Suicide in Solitary: The Life and Death of Armando Cruz (Part 1)

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On September 20, 2011, at 10:55 pm in the Psychiatric Services Unit of California State Prison, Sacramento, a guard was completing his rounds checking on patients in the unit. Locked in solitary confinement, but allowed 10 hours of recreation a week as well as some group activities, prisoners held in these units have been diagnosed with a litany of severe mental health problems. In cell number 104, Armando Cruz, 28, was found facing “toward the opposite side of the door window…[a] rope from his neck to the ceiling…his tongue protruding.” His face was purple and there was no pulse. At 11:35 pm, he was pronounced dead.

On a dozen Post-It notes he scribbled his final words, telling his family he loved them. His final message was “REMEMBER ME!”

 The death of Armando Cruz was the culmination of years suffering from hallucinations, engaging in self-harm and escalating problems. It also exemplifies what can and does happen to people with severe mental health problems when they are locked into the prison system.

Entering the California prison system on February 25, 2003 following three years of legal wrangling, he would spend at least four years in solitary confinement units, including the final year of his life. Housed alone, his hallucinations and delusions would fester as he ruminated in cells no larger than a bathroom to the point where, in the final months of his life, he invented a family that lived with him. For a vulnerable young man with a fear of “being alone in a cell,” the protracted isolation amounted to psychological torture. Ultimately, he became one of 33 California prisoners who would commit suicide in 2011.

In order to understand Armando Cruz’s death, it is important to understand the tumultuous life that he led.

Troubled Youth

Armando Emmanuel Cruz, Jr. was born on April 23, 1983 to Armando and Yolanda Cruz in Fontana, California. He was a relatively quiet child who enjoyed playing sports, participated in karate, and was well liked by his peers. He was a decent student in elementary school.

Says his mother, Yolanda, of her son, “What I want the broken system to know and the State of California is, that Armando…was a sensitive son who worried about the less fortunate and the injustices in our world.

Things began to change when he entered adolescence. When he was thirteen, he began to use marijuana and methamphetamine and engaged in inhalant abuse (“huffing”). He began experimenting with cocaine and LSD and also began to drink alcohol, which he reportedly did to the point of losing consciousness.

In August 1997 at the age of 14, he was arrested for possessing marijuana at school. The following month he was arrested for burglary. He had stolen several thousand dollars worth of tools.

In 1998, he began to exhibit early psychotic symptoms, yelling at his mother that he was feeling forgetful, that he “felt out of place” and that he was “losing his language.”

In January 1998, according to legal documents, he was examined at County Mental Health and diagnosed as suffering from Inhalant Dependency. Two months later,”[Cruz] had a juvenile forensic evaluation and was diagnosed as suffering from a psychotic disorder, probably a hallucinogen induced psychosis, and also suffering from Borderline Intellectual Functioning.”

Though he was placed in various diversionary programs to keep him out of juvenile detention facilities, his problems continued to escalate.

Friends commented that they felt that the various psychiatric drug combinations Cruz was on “made him slower,” “made him seem more dazed” and that “it felt like Cruz was getting farther away.”

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As Washington State Prisons Begin Reforms, 800 Remain in Solitary Confinement

IMU at Stafford Creek Correctional Center, Credit: TONY OVERMAN

IMU at Stafford Creek Correctional Center, Credit: TONY OVERMAN

On January 7th, the Seattle Times reported that “Washington’s prisons are at the forefront of a new approach to solitary confinement, finding that a new focus on rehabilitation may calm some inmates’ behavior in prison and prevent violence once they are back on the street.” The article reports:

[Washingon] began reconsidering solitary after violent clashes in IMU units at Shelton in the mid-1990s. About 400 of the state’s 17,500 inmates are in such units, which also house death-row prisoners and those in protective custody.

