 7,155 7,496 7,407 7,343 7,461 7,827 7,867 7,921 7,878 The Marshall Project
Illinois 36,931 34,668 31,945 31,195 31,236 31,002 30,651 30,001 29,225 29,151 28,160 27,503 27,313 27,313 The Marshall Project
Indiana 27,268 27,298 26,891 26,936 26,418 26,409 25,385 25,691 24,513 24,350 24,203 23,978 23,726 23,745 23,745 23,769 23,554 23,510 23,464 23,435 23,388 23,332 23,229 23,035 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
Iowa 8,474 8,533 8,401 7,902 7,600 7,493 7,362 7,395 7,415 7,441 7,542 7,489 7,554 7,627 7,673 7,680 7,717 7,741 7,790 7,852 7,951 8,042 8,106 The Marshall Project
& DOC daily statistics
Kansas 9,804 9,673 9,091 8,735 8,580 8,486 8,414 8,408 8,574 8,665 8,719 8,745 8,682 8,650 8,556 8,530 8,445 8,457 8,400 8,345 8,351 The Marshall Project
& DOC end-of-month reports
Kentucky 12,306 12,225 12,162 11,782 11,549 11,272 11,002 10,589 10,391 10,242 10,151 9,854 9,706 9,655 9,625 9,708 9,899 9,930 9,967 10,084 9,990 9,986 9,955 9,835 The Marshall Project
& DOC daily count sheets
Louisiana 15,019 15,067 15,066 14,967 14,775 14,623 14,443 14,313 14,241 14,134 14,052 13,903 13,822 13,722 13,724 13,546 13,522 The Marshall Project
& DOC population trends report
Maine 2,176 2,170 2,138 2,019 1,922 1,922 1,828 1,788 1,783 1,779 1,766 1,718 1,695 1,712 1,679 1,672 1,661 1,603 1,614 1,609 1,597 1,592 1,610 1,599 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
Maryland 20,314 19,731 19,109 17,635 17,455 18,003 18,280 18,426 The Marshall Project
Massachusetts 7,958 7,950 7,841 7,466 7,260 7,125 7,033 6,973 6,891 6,778 6,729 6,609 6,570 6,524 6,374 6,363 6,318 6,303 6,268 6,180 6,165 6,117 6,098 6,002 The Marshall Project
& DOC weekly counts
Michigan 37,687 35,798 35,798 34,973 34,561 34,134 33,917 33,617 33,370 33,185 32,962 32,822 32,698 The Marshall Project
Minnesota 9,381 8,904 8,718 8,402 8,330 7,736 7,576 7,674 7,549 7,427 7,315 7,327 7,342 7,228 7,251 7,369 7,511 The Marshall Project
& DOC population summary reports
Mississippi 19,147 19,031 18,886 17,794 18,045 17,651 17,448 17,390 17,303 17,274 17,224 17,118 17,137 17,070 17,099 17,225 17,267 17,264 17,380 17,316 17,209 17,187 17,011 16,953 The Marshall Project
& DOC daily population reports
Missouri 25,740 25,133 24,000 23,877 23,777 23,602 23,554 23,397 23,106 23,037 22,783 22,939 23,044 23,057 The Marshall Project
Montana 4,508 4,318 3,962 3,907 3,886 3,812 3,746 3,709 3,620 3,686 3,762 3,782 3,858 3,908 The Marshall Project
Nebraska 5,621 5,539 5,384 5,307 5,272 5,297 5,296 5,308 5,275 5,265 5,302 5,320 5,301 5,363 The Marshall Project
Nevada 12,379 12,403 12,384 12,152 11,937 11,231 11,696 11,696 11,354 11,273 11,222 11,134 11,007 10,926 10,841 10,777 10,640 10,505 10,429 10,260 10,183 10,059 10,015 The Marshall Project
& DOC weekly fact sheets
New Hampshire 2,433 2,359 2,256 2,228 2,209 2,203 2,184 2,155 2,136 2,107 2,071 2,053 2,030 2,016 The Marshall Project
New Jersey 18,439 17,958 16,613 15,866 15,480 15,380 12,800 11,463 11,434 11,128 10,962 10,875 10,722 The Marshall Project
New Mexico 6,573 6,588 6,328 6,175 6,159 6,040 6,012 5,847 5,817 5,772 5,710 5,731 5,708 The Marshall Project
New York 42,784 40,956 38,723 37,559 37,053 36,528 35,983 35,353 34,446 33,376 32,384 31,412 31,456 31,890 The Marshall Project
North Carolina 32,933 33,347 29,886 34,046 30,877 30,873 30,779 30,198 29,922 29,740 29,916 35,140 29,415 29,535 29,487 29,528 The Marshall Project
& DPS population reports
North Dakota 1,254 1,519 1,321 1,247 1,237 1,185 1,191 1,235 1,211 1,293 1,351 1,384 1,368 The Marshall Project
Ohio 48,697 48,695 48,765 48,927 47,620 46,212 45,876 44,972 44,536 44,598 44,441 44,027 43,665 43,495 43,246 43,005 43,014 43,046 42,963 43,080 43,134 43,056 43,193 43,405 The Marshall Project
& DRC weekly population count reports
Oklahoma 25,055 25,039 24,956 24,395 23,891 22,875 22,201 21,980 21,769 21,747 21,678 21,778 21,718 21,665 21,670 21,772 21,725 21,615 21,601 21,597 21,398 21,353 21,347 21,315 The Marshall Project
& DOC weekly counts
Oregon 14,483 14,497 14,459 14,407 14,351 14,055 13,721 13,507 13,484 13,306 13,149 12,989 12,742 12,593 12,404 12,322 12,190 12,098 12,068 12,067 12,045 12,097 12,044 12,020 The Marshall Project
& DOC population trend report
Pennsylvania 47,579 47,382 46,559 45,251 44,556 43,916 43,204 41,964 41,438 41,140 40,786 40,403 40,088 39,499 39,296 39,080 38,868 38,998 38,950 36,979 36,954 36,740 36,541 36,555 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly population reports
Rhode Island 2,601 2,664 2,674 2,275 2,198 2,180 2,200 2,211 2,184 2,233 2,179 2,076 2,118 2,150 2,120 2,078 2,125 2,118 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
South Carolina 18,106 18,074 18,028 18,229 17,687 17,455 17,224 16,361 16,121 16,230 15,806 16,013 15,676 15,720 15,586 15,548 15,213 15,420 15,458 15,171 15,275 15,408 15,151 15,182 DOC daily population counts
South Dakota 3,790 3,833 3,701 3,546 3,580 3,367 3,309 3,258 3,235 3,205 3,205 3,159 3,145 3,174 3,180 3,181 3,228 3,339 3,381 3,418 3,462 3,406 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
Tennessee 21,826 21,793 21,616 21,150 20,394 20,079 19,249 19,279 19,143 19,566 19,605 19,453 19,510 19,433 19,687 19,687 20,537 20,502 20,429 20,485 20,098 20,069 19,998 19,998 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
Texas 119,541 140,124 135,833 127,200 124,181 121,128 120,709 122,177 121,876 120,873 117,843 117,491 116,926 117,838 The Marshall Project
Utah 6,900 6,441 5,993 5,915 5,824 5,814 5,898 5,496 5,485 5,581 5,602 5,663 5,728 The Marshall Project
Vermont 1,656 1,406 1,395 1,417 1,390 1,417 1,413 1,369 1,380 1,292 1,281 1,272 1,238 1,228 1,395 1,285 1,291 1,300 1,322 1,308 1,319 1,281 The Marshall Project
& DOC daily population reports
Virginia 29,233 29,208 29,161 28,559 27,871 28,595 26,749 26,190 25,659 25,156 24,731 24,235 23,811 23,644 23,796 23,897 23,966 24,229 24,467 24,625 24,694 24,738 24,584 The Marshall Project
& DOC monthly reports
Washington 18,998 19,151 18,797 17,587 16,906 16,703 15,313 15,185 15,093 14,900 14,682 14,518 14,312 14,064 13,875 13,693 13,497 13,380 13,348 12,809 13,200 DOC monthly population reports
West Virginia 5,952 5,556 4,898 4,398 4,331 4,275 4,247 4,189 3,977 3,987 3,962 4,053 4,071 4,425 The Marshall Project
Wisconsin 23,392 23,362 23,591 22,507 22,304 21,576 21,252 21,372 21,136 21,495 20,494 20,401 20,033 19,513 19,539 19,301 19,271 19,380 19,548 19,796 20,070 20,142 20,188 20,088 The Marshall Project
& DOC weekly population counts
Wyoming 2,156 2,098 2,001 1,986 1,959 1,996 2,232 2,157 2,134 2,133 2,252 The Marshall Project

 
 
 

Appendix B: County jail populations during COVID-19

This table shows the jail populations for 415 county jails where data was available where data was available for March 10th, 2020 (the day before the pandemic was declared) and for 75% of the days between March 10th, 2020 and December, 2021. (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.)

*For jails without a population reported on the days we selected, we included the reported population from the closest available date.

