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Lawmakers Opt For Study Over Elimination of Jail, Prison Fees

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Incarcerated people and their loved ones will continue to pay fees that advocates and some lawmakers say are too stiff.

Senate Bill 581, introduced by Sen. Joseph Morrissey, D-Richmond, initially proposed to eliminate jail fees related to the costs of an inmate’s keep, work release, or participation in educational or rehabilitative programs. Additional costs include telephone services, commissaries and electronic visitation systems. 

Paulettra James, the co-founder of Sistas in Prison Reform, said she spent thousands of dollars providing funds for her son and husband, both of whom are incarcerated. Her husband is currently incarcerated at Deerfield Correctional Facility in Southampton County and her son is at Coffeewood Correctional Center in Culpeper. The fees go toward commissary expenses, phone calls, stamps and taxes, James said.

“One thing statistics and science has shown is that individuals who have constant contact with their loved ones are less likely to recidivate,” James said. “It’s important for families to stay in touch with their loved ones, it gives them a sense of hope, a sense of stability and a sense of being loved.”

Findings from the nonprofit research and advocacy group Prison Policy Initiative back that up. Incarcerated people, along with their families and loved ones, also have better health, and improved school performance when they have contact.

Legislative Action

Del. Patrick Hope, D-Arlington, introduced a companion bill with identical objectives to Morrissey’s measure, but it added language incorporating prisons. 

Lawmakers made several amendments to Hope’s bill, which resulted in the development of a workgroup study led by the Department of Corrections.

Morrissey’s amended bill established a workgroup led by the State Board of Local and Regional Jails which will involve law enforcement organizations and advocacy groups.

“Although a workgroup was not the ideal scenario, I look forward to reviewing the outcome of the published study from the workgroup,” Morrissey stated.

The Senate bill was drafted by Shawn Weneta, a policy and advocacy strategist with the Virginia ACLU. Weneta served approximately 16 years on a 30-year embezzlement conviction and was pardoned by former Gov. Ralph Northam. 

The measure would have cut hidden taxes, increased public safety and kept families connected, according to Weneta.

“The people that can’t afford to send the least to somebody that is incarcerated are having to pay the most,” Weneta said. “It’s predatory profiteering off the backs of people who can least afford it.”

The incarcerated are a “captive market” which gives the state government control over the price of goods and services, according to legislative liaison Ben Knotts with Americans for Prosperity in Virginia.

“When we told the committee that in some cases they were charging $40 for 100 count of Advil in some of these jails, I mean their mouths literally hit the floor, they were shocked,” Knotts said.

Morrissey said he introduced the bill to regulate and decrease costs within jails, including costs related to phone calls, emails and commissary items.

“These high-priced items and services do not simply burden those incarcerated; these costs fall mostly on the shoulders of an inmate’s family and loved ones,” Morrissey stated in an email. “We, as members of the General Assembly, cannot let these practices continue.”

Sen. Joseph Morrissey, D-Richmond. File photo.

Commissary Fees

A commission is earned from commissary sales, which includes items such as toothpaste, feminine products and food.

Benjamin Jarvela, deputy director of communications with the Virginia Department of Corrections, stated that VADOC takes a 9.5% commission for commissary sales. The rate is expected to drop to 9% by this summer. 

VADOC commissions “are among the lowest in the country,” according to Jarvela, who stated that commissary commissions in several other states exceed 30%, or more than triple the VADOC rate.

Commissary sales fund programs and “quality of life services” for inmates, including travel assistance for families of inmates who qualify, according to Jarvela. The funding also helps cover cable TV and recreation equipment costs, he stated. 

Communication Costs

VADOC takes about a 5 cent commission for every email sent, according to Weneta. 

The email fees are used to supplement funding for inmate post-secondary educational programs and vocational education, according to Jarvela. There are glaring disparities between jails across the state in how much inmates are charged for a 15-minute phone call, according to the Prison Policy Initiative.

Hampton City Jail and the William G. Truesdale Adult Detention Center charge about $11 for a 15-minute call. Many other Virginia jails charge around $4 or less, according to 2019 data from Prison Policy Initiative. Inmates housed in jails around Virginia that use the telephone provider service Securus often pay the highest rates, the report shows.

Telephone service providers collect about $2 for phone calls to Hampton City Jail, while family and friends of inmates are charged about $10. This leaves the sheriff to collect about $8 per 15-minute call, according to Weneta.

“What’s happening is that the sheriff is artificially quintupling the price of a phone call and collecting an 800% commission on that call,” Weneta said.

Advocacy groups such as the Humanization Project, Worth Rises, and Americans for Prosperity researched where the imposed fees went. 

“We discovered that in the last five years, the sheriff’s offices in Virginia have collected over $183 million in commissions, yet only spent about $9 million of that in programs to benefit people that are incarcerated,” Weneta said. 

The Virginia Sheriffs’ Association supported the legislation and will take part in the workgroup to “address any issues that are documented which reflect excessive charges,” stated Executive Director John W. Jones. The authorized fees allow jails to provide inmates with virtual visits from families and support inmate work programs, which allow sheriffs to locate employment opportunities for the formerly incarcerated, according to Jones.

“All of the money collected under the Code are used exclusively for the benefit of inmates in the care of sheriffs,” Jones stated in an email. 

Some fees are targeted to harm the people who cannot afford them, Weneta said. For example, it costs $6 to deposit $25 into an inmate’s trust account, but only $10 to deposit $300, he said.

