Rita Deanda was incarcerated at California Institution for Women on July 5th when she tested positive for COVID. She was immediately ordered to pack her belongings and moved to a quarantine unit, which she referred to as “COVID jail.” That was where she spent the next 11 days.
The 57-year-old doesn’t know how she got COVID; she was taking precautions, such as wearing her mask and doing her best to socially distance from others. Deanda said that she felt great the day she was tested.
She told the story the week before. Truthout, “I had a migraine from hell and thought my head was going to explode.” She also had a sore throat, which she attributed to lying in front of the fan all night. She lost her appetite. She experienced chills and what she thought were hot flashes during menopause, but now she believes she may have had a COVID-related fever.
California is still one of the few states that regularly tests its incarcerated population. Deanda would not have known that she had COVID if she hadn’t been tested regularly.
Deanda was one of approximately 96 new cases reported by the California Institution for Women in early July. One week later, Deanda was released from prison had 169 active casesCalifornia prisons have found over 1000 new cases among the incarcerated.
The COVID rate has been rising across the United States as people are weary of the ongoing pandemic and have begun to shed masks and other precautions. Behind bars, incarcerated people have also been experiencing pandemic fatigue or, as a woman incarcerated in Pennsylvania calls it, “pandemic hangover.” (As of July 28, Pennsylvania state prisons had 39 active cases. They reported 16,000 cases and died during the pandemic.
“There was a moment when the closed box of carceral data was partially open,” Bennett Stein, project director of the UCLA Law COVID Behind Bars Data Project?, told Truthout. “That small opening should be the floor, not the ceiling of data transparency.”
Transparency is decreasing as more cases are filed. Prisons have been reducing the testing and reporting of their inmates.
Stein pointed out that 17 states, as well as Washington, D.C., no longer report active COVID cases behind bars. Ten of these prison systems no longer report any data on COVID behind bars. Other prison systems continue reporting active cases, but they do not report testing numbers. It is impossible to determine if the low numbers are due to low transmission rates, or the administration of fewer test. Different state corrections departments didn’t respond. Truthout’s queries about COVID and testing.
The current lack of reporting does not only affect those behind bars but also people from outside communities. The Prison Policy Initiative estimates that in 2020, there will be a total of 1.2 million reported cases. prisons and jails contributed to more than half a millionapproximately 13 percent of COVID cases in the country.
“We know that people are still getting quite sick. We know that people are still dying from COVID in the community and in prisons,” said Stein. “When there are outbreaks or high risks of outbreaks, it’s still important that the government, prison officials, judges, district attorneys, and policy makers are considering interventions to keep people safe and save lives.”
“Going Back to the Black Box of Just Not Knowing”
Oklahoma has a statewide average daily of 1,482 new COVID cases. But as of August 2, its state prison system reported only eight new cases — all in the same men’s prison.
That’s a lie, charged Mary Fish, who is currently incarcerated at Mabel Bassett Correctional Center, the state’s largest women’s prison. She said TruthoutIn June, two housing units were placed in quarantine after a sick call by a female prisoner resulted in her being positive. “Bam — locked [in] for about 14 days!” she said. “That was 120 women.” Shortly after, according to Fish, 10 women in a third housing unit tested positive, resulting in that unit being quarantined. But these weren’t reflected on the department’s website. “That [Department of Corrections] website needs serious updating,” she concluded.
“The pandemic created this opening where the public expected to know what was happening behind bars in terms of how many active cases there were, whether people were dying,” said Stein. “We saw that [prisons and jails had] the capacity to collect and publish this data.”
That information allowed policy makers to intervene — demanding more oversight and creating protocols for masking, testing and release.
Two and a half years later, however, Bennett says that he and other researchers are seeing “a rapid regression to the closed off posturing of prison systems. Instead of building off this new capacity to share with the public what’s happening and allow this information to drive policy, instead, we’re going back to this black box of just not knowing.”