State County Jail population on 3/10/2020 Jail population on 5/1/2020 Jail population on 8/22/2020 Jail popualtion on 2/3/2021 Jail population on 7/18/2021 Jail population on 12/31/2021 Percent change in jail population from 3/10/20 to 5/1/20 Percent change in jail population from 5/1/20 to 12/31/21 Percent change in jail population from 3/10/20 to 12/31/21
Ala. Autauga 172 155 156 184 151 115 -10% -26% -33%
Ala. Chilton 212 170 157 204 221 211 -20% 24% 0%
Ala. Clay 39 27 31 37 56 50 -31% 85% 28%
Ala. Cleburne 84 66 64 52 72 47 -21% -29% -44%
Ala. Coffee 127 63 88 111 151 111 -50% 76% -13%
Ala. Coosa 27 17 25 21 31 37 -37% 118% 37%
Ala. Dale 75 65 74 62 85 82 -13% 26% 9%
Ala. DeKalb 169 105 171 167 196 105 -38% 0% -38%
Ala. Houston 394 246 350 393 382 344 -38% 40% -13%
Ala. Jackson 177 122 202 209 191 136 -31% 11% -23%
Ala. Marion 131 89 98 155 166 121 -32% 36% -8%
Ala. Morgan 617 529 575 582 635 502 -14% -5% -19%
Ala. Pike 63 39 50 59 68 64 -38% 64% 2%
Ala. Randolph 64 55 51 69 66 50 -14% -9% -22%
Ala. St. Clair 222 195 185 218 249 201 -12% 3% -9%
Ala. Talladega 301 205 238 318 324 287 -32% 40% -5%
Ala. Washington 58 31 31 37 67 80 -47% 158% 38%
Ariz. Yavapai 537 398 498 479 543 496 -26% 25% -8%
Ariz. Yuma 432 370 389 456 461 422 -14% 14% -2%
Ark. Baxter 121 74 94 124 129 126 -39% 70% 4%
Ark. Crawford 217 121 176 242 232 277 -44% 129% 28%
Ark. Franklin 36 17 58 84 81 91 -53% 435% 153%
Ark. Howard 41 18 21 20 32 39 -56% 117% -5%
Ark. Johnson 64 28 44 83 79 90 -56% 221% 41%
Ark. Marion 42 23 24 61 77 57 -45% 148% 36%
Ark. Nevada 56 39 69 52 49 55 -30% 41% -2%
Ark. Poinsett 81 39 66 79 92 88 -52% 126% 9%
Ark. Pope 193 115 162 159 205 191 -40% 66% -1%
Ark. Saline 235 124 139 185 218 233 -47% 88% -1%
Ark. Stone 36 29 39 36 42 30 -19% 3% -17%
Ark. Union 199 127 135 170 184 156 -36% 23% -22%
Ark. Van Buren 78 33 31 40 80 70 -58% 112% -10%
Ark. Washington 679 343 415 548 630 728 -49% 112% 7%
Ark. White 287 105 110 217 258 269 -63% 156% -6%
Calif. El Dorado 390 306 331 339 313 306 -22% 0% -22%
Calif. Shasta 379 373 473 422 379 384* -2% 3% 1%
Calif. Siskiyou 94 55 82 70 79 72 -41% 31% -23%
Calif. Stanislaus 1,357 1,118 1,118 1,183 1,204 1,283 -18% 15% -5%
Calif. Tulare 1,571 1,095 1,265 1,355 1,444 1,319* -30% 20% -16%
Calif. Yuba 385 257 243 222 198 189 -33% -26% -51%
Colo. Arapahoe 1,134 709 675 820 768 738 -37% 4% -35%
Colo. Bent 55 29 42 77 53 60 -47% 107% 9%
Colo. Boulder 652 385 418 411 474 493 -41% 28% -24%
Colo. Douglas 341 209 212 269 291 342 -39% 64% 0%
Colo. Jefferson 1,265 691 748 795 1,039 1,052 -45% 52% -17%
Colo. Pueblo 646 396 427 416 484 509 -39% 29% -21%
Fla. Alachua 735 592 693 839 762 784 -19% 32% 7%
Fla. DeSoto 147 132 157 154 158 171 -10% 30% 16%
Fla. Flagler 205 165 163 191 193 201 -20% 22% -2%
Fla. Lake 21 17 22 12 27 34 -19% 100% 62%
Fla. Monroe 514 383 395 484 478 517 -25% 35% 1%
Fla. Nassau 243 168 197 236 214 270 -31% 61% 11%
Fla. Sarasota 872 788 820 891 938 964 -10% 22% 11%
Fla. St. Lucie 1,301 1,176 1,278 1,384 1,350 1,332 -10% 13% 2%
Fla. Walton 436 375 404 432 425 438 -14% 17% 0%
Ga. Bartow 673 506 594 610 588 501 -25% -1% -26%
Ga. Berrien 98 61 90 86 83 76 -38% 25% -22%
Ga. Brantley 122 99 135 109 109 97 -19% -2% -20%
Ga. Bulloch 343 251 251 346 367 348 -27% 39% 1%
Ga. Burke 106 87 91 109 103 121 -18% 39% 14%
Ga. Camden 112 103 130 140 136 125 -8% 21% 12%
Ga. Carroll 444 294 343 394 527 447 -34% 52% 1%
Ga. Columbia 276 197 177 218 279 269 -29% 37% -3%
Ga. Decatur 117 103 121 146 123 115 -12% 12% -2%
Ga. Dodge 123 118 121 125 134 140 -4% 19% 14%
Ga. Dougherty 586 378 477 514 542 599 -35% 58% 2%
Ga. Douglas 683 395 472 359 664 631 -42% 60% -8%
Ga. Effingham 237 184 139 158 224 191 -22% 4% -19%
Ga. Elbert 95 54 55 73 68 64 -43% 19% -33%
Ga. Fayette 205 120 141 198 266 230 -41% 92% 12%
Ga. Floyd 645 425 538 566 561 532 -34% 25% -18%
Ga. Gordon 290 192 230 270 227 235 -34% 22% -19%
Ga. Habersham 164 100 120 143 111 119 -39% 19% -27%
Ga. Haralson 185 124 131 136 158 116 -33% -6% -37%
Ga. Jackson 143 93 116 184 166 117 -35% 26% -18%
Ga. Lamar 58 45 41 52 64 50 -22% 11% -14%
Ga. Laurens 337 273 244 318 322 280 -19% 3% -17%
Ga. Liberty 209 156 194 187 202 159 -25% 2% -24%
Ga. Monroe 128 100 105 140 133 118 -22% 18% -8%
Ga. Oconee 28 16 22 18 32 60 -45% 287% 114%
Ga. Pickens 77 50 65 93 96 53 -34% 5% -31%
Ga. Polk 179 117 146 107 205 260 -35% 122% 45%
Ga. Rabun 108 42 66 78 95 74 -61% 76% -31%
Ga. Richmond 1,033 876 914 988 989 928 -15% 6% -10%
Ga. Spalding 388 245 284 343 423 405 -37% 65% 4%
Ga. Sumter 159 106 130 151 172 136 -33% 28% -14%
Ga. Tattnall 86 37 44 82 88 100 -57% 170% 16%
Ga. Tift 229 198 230 268 272 264 -14% 33% 15%
Ga. Turner 67 52 56 50 80 58 -22% 12% -13%
Ga. Union 52 27 37 46 55 44 -48% 63% -15%
Ga. Upson 104 53 74 104 131 147 -49% 177% 41%
Ga. Ware 421 319 361 450 443 387 -24% 21% -8%
Ga. Washington 79 74 81 91 93 102 -6% 38% 29%
Ga. Whitfield 486 333 389 442 435 366* -31% 10% -25%
Ga. Worth 69 54 92 75 122 85 -22% 57% 23%
Idaho Blaine 67 52 45 13 12 12 -22% -77% -82%
Idaho Bonneville 392 283 290 256 296 293 -28% 4% -25%
Idaho Canyon 446 343 410 350 365 391 -23% 14% -12%
Idaho Nez Perce 126 83 103 94 102 88 -34% 6% -30%
Idaho Power 15 9 11 5 9 8 -42% -9% -47%
Idaho Washington 40 28 35 37 35 23 -30% -18% -43%
Ill. Kendall 157 132 129 142 144 130 -16% -2% -17%
Ill. Macon 300 236 307 314 282 310 -21% 31% 3%
Ill. Randolph 25 12 13 22 23 19 -52% 60% -24%
Ill. Will 693 570 568 614 542 617* -18% 8% -11%
Ill. Woodford 52 34 65 72 65 66 -35% 94% 27%
Ind. Dearborn 233 186 283 279 284 235 -20% 26% 1%
Ind. Hamilton 298 171 250 283 287 292 -43% 71% -2%
Ind. Hendricks 266 172 229 206 257 230 -35% 34% -14%
Ind. Jackson 250 156 199 196 235 220 -38% 41% -12%
Ind. Starke 119 98 87 107 133 129 -17% 31% 8%
Iowa Buena Vista 23 6 7 21 18 14 -74% 133% -39%
Iowa Cerro Gordo 69 42 55 53 57 60 -39% 43% -13%
Iowa Clinton 59 26 49 54 56 77 -56% 196% 31%
Iowa Dallas 28 26 43 33 47 43 -7% 65% 54%
Iowa Dickinson 13 5 7 6 7 7 -62% 40% -46%
Iowa Hardin 85 38 75 62 44 34 -55% -11% -60%
Iowa Polk 896 481 691 728 819 701 -46% 46% -22%
Iowa Scott 449 241 272 215 224 219 -46% -9% -51%
Iowa Story 73 30 46 62 48 49 -59% 63% -33%
Kans. Brown 12 12 21 19 21 11 0% -8% -8%
Kans. Crawford 76 51 49 65 87 95 -33% 86% 25%
Kans. Dickinson 20 16 18 4 15 30 -20% 88% 50%
Kans. Doniphan 9 11 4 3 7 5 22% -55% -44%
Kans. Finney 95 56 90 57 99 84 -41% 50% -12%
Kans. Geary 101 64 88 89 93 87 -37% 36% -14%
Kans. Jackson 83 58 57 71 59 70 -30% 21% -16%
Kans. Shawnee 553 368 450 476 535 541 -33% 47% -2%
Kans. Sherman 18 14 18 15 20 9 -22% -36% -50%
Kans. Sumner 143 47 58 94 117 118 -67% 151% -17%
Kans. Thomas 14 11 18 14 12 19 -21% 73% 36%
Kans. Wabaunsee 9 7 5 9 9 8 -21% 12% -11%
Ky. Allen 80 29 54 58 87 81* -64% 181% 1%
Ky. Bell 117 62 111 131 130 136 -47% 121% 16%
Ky. Boone 457 348 450 438 480 375 -24% 8% -18%
Ky. Campbell 591 434 495 524 392 355 -27% -18% -40%
Ky. Christian 768 566 605 633 639 780 -26% 38% 2%
Ky. Clark 305 156 135 175 166 225 -49% 44% -26%
Ky. Daviess 740 485 552 622 586 598 -34% 23% -19%
Ky. Franklin 293 179 198 167 242 238 -39% 33% -19%
Ky. Graves 183 137 147 140 168 195* -25% 42% 7%
Ky. Jackson 128 82 79 80 91 103 -36% 25% -20%
Ky. Jessamine 143 77 83 106 154 117 -47% 53% -18%
Ky. Larue 143 95 85 138 131 152 -33% 59% 6%
Ky. Mason 188 104 113 98 170 163 -45% 57% -13%
Ky. Muhlenberg 278 200 230 234 244 276 -28% 38% -1%
Ky. Nelson 118 73 116 114 84 93 -38% 27% -21%
Ky. Pike 449 347 317 368 392 379 -23% 9% -16%
Ky. Pulaski 352 192 282 266 300 363 -45% 89% 3%
Ky. Rockcastle 104 52 60 53 74 83 -50% 60% -20%
Ky. Todd 135 114 91 127 143 146 -16% 28% 8%
Ky. Wayne 197 127 136 123 136 138 -36% 9% -30%
La. Allen 103 58 62 57 90 96 -44% 66% -7%
La. Assumption 101 84 85 126 135 200 -17% 138% 98%
La. Avoyelles 424 358 340 320 325 373 -16% 4% -12%
La. Beauregard 164 122 130 145 156 225 -26% 84% 37%
La. Bienville 42 29 30 22 21 23 -31% -21% -45%
La. Bogalusa City 19 12 11 13 8 20 -39% 71% 5%
La. Caldwell 611 560 508 572 586 585 -8% 4% -4%
La. Catahoula 72 28 49 51 71 75 -61% 168% 4%
La. Claiborne 579 502 488 430 465 561 -13% 12% -3%
La. East Feliciana 244 220 239 238 237 233 -10% 6% -5%
La. Evangeline 74 54 60 63 67 60 -27% 11% -19%
La. Franklin 815 705 721 818 809 773 -13% 10% -5%
La. Hammond City 14 7 9 10 2 11 -50% 57% -21%
La. Iberville 106 99 124 110 95 89 -7% -10% -16%
La. Jefferson Davis 159 100 79 101 113 102 -37% 2% -36%
La. Lafayette 997 657 500 552 612 636 -34% -3% -36%
La. Lafourche 458 324 320 358 510 586 -29% 81% 28%
La. LaSalle 73 55 66 76 114 111 -25% 102% 52%
La. Morehouse 464 440 491 432 393 383 -5% -13% -17%
La. Pointe Coupee 100 74 73 86 103 81 -26% 10% -19%
La. Rapides 877 743 806 869 904 896 -15% 21% 2%
La. Red River 64 59 49 56 57 46 -8% -22% -28%
La. Richland 751 654 645 696 696 666 -13% 2% -11%
La. Sabine 203 161 167 165 185 230 -21% 43% 13%
La. Shreveport 63 14 30 40 47 42 -78% 200% -33%
La. St. Charles 458 409 415 394 379 385 -11% -6% -16%
La. St. James 68 50 45 57 64 80 -26% 60% 18%
La. St. John 147 132 106 81 72 67 -10% -49% -54%
La. Sulphur 11 7 18 19 8 6 -36% -14% -45%
La. Tangipahoa 573 460 506 563 580 548 -20% 19% -4%
La. Terrebonne 647 514 533 539 573 548 -21% 7% -15%
La. Vermilion 147 124 122 162 142 152 -16% 23% 3%
La. Vernon 131 94 125 119 107 131 -28% 40% 0%
La. Ville Platte 15 19 15 11 9 16 27% -16% 7%
La. Washington 163 116 177 186 187 207 -29% 78% 27%
La. Webster 627 563 538 555 605 618 -10% 10% -1%
La. West Feliciana 25 12 35 123 116 113 -54% 878% 352%
Maine Cumberland 354 240 329 305 304 255 -32% 6% -28%
Mass. Worcester 771 524 498 494 545 572* -32% 9% -26%
Md. Allegany 191 125 153 134 184 169 -35% 35% -12%
Md. Prince Georges 885 699 865 975 1,004 1,016* -21% 45% 15%
Mich. Delta 125 81 103 90 105 122 -35% 51% -2%
Mich. Midland 108 70 78 64 67 87 -36% 25% -19%
Mich. Wayne 2,103 1,746 2,377 3,042 3,051 3,211 -17% 84% 53%
Minn. Beltrami 117 63 78 86 81 82 -46% 30% -30%
Minn. Blue Earth 114 70 89 74 71 59* -39% -16% -48%
Minn. Brown 18 8 17 17 19 20 -56% 150% 11%
Minn. Carlton 33 13 13 24 28 14 -61% 8% -58%
Minn. Chisago 61 22 30 31 35 34 -64% 55% -44%
Minn. Clay 121 65 66 99 110 117 -47% 81% -3%
Minn. Clearwater 17 6 12 7 23 20 -65% 233% 18%
Minn. Crow Wing 157 88 100 87 114 115 -44% 31% -27%
Minn. Fillmore 7 8 5 6 9 6 14% -25% -14%
Minn. Hubbard 64 27 44 49 40 63 -58% 133% -2%
Minn. Isanti 60 22 35 28 29 25 -63% 14% -58%
Minn. Kanabec 40 16 16 17 12 11 -60% -31% -73%
Minn. Kandiyohi 91 60 75 45 52 79 -34% 32% -13%
Minn. Koochiching 4 2 5 10 11 11 -50% 450% 175%
Minn. Le Sueur 24 16 12 13 7 19 -33% 19% -21%
Minn. McLeod 36 10 20 24 30 16 -72% 60% -56%
Minn. Mille Lacs 81 32 38 40 43 47 -60% 47% -42%
Minn. Morrison 33 19 30 25 37 31 -42% 63% -6%
Minn. Nicollet 26 11 14 15 13 12 -58% 9% -54%
Minn. Pipestone 14 2 9 8 12 2 -86% 3% -85%
Minn. Redwood 12 10 14 14 12 13 -17% 30% 8%
Minn. Renville 39 10 20 23 21 36 -74% 260% -8%
Minn. Roseau 21 9 15 7 9 10 -57% 11% -52%
Minn. Scott 141 53 61 103 126 112 -62% 111% -21%
Minn. Sherburne 307 237 255 242 274 300* -23% 27% -2%
Minn. Sibley 10 8 4 6 8 8 -20% 0% -20%
Minn. Swift 4 2 3 3 9 5 -50% 150% 25%
Minn. Wilkin 9 2 6 5 5 15 -78% 650% 67%
Minn. Winona 31 18 28 16 24 18 -42% 0% -42%
Minn. Wright 186 92 108 145 122 132 -51% 43% -29%
Minn. Yellow Medicine 15 10 13 11 17 19 -33% 90% 27%
Miss. Adams 77 69 58 71 90 86 -10% 25% 12%
Miss. Clay 68 59 53 67 83 84 -13% 43% 24%
Miss. Hancock 203 171 211 177 204 193 -16% 13% -5%
Miss. Jackson 340 292 352 368 379 423 -14% 45% 24%
Miss. Jasper 30 20 33 24 27 24 -33% 20% -20%
Miss. Lamar 107 74 92 80 115 86 -31% 16% -20%
Miss. Lee 194 182 205 232 33 33 -6% -82% -83%
Miss. Tunica 27 23 21 27 23 31 -15% 35% 15%
Mo. Barry 46 43 53 65 68 73 -7% 70% 59%
Mo. Bates 31 19 9 14 22 22 -39% 16% -29%
Mo. Benton 35 9 19 25 35 31 -74% 244% -11%
Mo. Boone 253 183 225 240 239 171 -28% -7% -32%
Mo. Buchanan 222 128 177 196 205 145 -42% 13% -35%
Mo. Cape Girardeau 148 149 174 196 222 240 1% 61% 62%
Mo. Christian 102 49 68 74 71 61 -52% 24% -40%
Mo. Clay 301 179 236 207 262 228 -41% 27% -24%
Mo. Jackson 851 643 753 786 777 718 -24% 12% -16%
Mo. Johnson 202 80 108 119 149 165 -60% 106% -18%
Mo. Joplin 54 30 34 36 36 49 -45% 64% -9%
Mo. Lewis 9 10 8 15 14 9 11% -10% 0%
Mo. Marion 81 41 64 82 82 72 -49% 76% -11%
Mo. McDonald 35 19 36 32 45 40 -46% 111% 14%
Mo. Saline 57 41 48 44 63 57 -29% 40% 0%
Mo. Stone 65 38 66 44 50 38 -42% 0% -42%
Mont. Big Horn 38 28 27 33 33 28 -26% 0% -26%
Mont. Lewis and Clark 106 86 103 113 102 102 -19% 19% -4%
Mont. Ravalli 41 26 44 49 50 41 -37% 58% 0%
Mont. Valley 42 20 22 17 19 17 -53% -14% -60%
N.C. Alamance 363 237 218 243 256 323 -35% 36% -11%
N.C. Burke 135 95 124 118 128 88 -30% -7% -35%
N.C. Cabarrus 327 202 188 206 238 254 -38% 26% -22%
N.C. Carteret 167 128 140 103 103 102 -23% -20% -39%
N.C. Catawba 302 183 249 215 299 261 -39% 43% -14%
N.C. Clay 316 228 197 169 261 317 -28% 39% 0%
N.C. Cleveland 325 168 203 232 282 286 -48% 70% -12%
N.C. Davidson 340 219 207 234 287 276 -36% 26% -19%
N.C. Gaston 585 393 505 496 567 501 -33% 27% -14%
N.C. Guilford 1,093 813 764 731 832 860 -26% 6% -21%
N.C. Lee 119 92 124 117 131 134 -23% 46% 13%
N.C. Lincoln 153 80 63 111 129 116 -48% 45% -24%
N.C. Moore 140 113 115 146 153 142 -19% 26% 1%
N.C. Pender 89 72 74 78 81 94 -19% 31% 6%
N.C. Randolph 260 182 263 171 244 227 -30% 25% -13%
N.C. Richmond 114 76 92 76 96 99 -33% 30% -13%
N.C. Rowan 345 216 243 243 333 279 -37% 29% -19%
N.C. Sampson 254 157 164 169 234 262 -38% 67% 3%
N.C. Stanly 157 121 145 139 160 150 -23% 24% -4%
N.C. Transylvania 77 39 43 31 51 45 -49% 15% -42%
N.C. Wake 1,266 1,113 1,074 1,201 1,229 1,289 -12% 16% 2%
N.C. Washington 457 332 303 291 341 323 -27% -3% -29%
N.D. Stutsman 47 42 50 44 47 39 -11% -7% -17%
N.D. Williams 91 88 105 105 83 57 -3% -35% -37%
N.J. Bergen 618 246 301 375 379 663 -60% 170% 7%
N.J. Cumberland 341 221 278 289 339 344 -35% 56% 1%
N.J. Ocean 329 191 292 280 290 319 -42% 67% -3%
N.J. Salem 303 216 292 340 357 352 -29% 63% 16%
N.M. Curry 184 121 174 174 164 149 -34% 23% -19%
N.M. Hobbs 12 7 13 24 8 13* -42% 86% 8%
N.M. Lea 238 121 145 159 180 186 -49% 54% -22%
N.M. San Juan 519 287 410 428 542 515 -45% 79% -1%
N.Y. Monroe 769 634 675 745 744 704 -18% 11% -8%
Nebr. Hall 276 178 227 204 226 251 -36% 41% -9%
Nebr. Lancaster 629 446 535 568 647 661* -29% 48% 5%
Nebr. Lincoln 117 101 115 120 150 115 -14% 14% -2%
Ohio Adams 43 14 34 18 37 32 -67% 129% -26%
Ohio Clermont 379 255 337 333 316 300 -33% 18% -21%
Ohio Clinton 81 52 68 51 71 46 -36% -12% -43%
Ohio Delaware 235 118 161 138 157 154 -50% 31% -34%
Ohio Franklin 2,009 1,350 1,591 1,663 1,683 1,601 -33% 19% -20%
Ohio Gallia 59 33 40 59 63 61 -44% 85% 3%
Ohio Guernsey 105 54 92 77 105 108 -49% 100% 3%
Ohio Hamilton 1,512 925 1,298 1,342 1,276 1,249 -39% 35% -17%
Ohio Morrow 104 79 73 66 110 107 -24% 35% 3%
Ohio Ottawa 92 48 59 51 74 61 -48% 27% -34%
Ohio Pickaway 121 61 106 90 82 99 -50% 62% -18%
Okla. Carter 36 8 40 18 32 6 -78% -25% -83%
Okla. Comanche 357 331 218 289 364 326 -7% -2% -9%
Okla. Garvin 67 35 68 66 81 59 -48% 69% -12%
Okla. Okmulgee 176 161 234 139 130 130 -9% -19% -26%
Okla. Pottawatomie 204 119 201 228 225 158 -42% 33% -23%
Ore. Baker 32 14 12 24 23 16 -56% 14% -50%
Ore. Clackamas 434 138 221 229 244 216 -68% 57% -50%
Ore. Clatsop 58 32 45 50 61 55 -45% 72% -5%
Ore. Douglas 206 72 78 147 175 133 -65% 85% -35%
Ore. Harney 8 2 4 7 8 7 -71% 204% -13%
Ore. Jackson 327 243 264 257 282 266* -26% 9% -19%
Ore. Josephine 192 94 167 97 181 147 -51% 56% -23%
Ore. Klamath 136 75 79 84 111 115 -45% 53% -15%
Ore. Lincoln 161 70 97 108 110 117 -57% 67% -27%
Ore. Linn 207 105 129 122 154 116 -49% 10% -44%
Ore. Marion 430 275 289 318 297 348 -36% 27% -19%
Ore. Marion Work Center 91 31 70 55 59* 59* -66% 90% -35%
Ore. Multnomah 1,122 718 625 812 802 796 -36% 11% -29%
Ore. Polk 110 24 72 67 98 80 -78% 233% -27%
Ore. Tillamook 65 38 37 26 36 17 -42% -55% -74%
Ore. Wasco 132 51 49 65 78 69 -61% 35% -48%
Ore. Washington 878 477 527 456 583 580 -46% 22% -34%
Ore. Yamhill 167 53 60 77 75 85 -68% 60% -49%
Pa. Clinton 46 46 191 175 185 138 0% 200% 200%
Pa. Cumberland 409 265 252 242 299 311 -35% 17% -24%
Pa. Dauphin 1,110 890 871 975 970 1,003 -20% 13% -10%
Pa. Lancaster 786 625 670 619 710 740 -20% 18% -6%
S.C. Aiken 460 380 418 430 302 289 -17% -24% -37%
S.C. Anderson City 97 83 88 93 94 80 -14% -4% -18%
S.C. Berkeley 439 327 326 396 414 434 -26% 33% -1%
S.C. Cherokee 358 265 297 316 344 330 -26% 25% -8%
S.C. Darlington 164 160 142 181 204 165 -2% 3% 1%
S.C. Kershaw 80 73 111 92 110 116 -9% 59% 45%
S.C. Laurens 226 165 177 175 229 185 -27% 12% -18%
S.C. Lexington 493 314 339 424 504 457 -36% 46% -7%
S.C. Marion 7 7 1 1 2 1 0% -86% -86%
S.C. Pickens 303 203 253 209 252 305 -33% 50% 1%
S.C. Sumter 310 266 259 295 334 325 -14% 22% 5%
S.D. Clay 12 7 13 19 15 18 -42% 157% 50%
Tenn. Blount 533 371 517 444 463 465 -30% 25% -13%
Tenn. Macon 300 236 307 314 283 308 -21% 31% 3%
Tenn. Polk 181 147 147 149 144 125 -19% -15% -31%
Tenn. Shelby 1,857 1,576 1,339 1,228 1,021 1,355 -15% -14% -27%
Tenn. Wayne 152 124 121 128 138 134 -18% 8% -12%
Tex. Archer 26 20 31 20 25 34 -23% 70% 31%
Tex. Bell 869 623 815 1,028 1,222 1,281 -28% 106% 47%
Tex. Brown 166 135 173 165 162 194* -19% 44% 17%
Tex. Calhoun 78 64 73 83 77 69 -18% 8% -12%
Tex. Coleman 33 32 40 35 37 38 -3% 19% 15%
Tex. Cooke 163 148 155 145 148 150 -9% 1% -8%
Tex. DeWitt 81 79 87 90 96 90 -2% 14% 11%
Tex. Ellis 375 295 328 394 464 435 -21% 47% 16%
Tex. Erath 80 45 73 55 95 79 -44% 76% -1%
Tex. Galveston 997 697 862 987 1,020 1,028 -30% 47% 3%
Tex. Hopkins 159 129 191 162 177 181 -19% 40% 14%
Tex. Jim Wells 62 60 44 46 54 69 -3% 15% 11%
Tex. Lavaca 27 17 15 11 23 26 -37% 53% -4%
Tex. Lubbock 1,255 1,154 1,295 1,227 1,340 1,315* -8% 14% 5%
Tex. Parmer 28 19 21 24 22 25 -32% 32% -11%
Tex. Polk 188 143 193 193 207 224 -24% 57% 19%
Tex. Randall 416 356 411 393 411 357 -14% 0% -14%
Tex. Rockwall 226 184 236 188 208 189 -19% 3% -16%
Tex. Terry 84 77 93 97 91 88 -8% 14% 5%
Tex. Titus 133 82 101 79 93 88 -38% 7% -34%
Tex. Tom Green 393 341 454 462 516 491 -13% 44% 25%
Tex. Wharton 145 83 117 102 123 122 -43% 47% -16%
Utah Salt Lake 2,144 1,356 1,215 1,489 1,725 1,724 -37% 27% -20%
Va. Blue Ridge Bedford 100 81 98 88 93 82 -19% 2% -18%
Va. Blue Ridge Halifax 180 184 164 183 40 149 2% -19% -17%
Va. Blue Ridge Lynchburg 470 397 415 491 516 299 -15% -25% -36%
Va. Chesapeake 1,031 965 912 1,001 1,026 904 -6% -6% -12%
Va. Danville 364 298 328 300 274 268 -18% -10% -26%
Va. Middle Peninsula 178 144 161 168 159 147 -19% 2% -17%
Va. Middle River 901 747 836 840 786 789 -17% 6% -12%
Va. Norfolk 935 727 717 963 912 801 -22% 10% -14%
Va. Pamunkey 391 265 406 444 400 362 -32% 37% -7%
Va. Riverside 1,376 1,154* 1,203* 1,262* 1,231* 1,069 -16% -7% -22%
Va. Roanoke 172 149 195 164 178 125 -13% -16% -27%
Va. Virginia Beach 1,509 1,207* 1,172* 1,299 1,269 1,120 -20% -7% -26%
Va. Virginia Peninsula 377 336 339 358 367 354 -11% 5% -6%
Va. Western Virginia 944 765 808 811 848 789 -19% 3% -16%
Wash. Chelan 197 141 160 135 125 101 -28% -28% -49%
Wash. Clallam Forks 17 11 11 12 17 9 -35% -18% -47%
Wash. Clark 663 364 429 432 353 350 -45% -4% -47%
Wash. Grays Harbor 180 109 139 136 118 132 -39% 21% -27%
Wash. Grays Harbor Aberdeen 22 9 9 10 11 10 -59% 11% -55%
Wash. Grays Harbor Hoquiam 31 15 29 23 17 18 -52% 20% -42%
Wash. Island 68 37 41 51 42 44 -46% 19% -35%
Wash. Jefferson 30 21 29 15 25 23 -30% 10% -23%
Wash. King Issaquah 57 19 30 39 28 38 -67% 100% -33%
Wash. Kitsap 385 167 237 274 258 285 -57% 71% -26%
Wash. Klickitat 40 19 40 40 40 38 -53% 100% -5%
Wash. Lewis 192 106 167 189 151 139 -45% 31% -28%
Wash. Okanogan 161 71 79 106 92 83 -56% 17% -48%
Wash. Skagit 280 131 137 176 170 174 -53% 33% -38%
Wash. Skamania 25 9 23 20 16 12 -64% 33% -52%
Wash. Snohomish 747 336 443 403 464 399 -55% 19% -47%
Wash. Snohomish Lynnwood 49 9 18 15 14 10 -82% 11% -80%
Wash. Snohomish Marysville 35 4 7 14 24 10 -89% 150% -71%
Wash. Thurston Olympia 23 13 13 7 12 18 -43% 38% -22%
Wash. Walla Walla 89 66 72 80 52 46 -26% -30% -48%
Wash. Whatcom 291 150 211 207 222 240 -48% 60% -18%
Wash. Whitman 31 19 24 26 23 27 -38% 41% -13%
Wash. Yakima 879 489 444 585 615 578 -44% 18% -34%
Wis. Brown 719 634 587 652 660 663 -12% 5% -8%
Wis. Eau Claire 275 168 168 186 213 173 -39% 3% -37%
Wis. La Crosse 152 64 81 98 115 85 -58% 33% -44%
Wis. Lincoln 105 61 74 80 66 53 -42% -13% -50%
Wis. Manitowoc 209 180 161 131 211 166 -14% -8% -21%
Wis. Sawyer 114 80 84 88 108 100 -29% 24% -12%
Wyo. Big Horn 70 68 60 59 60 53 -3% -22% -24%
Wyo. Lincoln 44 37 35 21 21 26 -16% -30% -41%
Wyo. Park 42 31 26 33 42 44 -26% 42% 5%