The introduced legislation proposed that fees charged when depositing to an inmate’s account could not exceed 3% of the amount received.

Prison vendors take advantage of families with low income and limited financial means, according to Bianca Tylek, executive director of Worth Rises. The nonprofit organization is focused on dismantling what it said is a multibillion-dollar exploitative industry. Tylek has led several campaigns to make jail phone calls free. 

“We know that people often don’t have $300 to put on an account and so you know, typically those who are making deposits that are in much smaller amounts are getting exploited the most,” Tylek said.

Impact on Families 

Many families of the incarcerated deal with financial burdens to communicate through email and phone calls. Over a third go into debt attempting to pay the correspondence fees, according to the Who Pays Report. The report was a national community-driven research project with multiple partners.

“What we found in our research is that one in three families go into debt just trying to stay in contact with an incarcerated loved one, and those fees were most egregious in the jails,” Weneta said. 

Knotts said that a woman in his congregation helped raise her incarcerated daughter’s son.

“She can barely afford diapers, we’ve had to help her cover the cost of diapers and essentials,” Knotts said. “One of the things that she really struggles with is the amount of money it costs to talk to her daughter.”

The report for the study is due December 2022. Morrissey hopes the workgroup will help legislators write a bill next year that would better regulate costs, he stated via email. 

Written by Safia Abdulahi, Capital News Service. Photo by Tarazha Jenkins.

Virginia Bill Again Seeks To Limit Solitary Confinement

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A bill that seeks to limit the use of isolated — or solitary — confinement in Virginia’s correctional facilities now faces the Republican-controlled House, who voted down a similar measure earlier in the session.

Sen. Joseph Morrissey, D-Richmond, proposed Senate Bill 108, which passed out of the Senate along partisan lines. Sen. Jill Holtzman Vogel, R-Winchester, serves as co-patron but abstained from voting on the Senate floor. 

“There is unanimous support in the faith community on this issue,” said Kim Bobo, executive director of the Virginia Interfaith Center for Public Policy, which advocates for racial, economic and social justice issues.

Solitary confinement is defined in Virginia as the isolation of an incarcerated person to a cell for at least 22 hours per day. Holding someone longer than 15 days in solitary confinement is considered torture by the United Nations, which prohibits the practice. 

Virginia prisoners can be placed in solitary confinement for a long time, Morrissey said last year. 

No inmate could be held in confinement longer than 15 consecutive days during a 60-day period if the bill passes. When an inmate is held for medical circumstances, a medical practitioner must approve the move. Correctional facility administrators must document why the inmate is placed in confinement. They must also file medical and mental health evaluations and set a plan of action for the inmate outside of confinement. 

The Virginia Interfaith Center for Public Policy wants to limit what it said is the Virginia Department of Corrections’ excessive use of solitary confinement. 

Sen. Joseph Morrissey. File photo via CNS.

DOC stated in a press release last year that it no longer holds people in solitary confinement, often called restrictive housing, because inmates are let out of the cell for at least four hours a day. DOC now refers to solitary confinement as restorative housing. 

DOC reported placing more than 5,000 inmates in restorative housing from mid-2020 to mid-2021. The median length of stay was about 12 days, according to the report. 

Natasha White, coordinator for the Virginia Coalition on Solitary Confinement, said the practice is horrible and there is no way of knowing how long someone is in confinement.

White served four consecutive years in solitary confinement at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility in New York, she said.

“They claim it was for preventive measures, but four years, that is a very long time – to the point where you don’t know what day it is unless you ask somebody,” White said. “You know what day of the week it is by the days you take a bath.” 

Her husband spent 12 years in confinement on gang-related offenses. When he came home he was “really, really damaged.”

“There are literally people who self mutilate, men who have chewed their fingertips off just so they can get to a doctor so you have to take them out of that box,” White said. 

White now dedicates her time toward prison reform and ending solitary confinement in Virginia and federal correctional facilities. White advocated for a similar bill in New York that passed in March 2021. 

DOC’s adaptation of the restorative housing term doesn’t change the situation, White said. 

“It’s verbal gymnastics,” White said. 

The American Civil Liberties Union of Virginia said there is no oversight for the department, and no way to verify if the practice has ended. Numerous people contacted the ACLU of Virginia with complaints of continued use of solitary confinement, the organization reported.

The incarcerated have the opportunity to join the general population on completion of the Step Down program, DOC stated. The program allows inmates at Red Onion and Wallens Ridge state prisons to participate in a journaling series and other therapeutic activities and programs.

Not every inmate has the chance to complete the Step Down program, according to a statement from Sen. Adam Ebbin, D-Alexandria.

Nicholas Reyes, an El Salvador native, was placed in the Step Down program but he could not fill out the required journals because he does not understand English. He was later diagnosed with a serious mental illness after spending 12 years in isolation at Red Onion State Prison. Virginia paid Reyes $115,000 in a 2018 lawsuit settlement, according to the Washington Post.

“If you’re not mentally ill when you enter solitary confinement you certainly could be when you leave,” Ebbin said, just before the Senate voted on the measure. 

Bobo spoke with those who were previously held in confinement. She said it can cause or exacerbate mental health issues.

Morrissey proposed a similar bill in the 2021 session. SB 1301 moved through the Senate floor, but failed to pass the House after DOC estimated it would cost $23 million to implement.

Patrons and partners have worked with DOC over the past year to lower the fiscal cost. In the past fiscal year Virginia spent over $26 million in secure confinement expenses.