Then there’s the question of how much the official numbers — if there are numbers at all — reflect reality. The Bureau of Prisons, which manages federal prisons, states that it tests those who are symptomatic and those who have been in close contact or had to test positive for COVID. This testing policy is applicable to all its prisons, although medical staff may test entire housing units for high transmission rates.
However, at least one federal prison has people who avoid testing to avoid being placed in solitary confinement. While the Bureau of Prisons site lists fewer than one dozen active COVID cases in that particular prison, “Alice” told Truthout, “We do have a new wave of BA.5 COVID racing through, though, and everyone is ill. I’ve had it for the last four days and it’s a bad one — I was basically unable to get out of bed.” (Alice asked that neither she nor the prison be publicly identified for fear of retaliation.)
But, Alice said, “because they send you to the SHU [Special Housing Unit] if you test positive, no one is going to health services.” The SHU is the prison’s solitary confinement unit where people are locked in their cells nearly 24 hours each day. Unlike quarantine — where a person can still telephone their loved ones, listen to the radio, watch television or read a book — the SHU is an extreme form of isolation, typically used for punishment for breaking prison rules. People are restricted from bringing their belongings with them and are often cut off from any human contact.
“Basically [you]For 10-14 days in solitary confinement, you can sit in your room and feel unwell. [over-the-counter medication] or even half-way edible food, and are completely immobilized,” Alice explained. “It’s the same treatment you would receive if you are punished for an infraction. It’s quite miserable and nonsensical.”
Alice is also incarcerated in another unit. A woman fell ill and did not report to work. The housing unit was notified that she was absent and the testing began. Alice said that those who had tested positive were sent to SHU; others were kept at the unit.
People at high risk of severe COVID may be able to access Paxlovid or other antiviral medication outside of prison. However, most people in prison cannot. According to the Bureau of Prisons TruthoutIf you meet FDA criteria, Paxlovid or other COVID-19-approved therapeutics are available to you. Alice doesn’t know anyone in prison who has received these treatments. Instead, Alice said, “We all treat ourselves with tea and honey, Vicks, Tylenol and ibuprofen.”
Alice is often feverish and coughing. However, Alice prefers to pretend that nothing is wrong than risk being imprisoned indefinitely under harsh conditions.
Masking
At the start of the pandemic, jails and prisons began requiring that all people — both staff and incarcerated people — wear masks. While this new policy wasn’t always followed or enforced, many prisons now require that all inmates wear masks.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention will hold a February meeting. announced that counties could lift mask requirementsIf there are no new cases or COVID hospitalizations, it will be considered low. Pennsylvania Gov. Tom Wolf lifted masking requirements for state employees; the state’s Department of Corrections followed suit. It recommended, but did no require, masking when it resumed in person visits.
When vaccinations became available, the Pennsylvania prison system offered incentives — $25 for an initial vaccination and another $25 for a booster. The money, which came from commissary (or the prison’s sole store) purchases, was deposited into the incarcerated person’s commissary account. Now, nearly 86 percent of the state’s prison population is fully vaccinated,With another 1.7 percent who were partially vaccinated.
Pennsylvania prisons also provided separate housing units to accommodate both vaccinated or unvaccinated individuals. However, the prison officials abolished this distinction at the start of April 2022. It also allowed non-vaccinated prisoners to return to programs, work, and religious services that had previously required vaccination.
Social distancing is almost impossible behind bars. “I’d love to stay six feet apart from most people but alas, most people don’t recognize personal space,” said Annie, who is incarcerated at SCI Muncy, the larger of the state’s two women’s prisons. (Annie asked that her full name not be used to protect her family’s privacy.)
“No one, but no one, wants to wear a mask,” said Fish in Oklahoma. “Even the officers were lax going into Pod 5 [under quarantine] with masks and PPE gear.”