Newly released data doubles down on what we’ve reported before: Formerly incarcerated people face huge obstacles to finding stable employment, leading to detrimental society-wide effects. Considering the current labor market, there may be plenty of jobs available, but they don’t guarantee stability or economic mobility for this vulnerable population.

by Leah Wang and Wanda Bertram, February 8, 2022

How many formerly incarcerated people are jobless at the moment? A good guess would be 60%, to generalize from a new report released by the Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS). The report shows that of more than 50,000 people released from federal prisons in 2010, a staggering 33% found no employment at all over four years post-release, and at any given time, no more than 40% of the cohort was employed. People who did find jobs struggled, too: Formerly incarcerated people in the sample had an average of 3.4 jobs throughout the four-year study period, suggesting that they were landing jobs that didn’t offer security or upward mobility.

A chart showing formerly incarcerated people 65% of formerly federally incarcerated people were unemployed after 4 years. As the data show, not only is reentry difficult in the first months of release from prison, but the struggle to find a job actually grew over time for the study cohort of people leaving federal prison in 2010. We show these increasing jobless rates next to one of the most dire economic moments of recent years — when the US unemployment rate reached its highest point of around 15% in mid-2020.1

We warn readers that we can’t call the 60% jobless rate an “unemployment rate” — joblessness is different from unemployment, which refers to people actively looking for work. We calculated the first and only national unemployment rate for formerly incarcerated people in our 2018 report Out of Prison and Out of Work, and we can’t update that analysis, because we based it on data that the government only collected once.2 Nevertheless, the new BJS data suggest that employment rates among people who have been to prison aren’t improving.

Formerly incarcerated individuals tend to experience joblessness and poverty that started long before they were ever locked up. When they’re released from prison, the pressure is on to get a job: People on parole (or “supervised release”) often must maintain employment or face reincarceration,3 while struggling to access social services, and trying to make ends meet in a job market more hostile to them than ever before. This combination of pressures amounts to a perpetual punishment. And it’s not just formerly incarcerated individuals who are punished: Policies that weaken their ability to turn down jobs with low wages may depress wages for other workers in their industries, as we’ll explain in this briefing.

High jobless rates precede incarceration, too

A glimpse inside pre-incarceration employment.

According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics report, employment rates among the study’s cohort declined in the three years leading up to their admissions to federal prison. So while the overall US unemployment rate around this time peaked at 10% in 2009 (and was only outpaced recently in 2020), 60% or more of formerly incarcerated people found themselves jobless before their incarceration, with variation by sex, race and ethnicity.4 What explains such pervasive pre-incarceration joblessness?

Some of this decline in employment before incarceration could be explained by people being held in jail before they’re sentenced — the report does not say how many fall into this category. Still, these findings hint at two other, equally troubling connections between employment status and incarceration, though the new data don’t speak to them specifically: For one, loss of employment might be what is leading some to turn to criminal behavior, a reality that could be addressed through policy interventions. Further, there are unfortunate ramifications for people who were held in jail pretrial but not ultimately convicted or sentenced — they, too, may have lost their jobs. (And as we’ve stressed before, even a short stay in jail can be disruptive and even dangerous.)

As the new data show, one way or another, formerly incarcerated people have been routinely shut out of the workforce and denied access to opportunity. Criminal legal system involvement only makes their chances of finding a job worse, and these economic losses compound over time, making communities hit hardest by mass incarceration even worse off.