DOC is estimated to need $4.8 million in general fund support in fiscal year 2024, and “an indeterminate amount of funding for correctional officers and transport buses” to implement the bill, according to the bill’s impact statement. An estimated $3.3 million in general fund support would be needed for the Department of Juvenile Justice in fiscal year 2024. 

Bobo says this year the bill’s fiscal note is more “modest.” She believes the bill will pass the Republican-controlled House.

The bill has been referred to the House Public Safety subcommittee. 

Written by Tarazha Jenkins, Capital News Service. Top Photo by JobsForFelonsHub, licensed with CC BY 2.0.

Prisoners Criticize VADOC Vaccine Rollout, Coronavirus Response

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Inmates in Virginia correctional centers have been approved to receive COVID vaccines, but a disorganized rollout has led to confusion and a lack of information about when vaccines will actually be coming.

Jillian Floyd hasn’t seen her son in a year. She is one of many Virginia prisoners experiencing the COVID-19 pandemic in Virginia’s correctional institutions, where thousands of incarcerated people have tested positive for the coronavirus since March, and more than 50 who died also tested positive for the disease.

Floyd, a prisoner at Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women in Fluvanna County, said she talks on the phone every day with her 10-year-old child. She said it is difficult for her son not to see her like he did before COVID-19.

“I used to have video visits with my son, and regular in-person visits too,” Floyd said in an email. “I could see how big he was getting.”

Now, without access to video calls and living in the red zone, an area designated for prisoners who test positive for COVID-19, Floyd said she can’t go outside and that she is expected to stay in her cell. She said she tested positive about two weeks ago. Prisoners in red zones may leave their cells to access phones, kiosks, showers, restrooms, nursing stations, food trays and laundry, according to Gregory Carter, a spokesperson for the Virginia Department of Corrections.

More than 11,800 prisoners and 4,700 employees have received a first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine, according to Virginia Secretary of Public Safety and Homeland Security Brian Moran. That accounts for approximately half of the prison population. More than 470 prisoners and 210 employees have received a second dose, Moran said. 

VADOC Vaccinated Population. Data from Virginia Secretary of Public Safety and Homeland Security Brian Moran and Virginia Department of Corrections. Visualization by Andrew Ringle, CNS.

There are 629 active coronavirus cases as of Thursday among on-site incarcerated individuals, three active cases in hospitals, and 132 active cases among employees, according to VADOC. There have been more than 8,800 total positive COVID-19 cases, and more than 50 prisoners have died who tested positive for COVID-19.

Floyd, among others living in Virginia’s prisons, said she doesn’t think she could get the vaccine right now even if she wanted to.

“Some women have already gotten it, but they haven’t told us when we are going to get it,” Floyd said.

Staff are administering two-dose Moderna vaccines, VADOC said in a January news release. The department is offering email stamps, telephone credits, and commissary items that will become available in early March to prisoners who take the vaccine. 

“We want all staff and inmates who want the COVID-19 vaccine to get their inoculations as soon as possible,” Director Harold Clarke said in the release. “This effort is important to all in the VADOC community – our staff, inmates, and the community outside the walls, where our staff and inmates’ families live.”

Floyd said she was moved to the yellow zone, a quarantined area for those who may have been exposed to the virus, “in the middle of a freezing cold rain storm” after her previous roommate tested positive for COVID-19. Floyd said she initially tested negative but felt sick after moving to the yellow zone. She was worried she had the virus but wasn’t tested again for days. 

“When I finally got tested, I tested positive and was moved to the red zone,” Floyd said. “The nice thing about the red zone is they kind of let us pick who we wanted to live with, so I’m with someone I knew already.” 

Floyd said staff removed personal belongings from those moving into the red zone to quarantine the items, but two of her bags were lost in the move. She now sleeps without a pillow under a borrowed blanket and sheet, she said. The state issues linens to prisoners, and they may request replacements, Carter said.

Shannon Ellis, an attorney with the Legal Aid Justice Center, a statewide legal aid and advocacy organization, said Floyd’s experience is consistent with what she’s heard from prisoners across the commonwealth.

“I think it’s fair to say that there has been a lot of chaos within [VADOC] in handling the coronavirus,” Ellis said.

Ellis is a co-leading attorney in long-running litigation against Fluvanna Women’s Correctional Center, she said. Ellis’ duties include counseling incarcerated women living in the facility and evaluating healthcare standards following a settlement agreement under which VADOC would improve Fluvanna’s medical care.

Ellis said her legal partners conduct between 100 and 200 interviews with incarcerated women per year, and she receives around 60 emails and letters every week.

Overview of Fluvanna Correctional Center. Satellite photo from Google Maps.

Fluvanna Women’s Correctional Center has reported more than 630 COVID-19 cases among prisoners, ranking fifth in total positive inmate cases among the commonwealth’s correctional institutions, according to VADOC data. 

“What we’re hearing from our clients at Fluvanna, and what I’m hearing from other advocates that work with other facilities around the state, is that there’s a lot of vaccine hesitancy that’s being caused simply by poor education and counseling ahead of time with the vaccines,” Ellis said.

Women living in Fluvanna have “had to say yes or no” to the COVID-19 vaccine without the opportunity to consult a doctor or a nurse, despite having multiple serious health conditions and medication regimens, Ellis said.

“That’s a big problem,” Ellis said.

Prisoners are able to directly consult with a nurse or a doctor before receiving the vaccine, Carter said.

VADOC follows guidelines from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and communicates with local health districts regarding COVID-19 protocol and vaccine rollout, Moran said.