Geneva Phillips, incarcerated at Oklahoma’s other women’s prison, told TruthoutEven though they are sleeping, women can still socially connect. “The beds are just barely over three feet apart. I can almost touch my neighbor’s bed with my arm outstretched,” she wrote. Furthermore, she explained, the bunks are separated by a piece of particle board that does not reach the ceiling, “so any cough, sneeze [or] cloud just wafts right on over!”
Alice told Truthout that the federal prison she is in has “plenty of mingling that keeps the virus circulating. After all, we all eat together in the same dining hall.” Meanwhile, she says, “people cough and sneeze and do not wear masks at all, or only the flimsy cotton masks we are given that do nothing to prevent the spread.”
In dormitories that share air vents, women sleep in bunk beds no more than six feet apart.
“It’s no wonder everyone got it — we breathe the same air in close proximity, 24/7,” Alice said.
Some people still wear their masks. Oklahoma has more than 1,400 new cases per day. Fish still wears her mask, even though she claims that few others do.
Others have shared their stories Truthout They find it difficult to continue masking in poorly ventilated prisons, as temperatures soar. Some have also noticed that prison makes it nearly impossible to practice preventative measures such as physical distancing or masking. Many have even contracted COVID.
This includes Ardelle, now in her late 80s and incarcerated at Shakopee, Minnesota’s sole women’s prison. Although she is fully vaccinated and doubly boosted, and never leaves her cell without her mask, Ardelle has twice tested positive for COVID — most recently in May 2021. She was asymptomatic like Deanda and would not have known that she had COVID if she wasn’t tested. “We never seem to get through [testing] without a few positives,” she said.
Ardelle was quarantined both times for 10 days. In June, another woman from her housing unit tested positive. The entire unit was placed in a seven-day quarantine during which they were kept in their cells for 23 hours each night.
Now, Ardelle told Truthout, “[I’m] afraid to toss my mask yet, though we are on green level now.” Green means that people do not need to wear masks. (Ardelle asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her family’s privacy.)
Deanda reports from California that masking requirements have changed following the recent outbreak. She stated that previously, women could remove their masks outside. Both staff and inmates are now required to wear masks at any time, but not all.
Deanda used to wear surgical masks when she left her cell. But, she says, after her bout of COVID and quarantine, “From now on, I’m going to wear the KN95 or N95.”
The California Institution for Women has now issued N95 and KN95 masks. Other systems continue to issue standard surgical masks or thin cloth masks that are less effective against the new variants.
Years wasted and warehoused
Even though prisons are failing to provide adequate testing, reporting data, or treatment, they continue to restrict activities that can be life-saving for those behind bars.
“The restricted COVID schedule persists … severely limit[ing]Time outside, educational and other programming (such a trauma classes, counseling, and drug education, etc.It basically keeps everyone in their units and very bored. For so many people, that’s been the way here for the last 2.5 Years,” Alice said. “These are essentially wasted years.”
She also noted that the lack of programming has prevented people from accruing credits under the First Step Act that would reduce their sentences: “Because the time in classes is so restricted and limited and often canceled, it basically is impossible to complete any programming in any kind of reasonable time frame.”
Staffing shortages have also affected the Bureau of Prisons (as with other prison systems). These shortages have caused frequent lockdowns in Alice’s federal prison. “The result is basically warehousing women and then releasing them without any kind of adequate preparation to face life on the outside,” she said. “It’s … a colossal waste — of resources, money, talent, brains, humanity, dignity — all of it.”
The same is true for many state prisons. “They took a lot away for COVID,” said Annie in Pennsylvania.
Now, the prison has started to return to what passes for normalcy — allowing hugs and food from vending machines during visits and resuming programs.
“It would take a huge mental toll to lose what we have gotten back. I’d rather get sick again than be locked down,” continued Annie, who contracted COVID twice — both times when the prison was locked down. “My whole anxiety with COVID is more about what they’ll do to respond to it than about the virus or infection. I don’t have any confidence that what I do will protect me. There are too many points of contact and too few effective PPE options.”