University of Washington professor David Lovell studied solitary confinement in the state under a DOC contract, and found the isolated inmates were most often gang members serving long sentences for violent crimes. Up to 45 percent were mentally ill or had traumatic brain injuries.

And once in solitary, they stayed in — for nearly a year, on average — because prison staff were reluctant to send likely violent inmates back into the general population.

Those who were released often returned, after committing new assaults on corrections officers or other inmates.

Most disturbing, Lovell found a quarter of inmates were released to the streets directly from solitary confinement. Unaccustomed to human contact, they were more prone to quickly commit new violence.

Life in the IMU, or Intensive Management Unit, has been described by one man in a letter to Solitary Watch:

You are not allowed meaningful recreation, just an hour of exercise an empty 15 x 12 cell, no church attendance, real library service or educational programming. All of your personal possessions are denied to you. You will remain in your 7×12 cell for 23 of every 24 hours five days a week. Two days a week you will not come out of your cell at all. You will eat all of your meals within a few feet of your toilet. You will be in handcuffs each and every time your cell door is opened for any reason.

The Seattle Times reports that Clallam Bay Corrections Center’s Intensive Transition Program (ITP) is a four-step, nine-month long process with gradually increasing privileges. Inmates participating in the program are allowed time out of their cells for coursework (while chained to desks) and the gym. As of last week, there were thirty participants in the program.

There are, however, some questions and information missing from the story. Using the Seattle Times numbers, Washington DOC holds approximately 400 inmates in solitary confinement out of 17,500 (or, 2.7%). A July 2012 News Tribune article even concluded that this figure indicates that “Isolating prisoners less common in Washington than most places.” This is slightly less than the 3-5% of inmates the average state prison system has in solitary confinement.

However, the 400 figure only counts inmates in Intensive Management Units. According to Chad Lewis from the Washington Department of Corrections: “Today we have approximately 430 offenders on Administrative Segregation Status.  This includes offenders at all custody classification levels.  The reasons for placement/retention include:  Pending investigation, Pre-hearing confinement, Disciplinary Sanctions, Pending transfer.   Administrative Segregation is a short term assessment process, used to identify the appropriate housing assignment for the offender.  Typical length of stay is less than 47 days, exceptions require approval at the Headquarters level.”

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Brandon Green, Chronicler of Solitary Confinement

Utah State Correctional FacilitySince first appearing in an October 16th, 2010 Voices from Solitary post, Utah State Prison, Draper, prisoner Brandon Green has been a consistent and prolific chronicler of “the vortex” that is the supermax Uinta One facility. Over 90 inmates are held in solitary confinement in the facility, where inmates are held in 8×6 cells for up to 24 hours a day. Inmates may be placed in the facility for protection (voluntary and involuntary) or as punishment for rules violations. Most are not allowed phone calls or visitations, and reading materials are restricted. The facility has been described as “a place of pain and terror,” with one inmate commenting ”no wonder there are  so many suicides.”

Brandon Green, 30, born and raised in Utah, has been in and out of prisons, and solitary confinement, for a decade. In 2003, he was arrested for driving a stolen truck. In an essay published on a blog operated by a supporter, he writes of his entrance into the world of solitary confinement: “115 Lbs, sick and coming off a two year crack addiction, you had to fight to stay unmolested and alive. The prison sends you to solitary confinement for fighting.”

For eleven months he served time in prison, much of which was in solitary confinement. His time in isolation would have a profoundly negative effect on him. Writing, ”While in solitary you developed these fears, this hate, this ‘animal-like’ emotion. You learned about needles from a neighbor and psychotropic medications from another neighbor. You start to shoot cocaine and methamphetamine at home. Your mom starts you on medication.  You drive 400 miles, up and back, to Las Vegas every two days to keep your dope supply up and the money supply up by selling.”