“We feel it’s going smoothly,” Moran said. “So if there are complaints, then you know, we’ll try to address those. But as of now, I’m being told it’s going fairly well in terms of the delivery of the vaccines.”

The Virginia Department of Health began offering COVID-19 vaccines to people living in state prisons and local jails in January, expanding eligibility for who can get the shot under phase 1b of the commonwealth’s distribution plan. For the public, the phase now includes frontline workers, people aged 65 or older and people living in correctional facilities, homeless shelters, and migrant camps. People aged 16 to 64 years old with an underlying condition were added to phase 1b, though the vaccines aren’t readily available to them yet.

Moran said those in law enforcement, including correctional officers, were a priority in the early days of phase 1b.

“As we went to the prisons to do the correctional officers, it was a matter of operational efficiency … to do all individuals at the facility,” Moran said. “And in recognizing the particularly vulnerable population of those who are in confined spaces, it was determined that we would include inmates for the vaccinations.”

Moran said his office is focused on having an aggressive vaccination and testing program to drive down positive cases in correctional institutions. However, the process is not running smoothly, Ellis said. 

“I think that Brian Moran has heard many complaints from advocates and from family members of incarcerated people across the state,” Ellis said. 

Some cells in the COVID-19 red zone at Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women don’t have call buttons, Ellis said. This prevents women inside the cell from being able to quickly communicate if they are in a crisis.

“For example, if they’re having difficulty breathing,” Ellis said. “The only way to get attention is by shouting and basically banging on your closed locked cell door to try to get the attention of a guard, which, if you’re in a medical crisis, you may not even be able to do.”

Carter said cell intercom systems are not required by the American Correctional Association, the accrediting body for VADOC. Some facilities have cell intercom systems and some do not.

“Security and medical staff make regular rounds to check the inmates’ status and address specific needs,” Carter said in an email.

Carter said department staff provide mental health resources and services to prisoners. He said services vary by location but generally include periodic newsletters from mental health staff; a toll-free number to ask questions, and the opportunity to share concerns and receive information from mental health staff.

“We also provide psychiatric services as needed, and other programs and services as needed,” Carter said. 

VADOC COVID-19 Vaccine First Doses. Data from Virginia Department of Corrections. Visualization by Andrew Ringle, CNS.

The department uses several methods to educate prisoners on the vaccine. This includes recorded interviews with medical and public safety authorities that are shared with staff and prisoners, Carter said.

“Our health services staff has done tremendous work these last few weeks getting shots into arms,” VADOC Director of Communications Lisa Kinney said in an email.

Regarding VADOC’s incentive packs for those who receive the vaccine, Floyd said it doesn’t change her mind about the shot.

“I think I’m going to get it, but I’m not going to base my decision about whether to take it on free stuff,” Floyd said. “If it gets people to take it, that’s great.”

Nicholes Callahan, a prisoner at River North Correctional Center in Grayson County, said he recalls when VADOC offered similar incentives to encourage getting the flu shot in the fall. He said it did not play a part in his decision to get the shot.

“I feel like the incentive pack is a bribe,” Callahan said in an email.

Callahan said he’s unsure if he wants to get vaccinated. He is concerned about the vaccine’s possible side effects.

“Some other inmates have gotten it this week, so now I am going to see if they have any immediate side effects,” Callahan said. 

Callahan said he was moved into quarantine after his cellmate tested positive for the virus. Prior to COVID-19, he said he would spend the entire day out of his cell, with in-person visits and two weekly trips to the gym. Now, he is out of his cell for about three hours a day “if we are lucky,” he said.

“I feel they have done the best they can in River North,” Callahan said. “It would have been nice to not have lost so much rec time in them doing it.”

David Bomber, a prisoner of Nottoway Correctional Center, said he lives in a cell that is about 8 feet tall and 6 feet wide with a sink and a toilet. The cell is designed for one person but he has a cellmate, Bomber said.

“We basically live in a toilet,” Bomber said.

VADOC’s average daily population has decreased from 29,136 in March 2020 to 23,811 in January, Carter said. He did not respond directly to whether one-man cells are used to house more than one prisoner.

Bomber tested positive for COVID-19 in December with about 200 other prisoners, he said. Bomber and roughly 40 other men moved into quarantine in an area that previously served as a restrictive housing unit, Bomber said. These areas are intended to separate prisoners from the general population.

“The conditions were punitive at best,” Bomber said. 

Bomber said he received temperature checks twice daily and only suffered from a headache. He’s now out of quarantine and on modified lockdown, but doesn’t know if he’s eligible to receive the COVID-19 vaccine.

“They’re not putting out no kind of memos; there’s no exchange of information,” Bomber said.

Bomber said he hasn’t heard of incentives for getting the vaccine, but he remembers when he received bags of peanuts and Doritos for getting the flu shot several months ago. 

As Bomber spoke on the phone, someone in the background announced with a megaphone that prisoners could sign up for the COVID-19 vaccine.

“I think if they’re going to offer it, I’m going to go ahead and take it,” Bomber said.

Written by Andrew Ringle, Capital News Service. Top Photo: Fluvanna Correctional Center For Women, via Wikimedia Commons.

Amended Bill to Limit Solitary Confinement Heads to Senate Floor

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David Smith remembers dancing to music in his head and having conversations with television shows during 16 months in solitary confinement at Norfolk City Jail. 