Harsh parole conditions, a lack of social welfare programs, and a tough job market are forcing formerly incarcerated people — already a low-income, majority-minority demographic — into the least desirable jobs. But not everybody is losing: Businesses have found a way to capitalize on the desperation of applicants with conviction histories and exploit the fact that these these individuals have less bargaining power to demand changes in conditions of employment, such as better wages benefits and protections. This results in lower overall wages and more harmful working conditions in certain industries.

 
 

Post-release, months of searching and moving between jobs is common

The overall employment rate over four years after the study population was released hovered between 34.9% and 37.9% — in other words, about two-thirds of the population were jobless at any given time.

For those who did find employment after release, their earnings were lower than the general population: In the first few months, formerly incarcerated people were earning just 53% of the median US worker’s wage. And after four years of seeking and obtaining irregular employment, the study population was making less than 84 cents for every dollar of the US median wage (which, in 2014, was about $28,851 annually).

Chart showing formerly incarcerated people earn nearly $100 less a week than the general population 4 years after their release.

Earnings were lowest for Black and Native American people released from federal prison;5 in fact, racial and ethnic disparities in earnings seemed to grow over time. These findings probably reflect an unfortunate “racialized re-entry” process for people leaving prison, where the stigma of incarceration itself and differences in social networks for job-seekers vary across racial and ethnic groups. Researchers of this concept noted that white people getting out of prison actually appeared more disadvantaged and less employable “on paper” due to higher rates of substance use and longer sentences, but still ended up with better employment and income than Black and Hispanic people leaving prison.

Employment may be one of the most important benchmarks of reentry, yet it took formerly incarcerated people an average of over six months to find their first job after release. As such, many did not maintain employment over the entire four-year study period, and the average person in the study had 3.4 jobs over that time. If that sounds erratic, it is: The average person is employed for 78% of the weeks between ages 18 and 54, while people in the study’s cohort were employed just 58% of the time post-release. When people are moving from job to job, families and the economy suffer, and people risk violating their post-release supervision and being returned to incarceration.

Lastly, though it’s not clear exactly why, people who served less than a year in federal prison actually had a harder time finding and maintaining employment post-release, and spent more time without a job than the other groups.6 Given this devastating impact on their long-term employment prospects, it’s evident that people who are given short sentences — and who pose no safety risk — should not be incarcerated to begin with.7

 
 

The struggle to find a good job

The fact that most people released from prison have spotty, sporadic employment may mean that the jobs they’re getting are difficult jobs to keep, even for an extremely motivated worker. These could be temporary jobs, jobs where workers aren’t protected from wrongful termination, or dangerous or low-wage jobs that are unsustainable.

According to the BJS report, the major industries employing formerly incarcerated people include waste management services, construction, and food service. A 2021 study released by the U.S. Census Bureau affirms this finding. The study analyzed thousands of people with felony convictions, tracking their employment and income in the years around the Great Recession (2006-2018), and found that rebounds in construction and various service industries after the recession were associated with a bump in employment and income levels for these individuals. However, the people in that study saw their employment levels plateau after a few years, even in areas where construction and manufacturing thrived.

It’s true that industries like manufacturing and construction tend to boost employment and reduce recidivism for those leaving prison. But while these jobs did, at one time, allow people to build wealth and support a family, they don’t as much anymore, meaning that they are likely not alleviating poverty among formerly incarcerated people. The fact that formerly incarcerated people are not obtaining steady, reliable work is likely related to the industries in which they’re most commonly employed.

 
 

When the workforce is under mass supervision, key industries lose employee bargaining power

Looking more closely at the “low-skill” jobs that formerly incarcerated people tend to get can help us understand how mass incarceration and supervision may be hurting whole sectors of workers. In construction and manufacturing, union membership has declined significantly over the last twenty years.8 During the same period — between 2000 and 2019 — the number of people on parole grew by more than 150,000, and the number of people with felony convictions swelled from 13.2 million to an estimated 24 million.

While it’s impossible to draw a causal relationship between these two trends — given the numerous factors at play — there is serious potential for exploitation of formerly incarcerated people. For example, The New York Times has reported that New Yorkers with conviction histories are shuttled into non-union construction jobs with low to no benefits. Formerly incarcerated employees placed at such companies have described being “taken aback” at the low wages, and many have had to work other jobs to supplement their pay from their day jobs in construction.

A rising number of people with felony convictions — which is the result of, among other things, overly punitive sentencing — may be depressing wages and hurting working conditions for all workers in certain industries. Formerly incarcerated workers are not to blame, especially as many have likely been working in these industries for the better part of their adult lives. Prison does nothing to improve their qualifications as workers; meanwhile, the struggle of reentry makes them more desperate for job offers, as the new data make abundantly clear.

 
 

Formerly incarcerated people need greater opportunity from today’s labor market

The new BJS data confirm that formerly incarcerated people still suffer from sky-high jobless rates (despite evidence that virtually all want to work), and that those who do find work are getting unstable jobs. Formerly incarcerated people are typically poor before they go to prison, and joblessness during reentry can push them into even deeper poverty and have a permanent impact on their wealth accumulation.

These devastating statistics have implications for workers without criminal records as well. When industries can use vulnerable workers to replace or supplement workers who demand decent wages and benefits, the price of labor declines. When burdensome supervision requirements, unnecessary occupational licensing restrictions, and a lack of social welfare programs combine to make formerly incarcerated people desperate for work, all workers suffer.

Indeed, during the labor shortages we’ve seen in 2021 and 2022, employers are turning to currently or formerly incarcerated people as a convenient solution. (And sadly, a rising awareness of formerly incarcerated people’s unjust barriers to employment has allowed some of these employers to frame their actions as enlightened.) These shifts may manifest in depressed wages, benefits, and worker protections sector-wide.

People leaving prison need expanded access to job opportunities so that successful reentry can begin immediately and provide stability, not uncertainty. Policy solutions like occupational licensing reform and automatic record expungement, as well as “banning the box” on all initial employment applications, are respectable first steps. Even better would be including those with conviction histories as a protected class9 in employment non-discrimination statutes. In-prison training programs for jobs in construction and similar industries may also boost employment and wages in some areas, according to some research, but it’s not a universal solution, nor does it solve underlying problems of low educational attainment and economic immobility.

It’s critical that lawmakers support workers with and without criminal records who are working together to end the exploitative practices that hurt them all. Without leveling the playing field for formerly incarcerated people, not only will their jobless rates remain high, but self-serving employers will continue to benefit from a disposable labor pool, with detrimental impacts on everyone.

 
 

Footnotes

  1. For a more appropriate comparison, it would be reasonable to use the Bureau of Labor Statistics’ U-6 rating, which is a more inclusive measure of unemployment that includes people marginally attached to the labor force and those who want full-time work but have been forced to accept part-time work. Of available data going back to 1994, the average annual U-6 rating peaked in 2010 at 16.7%, and in 2020 the U-6 rating averaged 13.6%. More on alternative measures of unemployment can be found here.  ↩

  2. For more on how the jobless and unemployment rates compare, see the appendix of our 2018 report.  ↩

  3. Requirements that people on community supervision maintain or look for a job exist in several jurisdictions, including the federal supervised release system, Washington D.C., Louisiana (see footnote 4 of the Columbia University Justice Lab’s report Less Is More in New York), and Massachusetts.  ↩

  4. Pre-incarceration joblessness was consistently highest for Black, Native American and people of “Other” race or ethnicity. In the quarter prior to admission to prison, Black people were 87% jobless. Women had slightly higher levels of employment than men both before and after serving time in federal prison; however, they consistently earned lower wages.  ↩

  5. The methodology of the BJS report may have led to skewed findings about employment outcomes for Hispanic people: Researchers used Social Security information to link prison records to employment records. While all other race and ethnicity groups had 91% or more released people’s records successfully linked, only 45% of Hispanic people in the release cohort had their prison records linked to employment data for analysis. Therefore, the study doesn’t describe the typical employment experience of numerous Hispanic people who make up a large swath of US residents that never receive Social Security benefits.  ↩

  6. For those who served 1 year or less in federal prison prior to their 2010 release, it took the longest time on average to secure their first job (2.9 quarters, or almost 9 months). Additionally, their first job had the shortest average duration (18 months) and their overall employment rate over four years post-release was the lowest compared to those who served longer sentences. See Table 4 of the BJS report.  ↩

  7. Another recent paper provides evidence that diverting people from incarceration may mitigate some of the harsh impacts on employment discussed in this briefing: Researchers compared the employment outcomes of people released from prison compared to people with felony convictions only (some of whom went on to spend time in prison). Those in the prison-release cohort had lower employment and income levels over several years compared to those with felony convictions.  ↩

  8. In 2000, 18.3% of people employed in the construction industry and 14.8% of people employed in the manufacturing industry were members of a union, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics’s Union Members In 2000 report. In 2019, by contrast, 12.8% of people employed in construction and 9% of people employed in manufacturing were members of a union, according to Union Members — 2019. (Bureau of Labor Statistics “Union Members” reports from the intervening years show a slow downward trend in union membership in these industries.) These represent slightly steeper declines than the overall U.S. workforce saw during that same period (13.5% in 2000 versus 10.3% in 2019). However, it’s worth noting food service doesn’t show the same decline; union membership rates in food service have hovered around 1% for the last couple decades.  ↩

  9. A couple of relevant state-level victories were summarized in a new report from the Collateral Consequences Resource Center: Illinois, Louisiana, New Mexico and Maine were among states that passed legislation in 2021 making it much harder for employers to discriminate against those with criminal records.  ↩

See all footnotes.


Forty states and the federal prison system continue to charge incarcerated people unaffordable copays for medical care.

by Tiana Herring, February 1, 2022

In 2017, our analysis of medical copays in prisons across the country brought to light the common but utterly backwards practice of charging incarcerated people unaffordable fees for their health care. At that time, only eight states did not charge medical copays: Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, Oregon, Vermont, and Wyoming. While several other states have since added themselves to this list, the vast majority have still not eliminated medical copays. With a new legislative session starting in many states, we reviewed each state’s policy — and any temporary changes they’ve made in response to the COVID-19 crisis — to identify places where repealing these fees should be on the agenda. (Looking for your state’s policies? See the appendix tables.)

 
 

40 states & the federal prison system still need to eliminate medical copays

Since 2017, two additional prison systems — California and Illinois — have eliminated medical copays, and, for the last two years, Virginia has suspended medical copays as part of a pilot program. Texas reduced its exorbitant $100 yearly health care fee to a less atrocious, but still out-of-reach, $13.55 per-visit fee. Idaho also reduced its medical copays in prison from $5 to $3 in 2018.

Even a $3 copay, though, is unaffordable for most incarcerated people, given the obscenely low wages that incarcerated people earn. For people earning 14 to 63 cents an hour in prison (and many earning nothing at all for their work), a typical $2-5 copay is the equivalent of charging a free-world worker $200 or $500 for a medical visit.

Unaffordable copays in prisons and jails have two inevitable and dangerous consequences. First, when sick people avoid the doctor, disease is more likely to spread to others in the facility and into the community, when people are released before being treated or when diseases are carried by correctional staff back to their homes. Second, illnesses are likely to worsen as long as people avoid the doctor, which means more aggressive (and expensive) treatment when they can no longer go without it. Medical copays encourage a dangerous waiting game for incarcerated people, correctional agencies, and the public, with little payoff in terms of offsetting medical costs and reducing “unnecessary” office visits. In fact, when evaluating the costs versus benefits of charging copays, the Oregon Department of Corrections concluded, “copay systems do not seem to lower overall health care costs,” and “triage on a case-by-case basis is more cost effective than implementing system-wide copayment plans.”

 
 

Policy changes made during the pandemic are already being rolled back

In the face of COVID-19, we’ve found that many prison systems relaxed their medical copay policies to avoid disincentivizing people in prison from seeking necessary medical care. Before these changes, medical copays in prisons typically ranged from $2 to $5. Twenty-eight states modified their policies during the first few months of the pandemic, and, ultimately, all but one state — Nevada — temporarily changed their policies. Of the states that do charge medical copays as a matter of policy, only 10 completely suspended these fees at some point in the pandemic. The federal Bureau of Prisons, on the other hand, did not modify their copay policy until March 2021, and only suspended copays for COVID-19 related care for three months before the waiver expired.1

Most states that have modified their copay policies during the pandemic only suspended copays for respiratory, flu-related, or COVID-19 symptoms. But these limitations ignore the facts that not all COVID-19 symptoms fall within these vague categories, and many people don’t display symptoms at all.

A map showing that only 10 states have ended copays for incarcerated people Our survey of all 50 state prison systems found that a handful of states have already returned to their pre-COVID-19 medical copay policies, disincentivizing people from seeking early and frequent medical care behind bars, despite the continued pandemic.

As states stop publishing data about COVID-19 in prisons and start rolling back basic policies that do the bare minimum to protect incarcerated people, it’s important to remember that the pandemic is still ongoing and cases, hospitalizations, and deaths continue to rise. Five states — Alabama, Arkansas,2 Idaho,3 Minnesota, and Texas — rolled back their COVID-19 copay modifications at some point during the pandemic. Alabama went from suspending all copays to reinstating them for all cases in December 2020. Similarly, Minnesota and Texas had modified copays to accommodate people with COVID-19 symptoms, but reinstated all copays in December 2020 and September 2021, respectively. We confirmed that 22 states4 continue to operate with their COVID-19 copay policy changes in place, but in 15 states5 we were unable to confirm whether these modified policies remain in place.

Copays never make sense behind bars, particularly during a highly contagious viral pandemic. They are cruel, counterintuitive, and disincentivize people from seeking medical care when they need it. As our nation enters the third year of dealing with a virus that has ravaged prisons and jails — and increasingly looks endemic — it is urgent that lawmakers take action to permanently eliminate copays for incarcerated people.

