Marie Levin cannot wait to give her older brother a hug and a high-five for the first time in more than 31 years. Roughly three decades ago, the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) deemed Ronnie Dewberry (who goes by the name Sitawa Nantambu Jamaa) to be a member of the Black Guerrilla Family gang and put him in solitary confinement in one of the state's security housing units, or SHUs. Since then, Levin has visited her brother in the Corcoran, Tehachapi, and Pelican Bay prisons, always speaking to him through a thick glass window.
"He's been behind the window for a long time," shesays.
At the end of every visit, Levin watches herbrother put in shackles to be led back to his cell, where he will spend atleast 22 and a half hours alone each day. "Iremember the first time I saw him behind the glass, when I saw him with chainsaround his waist, his legs, and his ankles," Levin recalls. "It was hard for meto watch."
So Levin and Jamaa went to work. The brother and sister have been atthe forefront of the fight against solitary confinement that is gainingtraction across the country. Levin is an activist with the group California Families Against Solitary Confinement, and Jamaa was one of the named plaintiffs in Ashker v Brown, the successful class-action lawsuit poised to reduce the use ofsolitary in the state.
Jamaa is slated to come out from "behind the window" soon,Levin says. She expects her brother to be transferred from the Tehachapi SHU tothe general population at Salinas Valley State Prison, not far from her East Oaklandhome.
The profound changes taking place for Levin andDewberry are not exceptional; times are changing when it comes to solitary confinement in America. Though some advocates have been working for decades to reduce the brutal practice, a series of events thispast summer have brought the urgency of the matter into sharp relief.
In June, 22-year-old Kalief Browder, who spent three years without trial at New York City's Rikers Island jailand about two of those years insolitarycommitted suicide at his home in the Bronx. Later that month, SupremeCourt Justice Anthony Kennedy lamented the "human toll" of solitary confinement,and referred specifically to Browder in an official opinion. In a July speech to theNAACP conference, President Obama announced that he had requested aDepartment of Justice (DOJ) investigation into the overuse of solitary.
In August, the Association of StateCorrectional Administratorsnot exactly a soft-on-crime organizationreleased areport in conjunction with Yale LawSchool acknowledging that "prolonged isolation of individuals in jails and prisonsis a grave problem drawing national attention and concern." Even the administration at Rikers Island claims to be on board. A spokesperson there recentlydescribed the New York City jail as "leading the nation in safely reducingsolitary confinement," pointing out that "punitive segregation" for 16- and 17-year-oldswas ended in December of last year and that there are plans to further reducethe segregated population are on the horizon.
"I think we've reached a tipping point in theUnited States in our criminal justice system broadly, but also specificallyaround the practice of solitary confinement," says Amy Fettig, Senior StaffCounsel for the ACLU's National Prison Project and director of its StopSolitary campaign. "We have prisoners' rights advocates, ex-prisoners, familiesof prisoners, civil rights advocates, judges, lawyers, and correctionsofficials themselves saying we overuse and abuse solitary confinement and wehave to do things differently. Rarely in American life do we see so manydisparate actors coming together and reaching the same conclusion."
Now that solitary is on the national radar,systemic problems with "the hole" are being laid bare for all to see. Here's a breakdown of how it went completely off the rails in the first place.
Solitaryconfinement meets most definitions of torture
States don't use the term"solitary confinement" (the Rikers spokesperson quoted above is a surprisingdeparture). The long list of official terms"administrativesegregation," "security housing," "close management," to name just a fewvaries bystate and situation. Semantics aside, this is what solitary typically looks like: For 22 to 24hours a day, inmates are isolated in six-foot-by-nine-foot cells that may not havewindows, where the lights often never turn off, and where the din of voices and TV rarely quiets. Many cells have solid doors with asmall opening for meal trays rather than bars. For those fortunate enough tohave family able to visit, contact is prohibited. Like Marie Levin's conversationswith her brother, visits are generally conducted through thick plexiglass windows, often using a telephone.
Juan E. Mndez, UN Special Rapporteur ontorture, has stated that detention in solitaryover 15 days should be strictly prohibited. As of 2014, Amnesty International USAreported that the average stay insolitary confinement is 8.2 years. "Considering the severe mental pain orsuffering solitary confinement may cause, it can amount to torture or cruel,inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment," Mndez told the UN GeneralAssembly in 2011.
Among the many experts who have spoken outagainst solitary is social psychologist Craig Haney, who testified last year before theCalifornia State Senate that long-term isolation results in "social death."
"These are people consigned to living insuspended animation, not really part of this world, not really removed from it,and not really part of any other world that is tangibly and fully human," hetold lawmakers.
TerryKupers, a forensic psychiatrist and prison mental health expert, remarked in a report on solitary conditions at Eastern MississippiCorrectional Facility last year, "It has been known for as long as solitary confinementhas been practiced that human beings suffer a great deal of pain and mental deteriorationwhen they remain in solitary confinement for a significant length of time." Hecited In re Medley, an 1890 US Supreme Court case finding that prisoners in prolongedisolation who did not commit suicide were generally unable to function insociety upon release.
Are there 80,000 men and women in state and federal prison who pose such a risk to the safety of others that they must be segregated from the general population?
Solitary confinement is not reserved for the "worst of the worst"
Although data on solitary confinement is limited, current estimates put thenumber of US prisoners in official administrative segregation between 80,000 and 100,000.That includes only federal and state prisoners, and doesn't account use of solitary in local jails,immigration detention centers,or juvenile facilities.