“Your mind plays tricks on you,” Smith said. “There was a slow disconnect with reality. I didn’t recognize the pain that was happening in me, nor did I have the emotional strength to fight back, institutionally.”

Smith is no longer an inmate, but his goal is to end the torture that he said Virginia inmates have endured while sitting in solitary confinement. Smith served a three-year sentence after pleading guilty to 10 counts of possession of child poronography in 2013. Now Smith works with the Virginia Coalition on Solitary Confinement to lead the charge for legislative change.

Sen. Joseph D. Morrissey, D-Richmond, introduced Senate Bill 1301, to prohibit solitary confinement in adult and juvenile correctional facilities. The Senate Appropriations and Finance Committee voted 12-4 Wednesday to advance the bill with amendments.

The amended bill would allow inmates to be held in solitary confinement for 48 consecutive hours, but that can be extended to allow for an investigation to be completed. Isolated, or solitary, confinement is defined in the bill as being confined in a cell alone or with another inmate for more than 20 hours a day for an adult and 17 hours a day for a juvenile.

The Virginia Department of Corrections would still be allowed to use solitary confinement in three circumstances: if an inmate is a threat to themself or others, during a facility-wide lockdown, or for an inmate’s own protection. 

The bill originally proposed that inmates receive medical evaluations within 8 hours of being placed in solitary confinement. The department would need to hire additional registered nurses, physicians, psychologists, psychiatrists, and cognitive counselors to complete the evaluations. 

Without amendments, Morrissey said the fiscal impact report determined the bill would have cost at least $23 million to implement. After consulting with Corrections, Morrissey also eliminated the original requirement that some inmates be offered at least three hours of activities intended to promote personal development. 

There’s nothing currently preventing Corrections from placing inmates in isolated confinement for long periods of time, according to Morrissey.

“Studies show that solitary confinement begins to have debilitating mental and physical effects in as few as 10 days being isolated, and exacerbated for those individuals already suffering from a mental illness,” Morrissey said during the committee meeting. 

Sen. Joseph Morrissey. File photo via VCU-CNS.

The General Assembly passed a bill in 2019 that required the department to release statistics of who is in restrictive housing, the department’s name for solitary confinement. 

Vishal Agraharkar, a senior staff attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Virginia, said thousands of Virginia inmates have been affected by solitary confinement over the last couple of years. 

“In the last couple of years, around 7,000 and 6,500 people have cycled around some form of restrictive housing department wide, which showed a real need for the bill,” Agraharkar said.

Jerry Fitz, corrections operations administrator and legislative liaison for the Virginia Department of Corrections, said during a bill committee hearing that the number of Virginia inmates in solitary confinement decreased by 60 percent from January 2016 to June 2020. 

“That’s roughly 908 individuals less than when the study started in 2016,” Fitz said. 

Agraharkar represented Nicolas Reyes, an inmate who spent more than 12 years in solitary confinement at Red Onion State Prison in Southwest Virginia. The ACLU filed a federal lawsuit on behalf of Reyes that ended in a settlement in January. As a part of the settlement, the department agreed to create a language access policy to ensure those with limited English skills are provided access to facilities, programs and services. 

“In the long run, if you make sure that people are being kept in solitary for as little time as possible and you work toward eliminating it altogether, you’re going to see savings in terms of mental health costs,” Agraharkar said. “Public safety will be helped as well, by making sure we’re not putting people in conditions that are extremely harmful long term to their mental health.”

Agraharkar added that in the first half of 2020 the Virginia Department of Corrections spent over $1 million on just two lawsuits related to solitary confinement that the ACLU of Virginia obtained via a Freedom of Information Act request. He also said it costs two to three times more to construct a prison that’s designed to hold people in solitary confinement than one designed for a general population.

“Solitary confinement has significant cost in addition to all the harm that it does to people that are essentially tortured on the inside,” Agraharkar said.

The bill isn’t the first attempt at banning solitary confinement in the commonwealth. Del. Patrick Hope, D-Arlington, introduced House Bill 795 in 2018, but it was left in a subcommittee. The committee didn’t pass the bill in 2018 because they didn’t think it could be funded after looking at the fiscal impact statement, Agraharkar said.

Morrissey said he thought the bills would make less work for the department and not more.

“Intuitively it would strike me that if we’re eliminating solitary confinement, then we’re eliminating the necessity for DOC corrections officers to monitor the doings of somebody in solitary confinement,” Morrissey said. “I think it would be less work, but that’s just an intuitive analysis.”

Smith said his lawyers told him solitary confinement would be the best alternative for his safety. Then he quickly realized how detrimental it was to his mental and physical health. Smith said he’s read letters from inmates serving time in solitary confinement and they inspire him to push for change.

“I didn’t fight on the inside, so I’m sure as hell going to fight now,” Smith said. “We can’t let them be silent, we’ve got to amplify those voices to show what’s going on.”

The bill heads to the Senate. If passed, the bill would take effect in July 2022.

Written by Noah Fleischman, Capital News Service. Top Photo: Virginia Capitol. VCU CNS photo by Conor Lobb.

In Local and Regional Jails, a Patchwork Response to COVID-19

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State and local efforts to keep COVID out of jails have been hobbled by poor oversight and unambitious policy, advocates say.

At the time the Governor announced his early release plan, Letiesha Gordon’s son, Dayon Jones, was serving the final months of a non-violent felony sentence in Riverside Regional Jail, near Petersburg. As soon as the plan took effect, Gordon began a crusade to secure her son’s release. But when she requested an “Offender Appeal for COVID-19 Early Release” form for her son, she says the counselor she spoke with at Riverside did not even know such a form existed. 