 
 

Appendices

Appendix Table 1. COVID-19 copay policy changes

This table details medical copay policy changes during the COVID-19 pandemic since March 2020.
Prison system Original, pre‑pandemic medical co‑pay policy Initial COVID‑19 co‑pay response and date Subsequent COVID‑19 response and date Sources
Alabama Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 18, 2020. Reinstated all medical co-pays in December 2020. Initial response: ADOC Press Release. Subsequent response: States of Emergency report.
Alaska Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 13, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: Anchorage Daily News article. Subsequent response: Email exchange with Alaska DOC in December 2021.
Arizona Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: AP News article.
Arkansas Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 23, 2020. Reinstated co-pays for non-COVID-19 related symptoms on May 1, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial and subsequent responses: KUAR news article
California Did not charge medical co-pays.
Colorado Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 23, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with CDOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
Connecticut Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 11, 2020. Co-pay suspensions are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: Hartford Courant news article. Subsequent response: Email exchange with CT DOC in December 2021.
Delaware Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms. Co-pay modifications will remain in place unless Delaware changes their permanent co-pay policy (Policy Number E-01). Email exchange with Delaware in April 2020.
Federal Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respirator, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 10, 2021. Reinstated all medical co-pays on June 20, 2021. Since then, the Bureau of Prisons has shifted COVID-19 evaluations and monitoring to become part of overall preventative health screening and monitoring, which are non-chargeable according to Program Statement 6031.02 (“Inmate Copayment Program”). Email exchange with the Bureau of Prisons in January 2022.
Florida Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 13, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with FDC in March 2020 and December 2021.
Georgia Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 13, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with GDC in March 2020.
Hawaii Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on May 20, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: Honolulu Civil Beat article. Subsequent responses: Email exchange with Hawaii DPS in December 2021.
Idaho Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 13, 2020. Reinstated co-pays for non-COVID-19 related symptoms by December 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: IDOC Press Release. Subsequent responses: Email exchanges with IDOC in December 2020 and December 2021.
Illinois Did not charge medical co-pays.
Indiana Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms in March 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: IDOC COVID-19 Preparedness and Response Plan. Subsequent response: Email exchange with IN DOC in December 2021.
Iowa Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with IA DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
Kansas Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 26, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: KDOC Press Release.
Kentucky Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 23, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Phone call with KY DOC in March 2020
Louisiana Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 16, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with LA DPS&C in March 2020.
Maine Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 13, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with ME DOC in March 2020.
Maryland Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 31, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with MD DOC in March 2020.
Massachusetts Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on April 21, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: MA DOC COVID-19 Q&A. Subsequent response: Email exchange with MA DOC in December 2021.
Michigan Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with MI DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
Minnesota Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Reinstated all medical co-pays in December 2020. Email exchanges with MN DOC in March 2020 and December 2020.
Mississippi Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 19, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with MS DOC in March 2020.
Missouri Did not charge medical co-pays.
Montana Did not charge medical co-pays.
Nebraska Did not charge medical co-pays.
Nevada Charged medical co-pays. No change to co-pay policy.
New Hampshire Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 13, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with NH DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
New Jersey Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 26, 2020. Suspended all medical co-pays by December 2020. Co-pay suspensions are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with NJ DOC in March 2020, December 2020, and December 2021.
New Mexico Did not charge medical co-pays.
New York Did not charge medical co-pays.
North Carolina Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with NC DPS in March 2020 and December 2021.
North Dakota Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with ND DOCR in March 2020 and December 2021.
Ohio Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 12, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: ODRC tweet
Oklahoma Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on April 7, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with OK DOC in April 2020.
Oregon Did not charge medical co-pays.
Pennsylvania Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 12, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Initial response: WITF news article. Subsequent response: Email exchange with PA DOC in December 2021.
Rhode Island Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 27, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with RI DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
South Carolina Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with SC DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
South Dakota Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 19, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: SD DOC Tweet.
Tennessee Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 16, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: TDOC COVID-19 FAQ.
Texas Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 20, 2020. Reinstated all medical co-pays in September 2021. Initial response: Press Release from Governor Abbott. Subsequent response: Email exchange with TDCJ in December 2021.
Utah Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 31, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with UT DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
Vermont Did not charge medical co-pays.
Virginia Did not charge medical co-pays.6
Washington Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Unclear if modifications remain in effect. Initial response: Email exchange with WA DOC in March 2020.
West Virginia Charged medical co-pays. Suspended all medical co-pays on March 17, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with WV DCR in March 2020 and December 2021.
Wisconsin Charged medical co-pays. Stopped charging for flu, respiratory, or COVID-19 symptoms on March 16, 2020. Co-pay modifications are still in place as of December 2021. Email exchanges with WI DOC in March 2020 and December 2021.
Wyoming Did not charge medical co-pays.

See all COVID-19 copay policy changes

 
 

Appendix Table 2. State and federal prison copay policies and sourcing information

This table details medical copay policies for visits with health care providers charged to incarcerated people in state and federal prisons, along with sourcing information available as of January 3, 2022.

The original version of this table was published as an appendix to the April 19, 2017 blog post “The steep cost of medical copays in prison puts health at risk.”

We welcome additional or updated information.

Prison system Medical co-pay for visits What if the patient can’t afford to pay? Sources
Alabama $4 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 5-6 of policy PDF. Patients who maintain a balance of less than $20 in their personal accounts for the prior 90 days are considered indigent and are not assessed a co-pay. For those who are not indigent but have inadequate funds, the unpaid balance remains payable until sufficient funds are received. DOC Admin. Reg. 703
Alaska $5 co-pay. Treatment for chronic conditions is charged the $5 co-pay once per year. For exceptions, see page 4 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds, a debt is established. DOC Policy 807.07
Arizona Up to $5 health care fee. For exceptions, see pages 21-22 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds to pay the health care fee, a “hold” is placed on his or her account for future debiting when funds become available. DOC Dept. Order 1101 and ADCRR’s Glossary of Terms
Arkansas Up to $5 co-pay. The amount of the assessment may not reduce the inmate’s account below $5. Any unpaid balance would remain as a lien on the account until it could be satisfied without reducing the balance below $5 DOC Policy AR 0893
California No co-pay or fee. Cal. Penal Code S 5007.5 (2020)
Colorado $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 3-4 of PDF. DOC Regulation 700-30
Connecticut $3 fee. For exceptions, see page 2 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds at the time of service, an obligation is established on his or her trust account. Subsequent funds are credited against the obligation until it is paid. DOC Administrative Directive 3.12
Delaware $4 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 2 of PDF. DOC Policy E-01.1
Federal $2 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 3 of PDF. A patient is considered indigent if he or she has not had a trust fund account balance of $6 for the past 30 days. The fee is not charged to indigent patients. For a patient who is not indigent but does not have sufficient funds, a debt is established and incoming funds are applied against this debt until it is paid. BOP Program Statement 6031.02
Florida $5 co-pay. For exceptions, see statute. If a patient does not have sufficient funds, 50% of each deposit into his or her account is withheld until the total amount owed has been paid. 2016 Fla. Stat. S 945.6037
Georgia $5 fee. For exceptions, see page 16 of PDF. If a patient is unable to pay, the charge is recorded as an outstanding debt against his or her account. GDC Orientation Handbook for Offenders
Hawaii $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 3 of PDF. If a patient has less than $10 in his or her account at the time the charge is posted, he or she is considered indigent and a debt is created until the account has over $10 and enough to pay the co-pay. If there is less than $10 but more than the total co-pay owed, the difference will be deducted from the account. DPS Corrections Administration Policy COR.10.1A.13
Idaho $2 co-pay ($10 for people with work release jobs). For exceptions, see page 4 of PDF. DOC Procedure Control Number 411.06.03.001
Illinois No co-pays. 730 Ill. Comp. Stat. 5/3-6-2(f) (2021)
Indiana $5 copay. For exceptions, see pages 3-4 of PDF. Co-pays are paid from Inmate Trust Funds before commissary orders are processed. If there are insufficient funds to cover health co-pays, a hold is placed on the account for 30 days. A patient is not authorized to make any purchases or take money from his or her Inmate Trust Fund until outstanding health care co-pays are paid. If a patient does not receive sufficient funds to cover the co-pay within 30 days, any available funds up to the co-pay amount will be deducted and the hold will be removed at the end of the 30 day period. 210 Ind. Admin. Code Article 7
Iowa $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 4 of PDF. If a patient’s account balance is not sufficient to cover the charges, his or her balance will be reduced to $0 and a lien will be placed against the account. The balance owed will be deducted from any deposit received. The debt will remain outstanding until paid, for as long as the sentence is in effect. DOC Policy HSP-505
Kansas $2 fee. For exceptions, see section 4.c.1 thru 4.c.12. Kan. Admin. Regs. S 44-5-115c (2016)
Kentucky $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 5 of PDF. A patient who maintains a balance in his or her inmate account of $5 or less for 30 days prior to requesting indigency status is considered indigent. Indigent patients are not charged co-pays. DOC Policy 13.2. For definition of indigency, see DOC Policy 15.7.
Louisiana $3 co-pay. I could not find a state-wide policy, but according to an In These Times article, when a patient can’t afford a co-pay, a debt is created that can follow him or her even after release from prison. DOC guide, “Time in Prison: The Adult Institutions.” See page 5 of PDF. See also: Katie Rose Quandt and James Ridgeway, “At Angola Prison, Getting Sick Can Be a Death Sentence,” In These Times, December 20, 2016.
Maine $5 fee. For exceptions, see statute paragraph A. A patient is not charged if they have less than $15 in a facility account and have not received additional money from any source for 6 months following the medical service. Maine Rev. Stat. tit. 34-A S 3031 (2)
Maryland $2 copay. According to the Department policy, Maryland state law permits correctional agencies to assess a maximum of $4 as a medical co-pay, but the Department currently assesses $2. For exceptions, see pages 2-3 of PDF. DPSCS Executive Directive OPS.130.0001
Massachusetts $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 6-7 of PDF. Co-pays are deducted from available earned funds or from savings funds if no earned funds are available. If a patient has no available earned funds, he or she is not charged a co-pay unless he or she voluntarily agrees to pay the co-pay from unearned funds by using a charge slip. 103 DOC 763
Michigan $5 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 1-2 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds to pay the fee, the fee is considered an institutional debt and at that time, all available funds will be collected to go toward payment of the debt. When future funds are received in the account, 50% will be put toward the debt until the debt is paid. DOC Policy Directive 03.04.101. For information on institutional debt, see DOC Policy Directive 04.02.105. See page 6 of PDF
Minnesota $5 co-pay. For exceptions, see Directive Procedure B. The co-pay charge is logged into the patient’s account with a negative balance until funds become available to cover partial or total cost of care. DOC Directive 500.100
Mississippi $6 co-pay. For exceptions, see “Do I (inmate) have to pay a co-pay every time?” on Medical Concerns FAQ page. If a patient does not have sufficient funds, the balance will be paid upon receipt of future funds into his or her account. DOC Medical Concerns FAQ web page
Missouri No co-pay or fee. DOC Guide for Family and Friends. See pages 20 and 38.
Montana No co-pay or fee. By statute, incarcerated people are obligated to pay for “reasonable costs” of medical care. However, a 2016 Legislative Audit found that the department is not yet charging for medical treatment. DOC 2019 Budget Analysis Summary. See page 4 of PDF (D-137 of document). For the relevant statute, see Mont. Code Ann. S 53-1-107(6) (2021).
Nebraska No co-pay or fee. NCS Health Services Inmate Health Plan (2018).
Nevada $8 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 12 of Initial Orientation Handout PDF and page 73 of Audit Report PDF. I could not find a policy addressing insufficient funds or indigency, but the Audit Report found that “Inmates were not charged for visits due to insufficient funds to make co-payments in 40 (18%) of the visits reviewed.” DOC Initial Orientation Handout (2010). See page 12 of PDF. See also: DOC Inmate Programs, Grievances, and Access to Health Care Audit Report (2008). See page 72 of PDF.
New Hampshire $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 2-3 of PDF. A patient with a negative account balance will be charged. When he or she receive funds, the negative balance will be paid off before any other charges can be incurred. DOC Policy and Procedure Directive 6.16, obtained via email from NH DOC.
New Jersey $5 co-pay. For exceptions, see Admin. Code and page 55 of Inmate Handbook. N.J. Admin. Code S 10A:16-1.5 (2017). Free access available via Lexis Nexis. See also: New Jersey Inmate Handbook. See page 55 of PDF.
New Mexico No co-pay or fee. Email exchange with NMDC on December 28, 2021.
New York No co-pay or fee. New York State Assembly staff.
North Carolina $5 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 4 of PDF. Co-pays are deducted from trust fund accounts, regardless of indigent status. However, co-pay fees deducted will not take the account balance below $2. If there is not enough money to pay the co-pay, the charge remains as a lien on the account. When deposits are made, up to 50% of a deposit will be taken to pay the co-pay balance. Co-pay charges remain liens against the account until release or parole. DOC Policy AD III-1
North Dakota $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see page 68 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds at the time of service, the balance will be deducted from future pay and money received from outside sources. Facility Handbook (2021). See page 68 for co-pay amount and page 59 for debt policy.
Ohio $2 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 2-3 of PDF. A patient is considered indigent if he or she has earned or received less than $12 and his or her balance has not exceeded $12 at any time in the 30 days preceding the co-pay request. Indigent patients are not charged co-pays. DRC Policy 68-MED-15
Oklahoma $4 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 5-6 of PDF. DOC Operating Procedure OP-140117. See page 5 of PDF.
Oregon No co-pay or fee. According to the DOC Issue Brief, Or. Admin. Rule 291-124-0085 allows, but does not mandate, the DOC to collect a co-pay. The DOC currently charges co-pays only for eyeglass exam visits, elective procedures, items that become the patient’s property (e.g., glasses, dentures, prosthetics), and non-essential self-care items (e.g. medicated shampoos and supplements). See Or. Admin. Rule 291-124-0085 for those charges. Or. Admin. R. 291-124 “Health Services (Inmate)”. For the reasoning behind the Department’s decision not to charge co-pays for most services, see DOC Issue Brief “Inmate Copays for Healthcare” (2012).
Pennsylvania $5 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 7-9 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds to pay the co-pay fee, his or her account will be debited and the fee recouped from future deposits by collecting up to 25% of the account balance, unless the balance is less than $10. DOC Policy DC-ADM-820. For information about the collection of co-pay debts, see DOC Policy DC-ADM 005. See page 17 of PDF.
Rhode Island $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 2-3 of PDF. If a patient does not have sufficient funds to pay the co-pay amount, all but $10 will be withdrawn from his or her account, and the balance owed will be charged as a debt to the account. Half of all subsequent deposits are used to pay the debt until the it is paid in full. Any remaining debt at the time of release is considered a legal debt and is subject to civil remedy by the state. If an individual returns to DOC custody before repayment of the debt, his or her account will reflect the unpaid debt from prior incarceration(s.) DOC Policy 2.28-3 DOC
South Carolina $5 co-pay ($12 for people with work release jobs). For exceptions, see pages 2-3 of PDF. Co-pays are charged to patients regardless of indigent status. DOC Policy HS-18.17. See page 3 of PDF.
South Dakota “$2 co-pay ($10 to see a physician for people with work release jobs). For exceptions, see page 3 of PDF. DOC Policy 1.4.E.10
Tennessee $3 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 2-4 of PDF. DOC Policy 113.15
Texas $13.55 co-pay. Tex. Gov’t. Code Ann. S 501.063
Utah $5 co-pay. DOC web page “Inmate Health Care”
Vermont No co-pay or fee. Vermont Prisoners’ Rights Office
Virginia On January 1, 2020 Virginia DOC stopped charging co-pays as part of a pilot program. As of January 2022, this change is not permanent. Any medical co-pay debts incurred before this change are not affected. DOC Operating Procedure 720.4
Washington $4 co-pay. For exceptions, see pages 2-3 of PDF. Co-pays are collected from the patient’s trust accounts, but will not draw the balance below $10. The remaining balance will be collected from subsequent deposits. DOC Policy 600.025. For information on indigency, see Policy 200.000 Attachment 3 and Wash. Rev. Code S 72.09.015
West Virginia $5 co-pay for doctor’s visit, $3 co-pay for nurse visit. W. Va. Code caps co-pays at $5 for any billable service and explains exceptions. Lakin Correctional Center Inmate Handbook (2014). See page 45 of PDF. The Handbook references a state-wide DOC Policy Directive 424.01 “Inmate Medical Co-Payments,” but that policy is not available on the DOC website. See also: W. Va. Code S 25-1-8.
Wisconsin $7.50 co-pay. For exceptions, see Wis. Admin. Code. If a patient does not have sufficient funds to pay the co-pay amount, a debt will be applied to his or her general or trust account. Wis. Admin. Code DOC S 316.04
Wyoming No co-pay or fee. DOC staff