Are there 80,000 men and women in state andfederal prison who pose such a risk to the safety of others that they must besegregated from the general population? That depends how you define "risk." TyrrellMuhammad, who served close to 27 years in the New York State prison system, claimsthat he received several months in "the box" at different times throughout hissentence for, among other offenses, possessing more than his allotted number ofsocks, an extra blanket, more than ten books, and refusing a haircut due to hisRastafarian religious beliefs. The New York State Department of Correctionsdisputes Muhammad's version of events, but the ACLU's Amy Fettig says thatMuhammad's claims are consistent with those she's heard fromother New York prisoners. As Fettig put it, "I have frequently heard from prisoners that theofficial version of events in prison paperwork is not actually what happens onthe ground. And prisoners have virtually no control over what staff documentor fail to document."
Other examples of sentences in solitary forbehavior one would struggle to define as dangerous: A South Carolina inmate got37.5 years for posting on Facebook. PiperKerman, author of Orange is the New Blackand a former federal prison inmate, testified before the Senate JudiciaryCommittee that she saw inmates sent to solitary for having extra underwear,having "small amounts of cash," or simply because a bed wasn't available forthem in the general population.
Illustrations by Valentine Gallardo
Solitaryconfinement actually makes us less safe
A 2014 paper by legal scholar Shira E. Gordon found that not onlyhas solitary confinement not served its purpose in protecting guards and otherinmates from violent prisoners, but there is evidence that solitary confinementmay actually increase prison violence. And an increase in prison violence "comeshome with prisoners after they are released and with corrections officers atthe end of each day's shift. When people live and work in facilities that areunsafe, unhealthy, unproductive, or inhumane, they carry the effects home withthem," according to the Commission on Safety and Abuse in America's Prisons.
What do those effects look like? In 2013, Tom Clements, executivedirector of Colorado prisonsand, in a bit of tragic irony, himself an advocate for reform ofsolitary confinementwas shot and killed in front of his home by a recent parolee who hadspent years in solitary. That same year, a man named Nikko Jenkins, who spent two years in solitary in Nebraska prisons andwas released directly from segregation without any "step-down" measures, murdered four people soon after his release.
Those events were spectacular and received plenty ofmedia attention. Less visible is the toll on corrections officials' mental health taken by working day in and day out in a culture of physicaland emotional violence. A Wayne State University study from 1997 found that the suiciderate for corrections officers is 39 percent higher than in any other profession.Recent numbers indicate that little has changed: a 2013 study from the US Department of Justice Office ofJustice Programs Diagnostic Center found a greatly elevated risk of suicide forcorrections officers, and noted their average life expectancy of less than 59 years old.A New Jersey State Police Task Force study in 2009 found that corrections officers' suicide ratewas twice as high as that of the general population.
Watch the VICE HBO documentary on America's incarceration system, featuring President Barack Obama's first-ever visit to a federal prison:
Solitary confinement punishesinmates' family members and the mentally ill
About one-third of solitary inmates suffer from mental illness. Inhis Eastern Mississippi Correctional Facility report, Terry Kupers noted that "isolated confinement is likely to causepsychiatric symptoms such as severe anxiety, depression and aggression inrelatively healthy prisoners, and cause psychotic breakdowns, severe affectivedisorders and suicide crises in prisoners who have histories of serious mentalillness or are prone to mental illness."
NikkoAlbanese is a 23-year-old inmate at Union Correctional Institution in Raiford,Florida. He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at age ten, according to his mother,Heather Chapman. When he turned 18, Albanese's Social Security disability checksstopped coming, and he was unable to complete his own paperwork to apply as an adult (Chapman handled the paperwork when Albanese was a kid). Themedications for his bipolar condition were expensive. Unable to afford themwithout his disability checks, Albanese began self-medicating with Oxycodoneanexpensive habit in its own right. In 2011, when Albanese was 19, he held up aPizza Hut in Boca Raton with a gun and got a sentence of ten years inprison.
Right away, Albanese begandeteriorating. Chapman said he's been in various forms of solitary for nearly the entireduration of his time in prison, and "they removed the visitsimmediately." After a while, Chapman stopped receiving letters fromAlbanese, and she "knew that things were notgoing well."
Afterenlisting the help of the National Alliance on Mental Illness' Ron Honberg and makingrepeated calls and written pleas to politicians, Chapman received a call fromAlbanese's doctor: He was in a "catatonic state, laying in some prisoncrisis unit being fed medicine through an IV, and they wouldn't tell meanything until Ron called them," she recalled.
"The state of Florida is not just punishing Nikko," Chapman said. "They're killing my family. They're killing my son. They're killing me."
A spokesman for the Florida Department ofCorrections wouldn't comment on Albanese's medical state, citing federal andstate privacy laws, but did say in an email that Albanese's currentstatus is "Close Management II," the medium level of restrictive cell housing. The spokesman added, "All inmates, including those housed in confinement areas,have appropriate access to necessary mental health care. A comprehensiveand systematic course of action for identifying inmates who are suffering frommental disorder is maintained."
In early2015, Chapman was allowed to resume weekly visits to her son, and she says hehas shown huge improvements since their visits began. Before he saw his mother,Albanese hadn't spoken in two years and had lost 40 pounds. Now, she says, heis functional enough to make eye contact with her and can converse with othermen in cells near him. But she can't always afford the $250 in gas and tollsthe seven-hour trip costs her. She has two younger children, both girls, whoneed her help getting to school, and leaving them to fend for themselves issometimes untenable.
"Thestate of Florida is not just punishing Nikko," Chapman said. "They're killingmy family. They're killing my son. They're killing me. And they're reallyhurting my daughters. And when he does get out of prison, then what? The damageis done. You can't undo this type of torture."
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