In the months that followed, Gordon called the jail repeatedly; she emailed Mayor Levar Stoney, Governor Ralph Northam, and a senator; she sent several letters. “I know that they thought I was crazy but I was just a mother,” said Gordon, who is the founder of the non-profit A Better Day Than Yesterday, which works with incarcerated people after their release. “I didn’t even contact them on behalf of my organization because it was not about business at that point. It was about my son’s safety.”

After Initial Drop, Decarceration Stalls

This past spring the populations of local and regional jails decreased significantly. From March to April, the total population of Virginia’s jails decreased by 17 percent, and the number of people committed for misdemeanors dropped by 67 percent. However this decline was not enough to keep incarcerated people safe from COVID-19, advocates say, and in recent months the rate of releases has stalled. In October, RCJC’s incarcerated population exceeded 700 for the first time since March, rising from a low of 633 in July. Over half of those incarcerated in RCJC are pre-trial detainees, as of October, meaning they are being held prior to conviction.

“It is irresponsible to say that we’re trying to do the best for the people, but we’re placing them in positions where they could potentially die versus getting their day in court,” said Sheba Williams, who directs the non-profit Nolef Turns and serves on Mayor Stoney’s Task Force on Reimagining Public Safety.

On March 19th, as COVID spread through Virginia communities, Governor Northam declined to use his pardon power to release prisoners. Instead, his office issued guidance to local criminal justice officials suggesting they use sentence modifications, issue summonses when possible, and consider incarceration alternatives. Then a month later, in an April special session, the Virginia legislature gave the Department of Corrections (DOC) the power to release inmates with a record of good behavior and less than a year on their sentence: a category that included around 2,000 of the state’s roughly 30,000 prisoners. These statewide release policies impact local and regional jails because people with felony sentences of under three years, including Leteisha Gordon’s son, are usually held under contract in jails. 

Roughly half of those deemed eligible for release by DOC have been released to date.

Lack of Oversight 

Part of the problem, political consultant Jessica Pishko says, is that state and local officials have very little authority over sheriffs, who run local jails and serve on regional jail boards. Beyond the 8th Amendment’s prohibition against “cruel and unusual punishment” and an antiquated state law designed to prevent extra-judicial hangings, Sheriffs have almost full discretion over how, or if, they address the risk of COVID in their jails, according to Pishko. (Danville’s sheriff, for example, only made masks mandatory for jail employees after reports of a 72-person outbreak at his jail last month.)

Sheriffs also appear to have the final say on what COVID-related information is revealed to the public. According to Dr. Danny Avula, Director of the Richmond City Health District (RCHD), RCHD is not allowed to release information about COVID rates in Henrico jails or RCJC without permission from those jails’ sheriffs. This has concerning implications. If the Department of Health must have a sheriffs’ goodwill to understand and address health risks inside of local jails, health officials can hardly serve as effective watchdogs in cases of disease outbreak. “There’s little accountability, little oversight, there is zero transparency when we’re talking about the public,” said Sheba Williams, describing the COVID situation in Virginia prisons and jails.

According to Yohance Whitaker of Legal Aid Justice Center, even with significantly reduced jail populations, it is difficult to maintain social distancing in facilities like RCJC. Many local and regional jails have enforced weeks-long periods of isolation as a result. “Prisons and jails and detention facilities are known amplifiers of infectious disease,” Whitaker said. “Measures to keep the illness from spreading like social distancing [and] washing your hands on a regular basis are nearly impossible in such confining spaces.”

A number of inmates interviewed by RVA Mag also questioned the efficacy of RCJC’s lockdown measuring, claiming poor sanitation in common spaces allowed for transmission of the virus even without extended person-to-person contact. According to RCJC inmate Emanuel Crawford, his pod is cleaned once a day by incarcerated people who are not given COVID-informed sanitation guidelines. 

“You might have a lazy inmate who just say look, I’m’a clean this and it’ll be alright – and then you just jeopardized everybody,” said Crawford. “In a situation like this, you should be making it mandatory that certain things be sanitized properly. Not only at night, but in the afternoon. Give us the equipment to do this two or three times a day.”

Jail deputies frequently interact with people experiencing medical or mental health crises but, beyond a high-school education, there are no training requirements for Sheriff’s deputies in the State of Virginia. How, or whether, employees are trained is left up to each sheriff’s discretion. This leads to a dynamic, Pishko says, where deputies with minimal training and no social-work experience are given power over vulnerable, often mentally unwell individuals. “I sometimes compare jails to a hospital,” said Pishko. “Picture a hospital where none of the staff want to be there. You have a bunch of sick people, but you have nurses who are like, ‘Whatever.’ ‘I don’t feel good.’ ‘Whatever.’ It gets scary, people die.”

Riverside Regional Jail. Photo via Facebook.

Administrative Harm 

Our legal system has long been stacked against the accused, especially Black and brown people and poor people. But, along with new dangers, the pandemic has also brought new legal and administrative barriers in Richmond-area jails and courts, limiting individuals’ access to counsel and gumming up an already slow legal process, according to Richmond’s head public defender, Tracy Paner. 

In response to the pandemic, the State Supreme Court has suspended defendant’s statutory right to a “speedy trial,” eliminating the five-month maximum waiting period between trials for people facing state charges. (“Everybody awaiting trial is in a holding pattern,” Paner said in October. “There’s no way for the defense to require it to go forward.”) Meanwhile, federal jury trials were suspended back in April. In Richmond they resumed, at a much-reduced rate, in October and November. This means that, if you were incarcerated in RCJC and received a federal charge in April, you could still be behind bars awaiting your day in court. 