See all state and federal copay policies

 
 

Footnotes

  1. According to the public information office of the federal Bureau of Prisons, evaluations and monitoring for COVID-19 are not subject to copays: “Within the early days of COVID-19, an approved copay waiver was implemented on March 10, 2021, and expired on June 20, 2021. It was implemented to encourage inmates to seek a medical examination, if they developed COVID-19 symptoms, without the concern of an inmate copay charge. As COVID-19 has continued, the Bureau of Prisons shifted COVID-19 evaluations and monitoring to become part of an overall preventative health screening and monitoring. Preventative health and emergency assessments are non-chargeable examinations consistent with Program Statement 6031.02; “Inmate Copayment Program” found here https://www.bop.gov/policy/progstat/6031_002.pdf. If an inmate feels they have been inappropriately charged, they may appeal the charge at the local level through the Administrative Remedy Process.”  ↩

  2. Arkansas originally suspended all copays, but reinstated medical copays for non-COVID-19 related medical care in May 2020.  ↩

  3. Idaho originally suspended all copays, but reinstated medical copays for non-COVID-19 related medical care in December 2020.  ↩

  4. The following states have confirmed that their modifications remain in place: Alaska, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Hawaii, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Massachusetts, Michigan, New Hampshire, New Jersey, North Carolina, North Dakota, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Texas, Utah, West Virginia, and Wisconsin.  ↩

  5. We have not received responses in January 2022 from the departments of corrections in fifteen states: Arizona, Arkansas, Georgia, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Mississippi, Nevada, Ohio, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Tennessee, and Washington.  ↩

  6. On January 1, 2020 Virginia DOC stopped charging co-pays as part of a pilot program. As of January 2022, this change is not permanent.  ↩


Newly released data from 2020 show the impact of early-pandemic correctional policy choices and what kind of change is possible under pressure. But the data also show how inadequate, uneven, and unsustained policy changes have been: most have already been reversed.

by Wendy Sawyer, January 11, 2022

The Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS) has released a lot of new data over the past few weeks that help us finally see — both nationally and state-by-state — how policy choices made in the first year of the pandemic impacted correctional populations. Unsurprisingly, the numbers document the tragedy of thousands of lives lost behind bars, and evidence of some of the policy decisions that contributed to the death toll. Drilling down, we also see a (very) few reasons to be hopeful and, for those of us paying close attention, a few notable improvements in what the BJS is able to collect and how they report it. Above all, we see how quickly things can change — for better or for worse — when under pressure, and discuss some of the issues and policy choices these data tell us to watch out for.

A note about the timing of the data

Before we discuss the new data, a brief note about the timing of these data releases: As we approach the third year of the pandemic, it’s frustrating to only now get the official government data from year one — at this point, it’s more useful as documentation of past decisions than as an indicator of current conditions. The lags in BJS data are an ongoing problem made more urgent by the pandemic, and we and other researchers have had to find alternative ways to track what’s been happening to correctional populations, who are at heightened risk of infection and death. Some of the findings we discuss in this briefing will not be not “news” to many of our readers, because we and others were able to find other data sources faster than the BJS could collect, analyze, and publish its data. We include some of our findings from those other sources to lend more context to the numbers reported by BJS, which only cover up to the end of 2020.

Nevertheless, the BJS data updates are a welcome addition to the data we and others have been collecting for the past two years: The agency standardizes and aggregates data from the many disparate and decentralized “justice systems” across 50 states, the federal government, and thousands of counties and cities, year after year, which allows us to identify clear trends over time and key differences across geographies.

Key findings from the BJS reports Prisoners in 2020, Jail Inmates in 2020, and Probation and Parole in the United States, 2020:

  • Prison, jail, and probation populations dropped dramatically from 2019-2020,1 but these drops were due to mainly to emergency responses to COVID-19, and correctional populations have already started rebounding toward pre-pandemic levels.
    Chart showing deaths of imprisoned people increased by 46% in 2020
  • Nationwide, states and the federal government actually released fewer people from prison in 2020 than in 2019.2 The decrease in the incarcerated population was not related to releases, but rather the 40% drop in prison admissions and 16% drop in jail admissions.
  • Deaths increased 46% in prisons from 2019 to 2020, 32% among people on parole, and 6% among people on probation. Jail deaths in 2020 have not yet been reported.
  • Even under the pressure of the pandemic, local jails held a larger share of unconvicted people than ever, and continued to hold far too many people for low-level offenses and technical violations.
  • State and federal policy responses to the threat of COVID-19 to incarcerated people varied widely, with a few states appearing to basically ignore the pandemic altogether.

 
 

It’s not all bad news: A few “silver linings” for women, youth, and others

While most of the significant changes in correctional populations are unlikely to be sustained after — or even during — the pandemic (more on that in the next section), there are a few positive changes that represent possible tipping points or reversals of seemingly intractable problems. With persistent pressure on policymakers, these changes have the potential to stick:

  • Women’s prison and jail populations, and incarceration rates, dropped by a larger percentage than men’s populations did.3 This trend held in all but one state prison system (Alaska), reversing the “gender divide” we’ve observed in the past decade of decarceration efforts.
  • Indigenous people experienced the greatest drop, proportionally, in jail populations and jail incarceration rates — nearly 35%. Before 2020, American Indians and Alaska Natives had been a population experiencing disproportionate jail growth, almost doubling between 2000-2019.4
  • Probation populations were down by over a quarter of a million people in 2020, with far more people going off probation than going on it. With over 3 million people under its thumb, probation is still the leading form of correctional control, and this drop contributed most to the 11% reduction in the overall “footprint” of correctional control.5
  • The number of youth held in adult prisons dropped by almost half (46%), and three more states joined the ranks of those no longer holding anyone under 18 in adult prisons, bringing the total to 21.6 Six other states that held large shares (5% or more) of the roughly 650 youth in prison in 2019 also reduced the number of youth held by at least a third in 2020.7

 
 

Overall, the “positive trends” in 2020 are nothing to get excited about

In 2020, we did see the kinds of reductions in the number of people under correctional control that we’ll need to see year after year to actually end mass incarceration. And these BJS reports express some of that optimism, with comments like “In 2020, the imprisonment rate was… the lowest since 1992” and “The 15% decrease in persons in state and federal prisons… was the largest single year decrease recorded since… 1926.”

BJS data improvements

We’ve long been critical of the Bureau of Justice Statistics’ underfunding and consequently delayed and/or not sufficiently detailed data publications, so in fairness, we also want to draw attention to some significant improvements we noticed in the agency’s recent publications.

BJS data improvements
We’ve long been critical of the Bureau of Justice Statistics’ underfunding and consequently delayed and insufficiently detailed data publications, so in fairness, we also want to draw attention to some significant improvements we noticed:

  • BJS is reporting more detailed demographic information more often. For example, the 2020 data publications report data for the American Indian/Alaska Native and Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander categories for the first time, and breaks down more tables by combined race/ethnicity and gender categories. Disaggregating the data in this way is essential for identifying disparities in criminal legal system involvement and outcomes, and for seeing how people with multiple marginalized characteristics (such as being Black and female) are uniquely impacted.
  • These recent reports also show a shift toward putting the numbers in more relatable, human terms in the text. For example, the author of the prison report writes, “An estimated 2% of all black male U.S. residents and 1% of all American Indian and Alaska Native male U.S. residents were serving time in state or federal prison.” And then, “Native American and Alaska Native females were 4.3 times as likely as white females to be in prison at yearend.” Putting rates that are usually expressed “per 100,000 residents” into more widely-understood percentages sacrifices a little bit of precision but makes these reports more accessible for a broader audience. (And the detailed rates are still available in the tables, of course.) Likewise, calculating the number of “times as likely” someone is to be incarcerated takes all the guesswork out of comparing rates and interpreting the data.
  • The addition of language about “conditional supervision violations” (i.e., technical violations of probation and parole) in the prisons report may indicate a BJS that’s more responsive to the data needs of policymakers and advocates than in past years. That report includes clearer data than we’ve seen from BJS on returns to incarceration for violations of supervision — and highlights these returns to incarceration in the interpretive text accompanying the statistical tables.
  • Similarly, BJS showed initiative and responsiveness to the needs of its audiences by collecting supplemental data to track changes happening due to COVID-19. Not all of the additional data collected has been published yet, but it should also be noted that BJS also published an additional report on jail population changes during the first half of 2020 in March of 2021 — the fastest turnaround we’ve seen in a long time between data collection and publication. (We recognize that BJS was doing this additional work while under the unanticipated stress and chaos of COVID-19, too.)
  • Finally, much their credit, the BJS report authors repeat throughout these reports that most, if not all, changes were due to temporary COVID-related policy changes. They took pains to explain some of these changes, such as court slowdowns and limitations on transfers from jails to prisons. Providing context for findings has not always been a strength of BJS reports — aside, perhaps, from the methodology sections, which many readers are bound to skip over — so this additional effort is noteworthy.

Such dramatic drops in the nation’s use of incarceration would truly be cause for celebration if they weren’t temporary and if they weren’t still “too little, too late” for the thousands of people who got sick or died in a prison or jail ravaged by COVID-19. Unfortunately, there is little reason to think that these drops will be sustained in a post-pandemic world, especially since they have already begun to rebound to pre-pandemic levels, even amid some of the worst outbreaks the U.S. has seen. Above all, we should not expect these trends to hold without sustained reforms, as opposed to temporary “emergency response” changes.

Here, we offer some important context for the trends observed in 2020:

Chart showing after  dropping at the start of the pandemic, jail populations are creeping back to normal.
  • Nationwide, jail populations have already rebounded to near pre-pandemic levels. While the BJS reports a 25% reduction in jail populations in 2020, that data only covers through midyear 2020 (i.e. the end of June). Because our work trying to shift the nation’s justice system response to COVID couldn’t wait for the official BJS data, we’ve been tracking jail population changes during the pandemic in over 400 county jails using data collected by the NYU Jail Data Initiative. Using that data, we’ve found that the populations of most jails in the sample started climbing back up after July 2020. Overall, the average population change since March 2020 among those jails had diminished to only a 7% decrease by October 2021.
  • Jail populations were still too high, even when they were at their lowest in mid-2020. Even in the summer of 2020, after county and city officials had slashed their local jail populations as much as they would at any point in the pandemic (to date, anyway), 1 in 14 jails was still badly overcrowded, holding more people than their rated capacity allows. And in mid-2020, the U.S. still locked up more people per capita in jails alone than most countries do in any type of confinement facilities. That “low” rate of 167 per 100,000 residents is still more than double what it was in 1980.
  • The decrease in the prison population was also temporary — and has started to bounce back up. Like the jail population changes, the 15% drop in the nation’s state and federal prison population is explained by temporary conditions caused by COVID-19, not long-term policy changes, nor even particularly intentional changes. The combination of trial and sentencing delays in courts and the refusal of some prisons to accept transfers from jails to prevent COVID transmission resulted in far fewer (40% fewer) admissions than usual. With only a few exceptions, state and federal officials made no effort to release large numbers of people from prison. In fact, there were fewer releases in 2020 than in 2019.

    Chart showing state prison populations are ticking back up despite the pandemic.

  • Most of the drop in prison populations occurred within the federal Bureau of Prisons and just three states: California, Florida, and Texas. And even states that reduced prison populations didn’t necessarily reach “safe” population levels (if any prison can be called “safe”). At the end of 2020, 1 in 5 state prison systems were at or above their design or rated capacity. Even California, which reduced its prison population more than any other state (down 25,000) was still locking up more people than its prisons were designed for, and it’s only added more people since then.
  • Among people “exiting” parole — either because their sentence was over, they were returned to incarceration, they died, or something else happened — roughly 1 in 5 (over 70,000) were returned to incarceration. This percentage was the smallest it’s been since at least 2005, but during a deadly pandemic that spreads easily in prisons, taking people off of community supervision and returning them to prison should not have been an option. Furthermore, the drop in re-incarceration compared to other years is most likely explained by changes in parole operations, not intentional policy choices: A quarter of agencies responding to a supplementary BJS survey reported suspending reporting requirements for at least a part of 2020.
  • As with other forms of correctional control, the reduction in the probation population was due to the COVID-19 emergency, not policy changes, and probation populations were also trending up by the end of 2020. And as with parole, the 35% decrease in returns to incarceration for technical violations, while a welcome change, is largely explained by interruptions in probation operations, and therefore is almost certainly temporary. About half of the agencies responding to BJS’s supplemental survey reported that they suspended all supervision and closed agencies for a period of time in 2020.

 
 

Deeply troubling findings: Deaths as “releases” and “exits,” fewer releases amid a pandemic, and bad jail policy choices

Beyond adding context to some of what would otherwise appear to be “positive trends,” our analysis of the 2020 BJS data surfaced some deeply troubling findings about deaths in prison and on community supervision, the failure of states to release more people during the pandemic, and jail policy choices that reveal backwards priorities.

In prisons, BJS reports several disturbing changes from pre-pandemic 2019 to the end of 2020:

  • Deaths in prison increased by 46% nationwide. More than 6,100 people died in prison in 2020, which was 1,930 more deaths than in 2019.8 California, Florida, Texas, and the federal Bureau of Prisons all saw more than 500 people die in their prisons in 2020 alone (there have been more deaths since).
    Chart showing states released fewer people during 2020 than in 2019
  • State and federal prisons released ten percent fewer people during the first year of the pandemic, a significant change compared to the typical 1-3% annual fluctuation in the number of releases. Some of this decrease may be explained by slowdowns in parole board functions (we see a lot of drops in “conditional” releases, which would include releases on parole), but in eight states, at least 2% of “releases” were, in fact, deaths. At a time when vaccines were not available and families, advocates, and public health officials were sounding the alarms about the extreme risks of COVID in and around correctional facilities, far more people should have been released from prisons — not far fewer.

As in previous years, there is a lot of data missing about what happens to people on probation and parole; in many states, BJS reports little about how many people complete supervision successfully, how many are returned to jail or prison, why they are returned, etc. But in 2020, one dismal trend was clear: Many so-called “exits” from probation and parole were actually deaths:

  • A total of 22,573 people on probation and parole died in 2020, which represents about 2,800 (14%) more deaths than in 2019.
  • Exits from parole due to death increased by 32% (1,945 additional deaths) from 2019 to 2020. This accounted for over 2% of parole “exits.”
  • Exits from probation due to death increased in 28 of 38 reporting states from 2019 to 2020, an overall increase of over 6% (891 additional deaths). Additionally (and somewhat mysteriously), the number of “other” exits more than doubled (with over 50,000 more “other” exits), but there is no further detail on what those “other” exits might have been.