Being rearrested, he was incarcerated for 18 months, much of which was in solitary. Sent to a half-way house upon release, due to “the stress after all that solitary” he was rearrested and served two additional months before being released. In 2006, he was turned in by his mother following a resumption of involvement in criminal activity, and was arrested while driving back to Utah from Las Vegas. Upon being arrested, and not wanting ‘to come back to solitary, ” he slipped his handcuffs and reached for the shotgun in the vehicle, prompting a swift response by officers. While in jail he pulled sprinklers to flood his cell, engaged in self-harm, and threw feces. He was forcibly medicated for a month while in a strip cell following a suicide attempt.

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Mentally Ill Utah Prisoner Sentenced to 20 Days in Solitary for Not Moving Cup Fast Enough

Utah State Prison in Draper, Utah currently holds over 91 prisoners in solitary confinement in the Uinta One facility. Prisoners have described the facility as “a place of pain and terror” and a place where inmates “expect tragedy.”

While Utah Department of Corrections admits that the facility on occasion houses prisoners diagnosed as “mentally ill”, they point to the existence of the prisons Olympus Mental Health Forensic Facility.

According to the Utah Department of Corrections website:

Prisons and jails have become primary mental health care providers for mentally ill offenders in the criminal justice system. The mental health services provided by the Utah Department of Corrections is comprehensive and wide-ranging in its scope. Our mission is to provide comprehensive and cost-effective mental health treatment to those offenders who suffer from a serious mental illness.

The Clinical Services Bureau manages a 155-bed stand-alone housing unit for offenders with the most severe mental illnesses. This facility is designated to provide a therapeutic environment that promotes appropriate stabilization and behavioral change.

Solitary Watch has been in contact with an individual in the Olympus facility.  In his late 50s, he has been routinely transferred between Uinta One and Olympus for a decade. His medical documents indicate diagnoses for “Paranoid States (Delusional Disorders)…Other and Unspecified Protein-Calorie Malnutrition…Self-inflicted Injury By Cutting and Piercing Instrument” and other health issues. He reports constant harassment by the guards, who he says, among other things, falsely accused him of rules violations. In support of this, he provided documentation indicating that he was accused of a charge of “Abuse/Misuse Medications” based on “Some Evidence.” He was ultimately found not guilty of the charge, despite not participating in the Disciplinary Hearing.

“When people do wicked things to you and you complain, that isn’t paranoia, it’s circumstance driven. When you refuse to trust those whose conduct does not improve, that’s not paranoia. It’s recognition of active unremitting threat,” the prisoner writes. He reports having been placed in a wheelchair and being “upended onto my face” when the guard pushing the wheelchair “made a typical fast hard turn.” After the incident, he received “No apology from anyone whatsoever…I was told to wait until a nurse came to check on me…back in this cage I sat unmoving. I couldn’t get off the chair and on the ‘bed’…My ears are ringing incessantly…I can’t sleep more than two-hours…My eyes aren’t properly focusing,” he reports.

A month before this, he was found guilty of “Refuse Order” (see image), because he did not “fully and imediatly[sic] comply” with an order to remove an “empty cup and hand from the cuff slider.” When chastised for his behavior, according to the report, he was “disrepectful” to the staff. For this, he was ordered to 20 days in “Punitive Isolation” and assessed a $150 fine.

When asked to provide the policies that guide such punitive measures, Department Spokesman Stephen Gehrke was unaware that such policies are in writing. “I’m not aware whether there is some sort of document or guideline that lists offenses and punishments or repercussions on a case-by-case basis. I believe the response to each incident is specific to the individual details of each circumstance and takes into account aggravating or mitigating factors, which is why the prison employs hearing officers to listen to the offender’s account, review documents, and take into account all other forms of information,” he wrote via email.

“‘This is prison medicine–we don’t care and we don’t have to!’,” the prisoner in Olympus characterizes the approach of the prisons medical officials.