During this period, your access to confidential legal counsel might also have been significantly limited. Since “contact visiting” ended in March, Paner says, lawyers generally have two options for speaking with their clients: through a glass wall or by video. But if a client is in two-week quarantine, either because they are COVID-positive or have recently arrived, the jail requires lawyers to use confidential video-conferencing. This presents two problems, according to Paner. First, the video is often poor quality, and sometimes the tablets inmates use do not work at all. Second, the confidential video-conferencing may not actually be confidential.

“I have seen it, other attorneys have seen it,” said Paner. “We are exiting from the visiting area and we can hear the speaker on the deputy’s computer. We can hear another attorney’s conversation with the client. We have had deputies who think they are helping us listening because there’s a time limit on the video meetings.”

Paner said that, though the public defender’s office has been “very proactive” in seeing bond motions for people with pre-existing conditions, it has not had much success. “The judges are saying things like, well, I know somebody who had it and it wasn’t that bad,” she said, referring to COVID. Richmond Circuit Court Judge Bradley B. Cavedo, who blocked the removal of Confederate statues, has referred to the coronavirus in court as “the wuhan flu.”

Cash Bail Is Alive and Well

In 2018, former Commonwealth’s Attorney (CA) Michael Herring announced that prosecutors in Richmond would no longer seek cash bail for defendants awaiting trial. Though the CA’s office also adheres to this policy under Colette McEachin’s leadership, Paner says prosecutors’ actions still perpetuate the cash bail system.

“The attorneys from the commonwealth do not say the word ‘I object’ to releasing someone in the courtroom for low-level felonies,” Paner said. “But what they do is stand there with records and say, ‘In 1992, he was charged with robbery but it was dismissed.’ That means — wasn’t him, didn’t happen, couldn’t prove it. So they would stand there and bring up things, from 20 years ago or more, that weren’t convictions, in an attempt to sway the judges. The letter of the policy might be followed, but certainly not the spirit.”

“Our policy hasn’t changed,” said Commonwealth’s Attorney Colette McEachin when asked about cash bail. “We still don’t seek cash bail in most situations. Generally, the only time we do is if the defendant is a threat to himself or others, or is a flight risk, which are the two bond determinations that are supposed to be made by statute. Ultimately, anything we recommend is up to the judge, and sometimes the judge agrees with us, and sometimes he doesn’t.”

Whether the fault lies with judges and magistrates, prosecutors, or some combination of both, Richmond’s cash bail continues apace. In early September, The Richmond Community Bail Fund identified 98 people in four local facilities incarcerated because they could not afford bail. (These numbers, acquired by raking through inmate databases and entering Freedom of Information Act Requests, are not comprehensive.) The combined cost of the bonds for these individuals was about $450,000, according to Luca Suede, co-director of the Richmond Community Bail Fund. 

“That’s about a hundred people that judges across different counties have already determined could be released,” Suede said. “Now, obviously everybody should be released. I don’t give a fuck how a judge feels. But in the State’s rhetoric — who has the kind of power to do these releases — there is already criteria that’s being deployed.”

Northam’s guidance to Virginia jails stops short of recommending bail be waived or discontinued, however. Instead, it asks jails to “consider ways to decrease the number of low-risk offenders being held without bail.” 

Protesters at Richmond City Justice Center, June 2020. Photo by Kegham Hovsepian, via Facebook.

“They can get over it together”

In May, Leteisha Gordon’s fears for her son’s safety were confirmed when Riverside Regional experienced COVID outbreak: 36 people at Riverside tested positive, including Gordon’s son. (Fortunately, Dayon Jones did not end up experiencing any serious symptoms of COVID-19.) When Gordon learned her son had tested positive and was on lockdown with another COVID-positive inmate, she called the jail to express her concerns. A sergeant, she says, told her: “They can get over it together.”

“This is somebody that’s helpless,” said Gordon. “He’s in jail. He can’t get to any kind of emergency assistance to help himself. And you don’t have his mother there, so for them to tell me that it was really heartbreaking. You have no idea.”

Finally in June, weeks after her son had tested positive for COVID-19, his counselor called him into his office with Gordon on the phone. He gave her son the form to sign and said it would take three weeks to be processed. After weeks emailing, phone calling and letter writing, Gordon had finally succeeded. A form her son should have had access to months ago — a form that, she insists, would have secured his release as a non-violent offender with asthma — had finally materialized. By that time though, it hardly mattered: Gordon’s son was scheduled to be released on July 13, three days later. 

All her effort didn’t save her son a single day in jail.

Top Photo via Riverside Regional Jail

Cruel And Unusual Punishment

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Hoping to protect at-risk youth from coronavirus, youth advocacy organization RISE For Youth is calling for the release of juveniles currently incarcerated in Virginia for non-violent offenses.

During the COVID-19 pandemic the focus for many of us is on the health and financial fortunes of ourselves and our loved ones. But one portion of the population that is being overlooked by many is that of juveniles incarcerated in Virginia. As they find themselves trapped within facilities where the novel coronavirus puts populations “at highest risk for infection,” they face a possible death sentence. Their current situation certainly fits the bill for “cruel and unusual punishment,” and this is why non-partisan youth advocacy organization RISE For Youth are calling for Virginia to release juveniles incarcerated for non-violent offenses within the Commonwealth.