Getting state-by-state data, such as the BJS made available in the reports on prisons and on probation and parole populations in 2020, is key to bringing some important facts to light that would otherwise be obscured by the larger, nationwide trends. The state-specific data reported by BJS revealed that some states seemed to largely ignore the urgency and seriousness of the pandemic’s impact on correctional populations:

  • Alaska’s incarcerated population actually increased by over 2% (over 100 people) in 2020. It was the only state to show an increase during this time. Worse, most of the increase was among the unsentenced (pretrial or pre-sentence) population, which means authorities made a choice to incarcerate many people who weren’t even serving a sentence.
  • Nebraska’s prison population dropped only 6.6%, making it one of only three states with less than a 10% decrease. It also has the dubious distinction of being the one state to exceed its most generous measure of capacity,9 at 119% of its prisons’ operational capacity. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Nebraska saw a greater-than-average (71%) increase in deaths in its prisons compared to 2019.
  • Five states held more youth under age 18 in adult prisons in 2020 than in 2019: Alaska, Iowa, Nebraska (where their numbers doubled), Pennsylvania, and Tennessee.
  • During the pandemic, most states saw reducing incarceration for violations of probation and parole conditions as “low hanging fruit” for depopulating prisons and jails, resulting in a 35% drop in returns to prison for violations nationwide. But six states returned almost the same number of people to prison for technical violations in 2020 as they did in 2019: Arizona, Arkansas, Missouri, Nebraska, Ohio, and Virginia. Not only is locking people up for violations of conditions counterproductive for their success and much more costly, it’s a clearly unnecessary and serious health risk during a pandemic.

Finally, while BJS has not yet released data about deaths in jails in 2020, the jail data suggests some truly confounding policy choices at the local level that year:

  • One change likely to have long-term implications is that jail capacity actually grew during the pandemic by quite a bit: The capacity of jails nationwide grew by 6,000 beds in one year (compare that to an increase of 700 beds the year before). With this additional capacity, authorities are able to jail over 5% more people than they were ten years ago.
  • In 2020, people in jail spent an average of two days longer locked up in dangerous conditions compared to 2019.10 Overall, the estimated average jail stay has increased by a whole week (31%) between 2010 and 2020. Like the other changes in 2020, the longer jail stays in 2020 are due to changes in courts and prisons related to COVID-19. But whatever the reason, longer stays meant vulnerable people were more exposed to extremely risky jail conditions, when their exposure should have been minimized.
  • People who weren’t even convicted of a crime (i.e., those held in jail pretrial) made up a larger share of the total jail population than they have since at least 1995 — probably more than in any other year. At a time when jail populations should have been reduced to the bare minimum, why were jails holding so many legally innocent people?
  • In response to the pandemic, many jurisdictions aimed to reduce the use of jails for low-level offenses. But in the summer of 2020, almost 1 in 4 (23%) people in jail were still held for misdemeanors, civil infractions, or unknown offenses — that is, not felonies. Moreover, the practice of jailing people for violations of probation and parole conditions still accounted for almost 1 in 5 (18%) people in jail in mid-2020.11
  • Black people made up a larger share of the jail population than they have since 2015, because the 22% jail population drop among Black people was proportionally smaller than the 28% drop among white people. While the difference was not dramatic, this imbalance should serve as a reminder that decarceration efforts must always prioritize racial equity.

 
 

Conclusions

The recent data reported by BJS about prison, jail, probation, and parole populations during the first year of the pandemic drive home just how quickly things can change under pressure. By and large, the changes we saw during 2020 were temporary, but they suggest how much is politically and practically feasible when there is a critical mass of support to save lives put at risk by mass incarceration. It’s encouraging to see rapid population drops of 15-25% in prisons and jails, to see the total “footprint” of the carceral system shrink by over 10% in one year, and to see that, when pressed, states and counties can find ways to function without so much reliance on correctional control. It’s also helpful to see the weaknesses in such decision-making, which are put into sharp relief when under the same pressure: Racial equity is too often an afterthought in decarceration efforts, and local-level authorities, in particular, too often lack alternatives to incarceration for low-level offenses and supervision violations, and are too quick to lock up people accused, but not convicted, of crimes. There are many lessons for policymakers and advocates for reform in the data from 2020.

At the same time, the fact that many positive early-pandemic policy changes were so short-lived is disheartening. After all, the pandemic rages on two years later, and correctional populations continue to climb back up — what has changed? For one thing, the narrative has changed: The perception (not a reality) that criminal justice reforms have led to upticks in crime over the past few years has fueled pushback against smart policy changes. That perception is powerful, and history shows that reactionary policies can follow: In the 1980s and 1990s, the last time prison and jail populations were as low as they were in 2020, the knee-jerk reaction to (much bigger) increases in crime was to lock more people up, and for longer. There’s a lesson in that for us, too.

Ultimately, centering the facts in our ongoing discussions about safety and justice — and grounding them with context — will be key to sustaining support for any progress toward ending mass incarceration. Towards that end, the recent data from BJS summarized here about changes during 2020 are essential resources.

 
 

Footnotes

  1. Specifically, state prison populations dropped 15%, federal prison populations fell 13%, jail populations fell 25%, and probation populations fell 8%. Parole populations increased by just over 1%. Overall, the total number of incarcerated people (i.e., in prisons or jails) fell 18.5% and the total number of people under community supervision (i.e., on probation or parole) fell nearly 7%. The total population under any of these forms of correctional control — that is, the overall “footprint” of the criminal punishment system — shrank by almost 11% (or 676,000 people) from 2019 to 2020.  ↩

  2. State and federal prisons released 58,404 (10%) fewer people in 2020 than in 2019.  ↩

  3. Nationwide, women’s jail populations and jail incarceration rates dropped by 37% from 2019 to 2020, while men’s dropped by 23%. The number of women in federal prisons fell 17%; the number of men fell 13%. And the number of women in state prisons fell 24%, compared to a drop of 14.5% among men. Similarly, the female prison incarceration rate (per 100,000) fell by 22%, while the male imprisonment rate fell by 14%.  ↩

  4. As we discuss in an October 2021 briefing, the growth of the Native population in jails far outpaced the growth of the total jail population over the same time period. Nationwide, jail populations grew 18% from 2000 to 2019, while Native populations grew 85%. Meanwhile, the number of people held in Indian Country jails (that is, jail on tribal lands) also increased by 62%.  ↩

  5. Importantly, the drop in probation populations was paired with drops in the prison and jail population, so we know that this wasn’t a case of “balloon squeezing,” wherein large numbers of people are simply shifted from one form of correctional control to another.  ↩

  6. These states now include New York, Utah, and Vermont. Eighteen states already held zero youth 17 or younger in state prisons in 2019: California, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Maine, Massachusetts, Montana, New Jersey, New Mexico, North Dakota, Oregon, Rhode Island, South Dakota, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. Sadly, five states actually held more youth age 17 or younger in state prisons in 2020 than in 2019: Alaska (5 in 2019, 8 in 2020); Iowa (0 in 2019, 6 in 2020); Nebraska (7 in 2019, 14 in 2020); Pennsylvania (9 in 2019, 11 in 2020); and Tennessee (9 in 2019, 10 in 2020). No change was reported in Missouri (4 in both years) or Nevada (11 in both years).  ↩

  7. Six states that held at least 5% of all youth 17 or younger in state prisons in 2019 reduced these populations by at least one-third in 2020: Arizona (55 in 2019, 6 in 2020; Connecticut (52 in 2019, 31 in 2020); Florida (81 in 2019, 44 in 2020); North Carolina (61 in 2019, 29 in 2020); Texas (38 in 2019, 16 in 2020); and Ohio (36 in 2019, 24 in 2020).  ↩

  8. The Bureau of Justice Statistics reports that 6,112 people under state or federal jurisdiction, serving sentences of over 1 year, were “released” due to death in 2020, compared to 4,182 in 2019.  ↩

  9. 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 2020, 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 12,388 people, while the operational capacity (based on staffing and service levels) is 22,896 people. In its report, the BJS calculated what percentage of the capacity each jurisdiction was operating at for each available definition of capacity, and reported the custody population as percentage of the lowest capacity and highest capacity. In a state like Alabama, this can create a wide range — the BJS calculated that in December 2020, the state was operating at 79% of its highest capacity measure, which was its operational capacity, and 146% based on its lowest capacity measure, its design capacity. But by any measure, there are too many people in Alabama’s prisons, especially during a pandemic.
     ↩

  10. For people in larger jails (holding over 500 people), the average jail stay was over one month, and in the largest jails (2,500 people or more) the average was over 39 days.  ↩

  11. These two groups — people held for misdemeanors, civil infractions, or unknown offenses and people held for probation and parole violations — overlap and should not be considered mutually exclusive.  ↩


Securus wants the FCC to waive its rules, but won’t disclose important details about how the plans work.

by Wanda Bertram, January 10, 2022

Securus, a giant prison phone company with a history of misconduct, recently petitioned the Federal Communications Commission to give the company special permission to peddle flat-rate subscription plans in lieu of charging callers a set amount per minute. The Prison Policy Initiative asked the FCC today to reject Securus’s flimsy bid for special regulatory treatment. In our comments to the FCC, we express our concerns with Securus’s petition:

  1. Subscription plans could be a good deal for consumers. Or they could be a rip-off. As with most things, the devil is in the details, but Securus hasn’t provided any details on how its subscriptions work. The company’s marketing materials play down or completely omit important details about the plans — for example, that all payments you make via the subscription model are non-refundable, even in the (quite common) case that your loved one can’t use the phone for days or weeks. Securus emphasizes the potentially positive aspects of its subscription products while withholding most details that could make customers reasonably question the value of a subscription plan.
  2. Securus makes several claims about its subscription plan — including claiming that a pilot of the subscription plan showed “increased call length” and “reduced costs” — without providing any supporting data.
  3. Securus claims that the “effective” per-minute rates for its subscription plans are “well below” the FCC’s current rate caps, but this claim is based on the debatable assumption that subscribers will use all the minutes they possibly can.
  4. Securus has declined to disclose important details about its pilot of the subscription model, such as how many customers subscribed, what subscribers’ average usage was, what the average per-minute rate for users was, and what Securus’s profit margin on subscription programs was.
  5. We still don’t know what counts as a “call” under the subscription pricing plan. If an incarcerated caller places a call but no one answers, this may count against the weekly or monthly allowance, making subscriptions a far worse deal for consumers. This is just one of several material questions that Securus doesn’t answer in its petition.
  6. Securus hasn’t even precisely defined what it wants. At various points in the petition it states that it wants to: continue its pilot subscription program at eight prisons and jails, expand the program, or let any phone company offer subscription plans.

The FCC shouldn’t waive its long-standing rules for Securus unless it would clearly serve the public interest to do so. Securus should face a high burden of proof before the FCC grants it special treatment, particularly given the company’s history of nickel-and-diming its customers.

You can read our full comments here.


The research is clear: visitation, mail, phone, and other forms of contact between incarcerated people and their families have positive impacts for everyone — including better health, reduced recidivism, and improvement in school. Here’s a roundup of over 50 years of empirical study, and a reminder that prisons and jails often pay little more than lip service to the benefits of family contact.

by Leah Wang, December 21, 2021

To incarcerated people and their families, it’s glaringly obvious that staying in touch by any means necessary — primarily through visits, phone calls, and mail — is tremendously important and beneficial to everyone involved. Yet prisons and jails are notorious for making communication difficult or impossible. People are incarcerated far from home and visitation access is limited, phone calls are expensive and sometimes taken away as punishment, mail is censored and delayed, and video calls and emerging technologies are all too often used as an expensive (and inferior) replacement for in-person visits.

Prison- and jail-imposed barriers to family contact fly in the face of decades of social science research showing associations between family contact and outcomes including in-prison behavior, measures of health, and reconviction after release. Advocates and families fighting for better, easier communication behind bars can turn to this research, which demonstrates that encouraging family contact is not only humane, but contributes to public safety.

 
 

In-person visitation is incredibly beneficial, reducing recidivism and improving health and behavior

The positive effects of visitation have been well-known for decades — particularly when it comes to reducing recidivism. A 1972 study on visitation that followed 843 people on parole from California prisons found that those who had no visitors during their incarceration were six times more likely to be reincarcerated than people with three or more visitors. A few years later, researchers found similar results in a study of people paroled from Hawaii State Prison.

a chart people in state prisons who received visitors were less likely to return to prison after release.

Since the 1970s, the body of evidence in favor of prison visitation has only grown. In 2008, researchers found that among 7,000 people released from state prisons in Florida, each additional visit received during incarceration lowered the odds of two-year recidivism by 3.8 percent (in this study, recidivism was defined as reconviction). Findings out of Minnesota a few years later were similar: Receiving one visit per month was associated with a 0.9 percent decrease in someone’s risk of reincarceration; better yet, each unique visitor to an incarcerated person reduced the risk of re-conviction by a notable 3 percent.1 Among people who received visits during their incarceration, felony re-convictions were 13 percent lower and revocations for technical violations of parole were 25 percent lower compared to people who did not receive visits.

Visitation is also correlated with adherence to prison rules. In 2019, an Iowa researcher found that in-prison misconduct (as measured by official citations) was reduced in people who received visits at Iowa state prisons. Based on these results, one additional visit per month would reduce misconduct by a further 14 percent. “Probably as a direct result of the reduced misconducts,” the study’s author notes, “a similar increase in visitation would also reduce time served by 11 percent.”

These findings add to other recent studies linking visitation and reduced prison misconduct. The timing of visits may matter, as visiting “privileges” can swiftly be taken away as a cruel punishment: According to one study, misconduct tended to decrease in the three weeks before a visit. This may explain why more frequent visits lead to more consistent good behavior, better overall outcomes and post-release success. Families who visit, concluded Holt and Miller in the California study, are a “prime treatment agent” for incarcerated people.2

Research has also found that visitation is linked to better mental health, including reduced depressive symptoms — an important intervention for the isolated, stressful experience of incarceration. Yet even before the pandemic halted visitation, and despite these known benefits, correctional facilities have made visitation hard due to remote locations, harsh policies, and the financial incentives to replace visits with inferior video calls.

 
 

Consistent phone calls to family improve relationships

Phone calls tend to be more common than in-person visitation, as they involve fewer logistical barriers. In fact, the key studies we found reveal that 80 percent or more respondents used phone calls to contact family, far more than the number receiving visits, and sometimes more than those using mail to keep in contact.3 As with visitation, family phone calls are shown to reduce the likelihood of recidivism; more consistent and/or frequent phone calls were linked to the lowest odds of returning to prison.

A 2014 study of incarcerated women found that those who had any phone contact with a family member were less likely to be reincarcerated within the five years after their release. In fact, phone contact had a stronger effect on recidivism compared to visitation, which the study also examined.

Of course, reduced recidivism is not the only benefit. A 2020 survey of incarcerated parents showed that parent-child relationships improved when they had frequent (weekly) phone calls.

These positive findings have not gone unnoticed by senior policy makers: “Meaningful communication beyond prison walls helps to promote rehabilitation and reduce recidivism,” explained Mignon Clyburn of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) in a 2015 statement on the high cost of phone calls. “In a nation as great as ours, there is no legitimate reason why anyone else should ever again be forced to make these levels of sacrifices, to stay connected.”4

Given the frequency and importance of phone calls from prisons and jails, their prohibitive cost in many jurisdictions and the loss of phone “privileges” as a punishment are both inhumane and counterproductive.

 
 

Mail correspondence is a lifeline, and taking it away only hurts families

Mail is widely understood as a major lifeline for incarcerated people, with some literature finding that it’s the most common form of family contact.The fulfilling feeling of receiving personal mail, the ability to write and read (and reread) mail at one’s own pace, and the relatively low cost of a letter mean that it’s a highly practical and cherished mode of communication, universal to people both inside and outside of prison. And while prison mail hasn’t taken center stage in academic literature, some of the studies mentioned earlier did examine mail contact as part of their methods, finding that it contributes to parent-child attachment and relationship quality.

Yet mail is another example of a service whose benefits become obvious once it’s under attack. In 2007, notoriously cruel Maricopa County, Arizona, sheriff Joe Arpaio instituted a postcard-only policy in the county jail, with sheriffs in at least 14 states following suit. These postcard-only policies severely limit parents’ and children’s ability to stay in touch. A study of incarcerated parents in Arizona cited mail as the most common mode of communication with their children, and those who used mail contact reported improved relationships with their children as compared to the year before their incarceration. Postcards also change the economic argument for mail correspondence: With their tiny physical space available for writing, we found that relaying information on a postcard is about 34 times as expensive as in a letter.

In recent years, other correctional systems have embraced another mail-restriction policy that advocates know is harmful: The telecom company Smart Communications has created “MailGuard,” a mail digitization service marketed as a response to (exaggerated) claims of contraband entering prisons through the mail. MailGuard’s scans of letters and photographs tend to be low-quality, and privacy is clearly violated as one’s mail is opened and scanned. We’ve criticized this practice and maintain that mail scanning is a poor substitute for true mail correspondence.5

 
 

Video calling and emerging technologies could enhance carceral contact if they weren’t prohibitively expensive

Sometimes billed as “video visitation,” video calling from prisons and jails allows families to connect virtually. Used effectively as a supplement, video calls could help eliminate many of the barriers that in-person visitation presents. However, we’ve argued time and time again that these calls fail to replicate the psychological experience — and therefore benefits — of in-person visitation, and should never be used as a replacement. A 2014 survey found incarcerated people in Washington State were pleased when video calling allowed family to see them, but extremely frustrated by the cost and significant technical challenges of the software. Video calling is a “double-edged sword” providing a mediocre service while lining the pockets of private corporations.

Most advocates and groups (including the American Correctional Association) agree that video calling should only supplement in-person visitation, not replace it entirely. But anecdotally, some corrections officials offer video calling only, and promote it as a safer and more efficient option to visitation. (In terms of safety, the argument that most contraband is introduced into prisons through visitation is a myth we’ve busted.)

In fact, taking away visitation can make prisons and jails less safe. For example, when in-person visits were banned at the jail in Knox County, Tennessee, in favor of video-only visitation, incarcerated people lost the opportunity to maintain healthy social connections. As a result, assaults between incarcerated people and assaults on staff increased in the months after the ban on visits was implemented. Data also show that, similar to the Iowa study mentioned earlier, disciplinary infractions in the jail increased after the ban.

Rate of assaults increased after in-person visits were eliminated in Knox County, TN Though the Knox County, Tennessee Sheriff’s Office claimed video-only visitation would be safer, the data suggest the opposite: The replacement of family visits with video calls at the Knox County Detention Facility resulted in more assaults between incarcerated people and on staff. There was also no drop in the rate of reported contraband, and there were higher levels of disciplinary infractions at the jail. See more of the devastating findings compiled by the grassroots coalition Face to Face Knox.

The Knox County research wasn’t an isolated finding: In Travis County, Texas, there was an escalation of violence and contraband after that jail switched from offering both video calls and visitation for a few years, to banning in-person visitation altogether. The change also reduced overall family contact: The number of video calls dropped dramatically compared to the average number of in-person visits that had happened at the jail before the policy change. As it turns out, the availability of both in-person visitation and video calling actually increased the average number of in-person monthly visits. And unsurprisingly, visitors who were surveyed overwhelmingly preferred in-person visitation to video calling. In 2015, the Travis County Sheriff’s Office reinstated in-person visits.

Technologies like video calling (and electronic messaging) have the potential to improve quality of life for incarcerated people and help correctional administrators run safer and more humane facilities. New research suggests that video calls may even help reduce recidivism (but only when they supplement in-person visits). Sadly, the promise of these new services is often tempered by a relentless focus on turning incarcerated people and their families into revenue streams.

 
 

Families endure tremendous hardship due to incarceration, but staying in touch can mitigate negative impacts

Many of the studies discussed here focused on the benefits of family contact for incarcerated people. But what about their families — do they gain from the time spent visiting, writing, or calling? Research says yes, family contact also provides relief to the family of an incarcerated person. This is important, because simply having an incarcerated loved one indicates poorer health and a shorter lifespan. In particular, children — the “hidden victims” of incarceration — are at increased risk for mental health problems and substance use disorders, and face worse intellectual outcomes compared to children without an incarcerated family member. (Youth can themselves be confined in detention facilities, turning parents into visitors; similar to the research explored earlier, visitation of confined youth was remarkably beneficial.6)

Research suggests that families who visited during a loved one’s incarceration show improved mental health measures and have a higher probability of remaining together after release. And a 1977 study, explained in a larger review of family contact research, found that children who had displayed concerning behavior upon their fathers’ incarceration showed improved behavior after visiting with their fathers.

The R Street Institute sums it up nicely: Supportive family relationships can promote psychological and physiological health for incarcerated people and their loved ones, at a time when everyone’s health is otherwise deteriorating. When done well, visitation can ease anxiety in children and mitigate some of the impacts on strained interpersonal relationships. Serving families at this most critical period simply makes communities healthier.

 
 

Making family contact readily available should be a no-brainer for prisons and jails

Of course, staying in touch with an incarcerated person is almost never easy. There can be great distress and tension as a family navigates its role, and the inconsistent timing and frequency of contact can be unsettling to someone whose incarceration is overly predictable and tedious, while life outside can be anything but.

Still, academic research is unified in its message that family contact during incarceration provides immense benefits, both during incarceration and the reentry period. Prisons and jails should make all types of family contact safely and equitably available, and end the practice of taking contact away as a punishment for rule violations. And with no certain access to visitation as the pandemic wears on, families and incarcerated people should receive more phone and video time, fewer fees, and better mail options in order to preserve family ties and the critical benefits that result from family contact.

Below, we’ve compiled all of the research discussed and linked above as a bibliography for our readers. And for further reading on the harmful restrictions on communication between incarcerated people and their loved ones, see our resources on visitation and our campaigns fighting for phone, mail, and visitation justice.

 
 

Bibliography

Adams, D. & J. Fischer (1976). The effects of prison residents’ community contacts on recidivism rates Paywall :(. Corrective & Social Psychiatry & Journal of Behavior Technology, Methods & Therapy, 22(4): 21-27.

Agudelo, S.V. (2013). The Impact of Family Visitation on Incarcerated
Youth’s Behavior and School Performance: Findings from the Families as Partners Project
. Vera Institute of Justice Family Justice Program.

Bales, W. D. & D. P. Mears (2008). Inmate Social Ties and the Transition to Society: Does Visitation Reduce Recidivism? Paywall :( Journal of Research in Crime and Deliquency 45(3): 287-321.

Barrick, K. Lattimore, P. K., & Visher, C. A. (2014). Reentering Women: The Impact of Social Ties on Long-Term Recidivism. The Prison Journal 94(3): 279-304.

Bertram, W. (2021). The Biden Administration must walk back the MailGuard program banning mail from home in federal prisons. Blog post. Prison Policy Initiative.

Cochran, J. C. (2012). The ties that bind or the ties that break: Examining the relationship between visitation and prisoner misconduct Paywall :(. Journal of Criminal Justice 40(5): 433-440.

Clyburn, M. (2013). Statement re: Rates for Interstate Inmate Calling Services, WC Docket 12-375. Federal Communications Commission.

De Claire, K. & L. Dixon (2015). The Effects of Prison Visits From Family Members on Prisoners’ Well-Being, Prison Rule Breaking, and Recidivism: A Review of Research Since 1991. Trauma Violence & Abuse 18(2): 1-15.

Digard, L., J. LaChance, & J. Hill (2017). Closing the Distance: The Impact of Video Visits in Washington State. Vera Institute of Justice.

Duwe, G. & V. Clark (2011). The Effects of Prisoner Visitation on Offender Recidivism. Criminal Justice Policy Review 24(3): 271-296.

Duwe, G. & S. McNeeley (2020). Just as Good as the Real Thing? The Effects of Prison Video Visitation on Recidivism. Crime & Delinquency 67(2): 1-23.

Fulcher, P. A. (2013). The Double-Edged Sword of Prison Video Visitation: Claiming to Keep Families Together While Furthering the Aims of the Prison Industrial Complex. Florida A&M Law Review 9 (1): 83-112.

Hairston, C.F. (1991). Family Ties During Imprisonment: Important to Whom and For What? Journal of Sociology & Social Welfare 18(1): 87-104.

Haverkate, D. L. & Wright, K. A. (2020). The differential effects of prison contact on parent-child relationship quality and child behavioral changes. Corrections: Policy, Practice, & Research 5: 222-244.

Holt, N. & D. Miller (1972). Explorations in Inmate-Family Relationships. Sacramento, Calif.: California Department of Corrections Research Division.

Lee, L. M. (2019). Far From Home and All Alone: The Impact of Prison Visitation on Recidivism. American Law and Economics Review 21(2): 431-481.

Mooney, E. & N. Bila (2018). The importance of supporting family connections to ensure successful re-entry. R Street Institute.

Poehlmann, J. (2005). Children’s Family Environments and Intellectual Outcomes During Maternal Incarceration Paywall :(. Journal of Marriage and Family 67(5): 1275-1285.

Renaud, J. (2014). Video Visitation: How private companies push for visits by video and families pay the price. Grassroots Leadership and Texas Criminal Justice Coalition.

Renaud, J. (2018). Who’s really bringing contraband into jails? Our 2018 survey confirms it’s staff, not visitors. Prison Policy Initiative.

Sakala, L. (2013). Return to Sender: Postcard-Only Mail Policies. Prison Policy Initiative.

Siennick, S. E. et al (2012). Here and Gone: Anticipation and Separation Effects of Prison Visits on Inmate Infractions Paywall :(. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency 50(3): 417-444.

Tahamont, S. (2011). The Effect of Visitation on Prison Misconduct [poster presentation]. IGERT Program in Politics, Economics and Psychology at University of California, Berkeley.

Wagner, P. & A. Jones (2019). State of Phone Justice. Prison Policy Initiative.

Widra, E. (2016). Travis County, Texas: A Case Study on Video Visitation. Prison Policy Initiative,

Widra, E. (2021). New data: People with incarcerated loved ones have shorter life expectancies and poorer health. Prison Policy Initiative.

See the full bibliography

 
 

Footnotes

  1. In this study, both family members and non-family members like mentors and clergy were connected to this reduced risk of recidivism.  ↩

  2. More importantly, Holt and Miller assert that “correctional systems can no longer afford to incarcerate inmates in areas so remote from their home communities as to make visiting virtually impossible.” Located in inconvenient areas for many, prisons are getting in their own way when it comes to treatment and rehabilitation.  ↩

  3. For example, in a 2020 study examining contact between children and their incarcerated female parents, researchers found that when children communicated with their parents in prison, 76% of those who used phone contact did so weekly, 45% who used mail did so weekly, and 31% who visited did so weekly.  ↩

  4. The FCC, which regulates the cost of phone calls in the United States, has made strides in capping prison and jail phone rates and shutting down abusive practices by telecom companies. (We have successfully fought for some of these changes.)  ↩

  5. While there are still many harmful policies in place, some prisons and jails have backed down when families and the courts call out these attacks on mail, such as in Portland, Oregon, in 2012 and in Santa Clara County, California, in 2015.  ↩

  6. A study of family visitation frequency in Ohio juvenile facilities found that youth who were visited by family regularly (defined as weekly) had a grade point average that was 2.1 points higher than youth who were infrequently or never visited. Additionally, behavioral incidents decreased as the overall frequency of visitation increased among the families of confined youth. The researchers note that white youth in this study had higher GPAs than nonwhite youth, and that factors beyond their control could be contributing to the calculation of GPAs of youths of different races, so they suggest that the results merit further exploration. Still, frequent family visitation did improve GPAs after controlling for race and other variables.  ↩


The FCC has regulated video calling since the 1960s, and there is no reason why it should not use its authority to crack down on high prices and unfair practices in the correctional video-calling market.

by Stephen Raher, December 20, 2021

On Friday December 17, Prison Policy Initiative presented our latest arguments to the Federal Communications Commission regarding steps that the agency should take to combat financial exploitation of incarcerated people and their family members.

A decade ago, the battle for prison and jail phone justice was in its formative years. At that time the movement was focused on phone justice because telephone calling was the only technology available to most incarcerated people for real-time communication. But a lot has changed in the intervening time — new technologies are proliferating in prisons and jails, most prominently video calling.

While activists have won several notable victories in terms of bringing down outrageous phone rates, correctional video calling is completely unregulated. In the face of legal requirements to reduce phone rates, many companies are simply steering people to use more expensive video calling. Our recent filing provides the FCC with a blueprint for addressing this growing problem.

A woman using the AT&T PicturePhone

AT&T’s Picturephone provided video calling service in the 1960s. Although the product was a commercial disappointment, the Commission regulated Picturephone as a communication service without any serious objection. Source: Jon Gertner, The Idea Factory: Bell Labs and the Great Age of American Innovation (2012) (reprint courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center).

The dominant prison telecom companies have waged a years-long misinformation campaign claiming that the FCC lacks the power to regulate video calling. But the legal arguments upon which the companies base their clams are gravely flawed. The FCC has regulated video calling since the 1960s, and there is no reason why it should not use its authority to crack down on high prices and unfair practices in the correctional video-calling market.

Our filing provides an extensive analysis that the FCC can use to reject industry arguments and assert its power to protect consumers. We remain hopeful that the FCC will rise to this challenge.
Other topics that we address in our filing include:

  • The need for the FCC to act as quickly as possible to further reduce limits on voice-calling rates and ancillary fees.
  • The thorny issue of jail security costs: we review the evidence gathered by the FCC and encourage the agency to not cave to the National Sheriffs’ Association demands that jails be able to charge families for a wide range of security services.
  • Industry seizure of customer prepaid funds from “inactive” accounts, and the need to prevent this practice.
  • The dominant company’s improper use of patents to stifle competition in the industry and the need for an investigation.








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