As of April 13, there have been over 1.8 million COVID-19 cases worldwide, and over 115,000 deaths, including 5274 cases and 141 deaths here in Virginia. And despite early understandings of the virus’s effects, recent events have revealed that COVID-19 does not discriminate by age. In several instances, hospitalizations have been required for individuals under 20 with no pre-existing conditions.

RISE for Youth, an nonpartisan campaign committed to dismantling the youth prison model by promoting the creation of community-based alternatives to youth incarceration, are currently advocating for the release of incarcerated juveniles, as well as an end to new admissions to juvenile detention and correction facilities, for the duration of the crisis.

While the Virginia Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ) has implemented COVID-19 safety measures, Valerie Slater, RISE for Youth’s Executive Director, thinks that Virginia DJJ’s plans are not ambitious enough to keep youth safe.

“We need to make sure that they have immediate and consistent access to health care,” said Slater. “We need to start releasing young people so that the numbers are not so high, and are not at risk of becoming infected or infecting others, simply because we’re afraid to let young people out. We can’t operate based on fear.”

At the beginning of this month, the DJJ announced that multiple employees at the Bon Air Juvenile Correctional Center had tested positive for COVID-19. Bon Air Juvenile Correctional Center presently holds 205 juveniles; carriers of COVID-19 are likely to infect two to three others on average. The fact that carriers have a prolonged asymptomatic stage makes it difficult to pin down exactly who may be a carrier.

Despite quarantine measures implemented for those employees, on April 6, DJJ announced that an inmate at the facility also tested positive for COVID-19. The inmate had not been in contact with any of the staff members who’d previously tested positive.

All units were placed on medical isolation after the inmate tested positive; DJJ stated that those who shared the inmate’s unit will be reassigned and the unit itself will be “fully sanitized.” These efforts, along with daily screenings and the requirement that all inmates leaving their units wear masks, were put in place in order to prevent further spread. However, in light of the fact that none of the staff members that tested positive were in contact with the youth who tested positive, Slater believes this will not be the only inmate who has contracted COVID-19.

“Taking a young person’s temperature and asking them a series of questions to determine whether or not they have been exhibiting the symptoms — that’s fine, but it’s not sufficient, especially when you can reduce the numbers,” Slater said.

RISE For Youth Executive Director Valerie Slater. Photo via Facebook

The DJJ first implemented social distancing measures on March 13, including suspension of all visitations, an end to any intermingling of inmates from different housing units, and all large group activities being put on hold indefinitely. These measures are still in effect, and visitation has since been replaced by video conferences and phone calls; families have also been encouraged to send more letters.

However, family members on the outside are aware of the ongoing psychological toll these measures can take on inmates, especially in addition to that of being in a correctional facility in the first place.

“I don’t think like the safest place to get quarantined,” said Sherrod Jenkins, 18, whose brother is currently incarcerated in a Richmond City jail. “They gotta sit in that room and I think it’s gonna mess with their heads.”

RISE for Youth haven’t been in contact with anyone within the DJJ, but they have spoken to judges and prosecutors about their hopes to release the nonviolent offenders.

“We’ve got five commonwealth attorneys who have already signed on, and we’re still working to get more,” said Slater. “There are several legislators who have also signed on to our list of recommendations. So this is something that our leaders in both the legislature and the judicial system are in agreement.”

Releasing these youth is not as simple as opening the doors and letting them out. Many have medical conditions that require ongoing monitoring, as well as educational needs that must be met. Further complicating the situation is the fact that some of the inmates were incarcerated for violent acts. However, RISE For Youth has foreseen these issues and has a working model to use as an example: Albemarle County Jail, where 113 of the 400-plus adults incarcerated at the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak have been released. Of the 113 released so far, only one has re-offended since, and it was for a violation less severe than what he was originally incarcerated for.

“They had the judges on board, they had the prosecutors on board, and the defense attorneys — everyone working in concert to make sure that room was in place for those that needed it,” stated Slater.

RISE For Youth are not advocating for the release of all inmates currently incarcerated in Virginia; they believe those who are still a threat to their community should be given appropriate care within correctional facilities. However, they do have a list of circumstances under which they believe inmates should be released.

“Number one, making sure that we’re looking at the kids that are not posing a threat,” said Slater. “Number two, if need be, that they are released on electronic monitoring. And number three, we need to be considering how we make sure that families are supported.”

New York’s Rikers Island was one of the first in the nation to implement a mass release of around 400 inmates with technical, noncriminal parole violations after an inmate was diagnosed with COVID-19. However, over two weeks after the initial announcement, hundreds remain in limbo, and in the meantime multiple inmates have died of coronavirus.

Coronavirus has also infiltrated adult prisons in Virginia. Currently, 65 staff members and prisoners in Virginia’s prison system have tested positive for COVID-19. Central Virginia Correctional Unit #13 and Virginia Correctional Center for Women both have had small-scale outbreaks, with multiple inmates and some staff testing positive. Five of these offenders are currently hospitalized for their symptoms.

As much as Slater is dissatisfied with the DJJ, she wants to work with them and the rest of the community to minimize the damage COVID-19 will do to Virginia’s youth.

“This isn’t a job for the DJJ to do alone,” said Slater. “This is something that should require the help of every agency in every organization that supports and provides services to young people, to ensure that they are supported appropriately.”

Top Image: Bill Dee, CIYP, via RISE For Youth/Medium