This kind of treatment of people in prison is all too common in the United States. A 2003 Human Rights Watch report estimated that one-third to one-half of individuals in American isolation units were diagnosed with a mental health problem. As of September 2011, one-third of Virginia’s Red Onion State Prison supermax population had a mental health diagnosis. The individual in Olympus is among many in isolation units who attempt suicide while in solitary confinement.  In 2006, it was noted that in California and Texas, suicides in prison disproportionately occurred in solitary confinement units.

Click here to read more of Solitary Watch’s reporting on Utah’s use of solitary confinement.

Profile of an ADX Prisoner: “Just Half Crazy And Trying To Hold On To The Other Half”

J. has been incarcerated for 12 years, the last eight of which have been in solitary confinement. Initially convicted of robbery and sentenced to a five year term as a juvenile, he was returned to prison in Mississippi on a parole violation. He was caught drinking beer at a beach. Admitting that he was “at war with the guards” and engaging in both physical and verbal attacks on guards, he was placed in the infamous Unit 32 at Mississippi State Penitentiary in Parchman.

In 2007, he killed a death row inmate at Unit 32 and was sent to the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility (ADX) facility in Florence, Colorado, where prisoners spend 23-24 hours a day in their cell.

His record at Unit 32 included the stabbing of multiple prison guards. “I admit, I was at war with the guards,” he says. Disrespect, he says prompted the attacks. For these incidents and his frequent verbal berating of guards, he was kept in isolation in the once infamous unit.

One prisoner has described his cell this way,

“The confined space that you are housed in is a 7-by-9 foot sound proof cell that comes with a concrete slab and a thin mattress for a bed, a shower within the cell with a timer to conserve water and prevent flooding, a sink with no taps, just touch buttons…a toilet with a valve that shuts off the water after two flushes automatically for an hour, an immovable concrete desk and concrete stool, a polished steel mirror riveted to the concrete wall and a thirteen inch black and white television encased in plexiglass to prevent tampering.”

J. has spent five years in this bleak environment, except without a television. He has not seen or been able to speak with family for the five years that he has been in the federal supermax.

“We’re poor folk,” he says of his family, “and coming to visit is too expensive…from what I can tell very few people get visits…this place is too far from anyone’s family.”

He is currently looking forward to a visit from his sister next year. “My younger sister has been saving up to come visit me,” he writes.

J. is allowed one hour of exercise in “basically another cell” five days a week. The rest of the time he spends confined in his small cell. He spends his time meditating, reading, and exercising. He says of his self-described “vicious workout routine” as being a consequence of being “just half crazy and trying to hold on to the other half.”

While reading writers such as Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, and Machiavelli, he spends his time in isolation listening to screaming inmates around him. “The crazies,” he calls them.

The food he receives is “very, very small, just enough to stay hungry.” He writes, “When I first came here they fed really good, the last couple years it’s been dropping off, now it is horribly small. It hurts to be so dependent.”

“Solitary effects a persons mind, you can become anti-social or hate filled and murderously angry,” he writes.

He argues that the death penalty is a more humane punishment than solitary confinement.

He describes the psychological torment of his situation:

I hate living in a cage, handcuffed, chained, no contact with family. It hurts the soul. It is a pain my words do no justice. To be treated as if I’m dangerous and need to be caged and chained hurts. And no matter how long I’ve been in this situation or will be, never makes me prefer it. This whole reality is unnatural, but solitary is above and beyond. Humanity escapes this place. Men lose their minds. This whole scene is ugly. Year after year alone in a cage affects the strongest mind. This why I tell you death is more humane. I’d never take my own life, but I’m not at all in fear of death. This, what I’m living in is torture. Believe that. Words do nothing in explaining the truth of it.

J. is unsure of when he’ll ever be able to get back to general population and be able to interact with others. Sentenced to life in prison, he will likely remain in solitary confinement for many more years to come. He is currently awaiting charges for an incident with another ADX inmate, whom he attacked eight months ago.

“I Write, Read, Cry, Sleep and Beg for Death”: Life In Utah’s Supermax

“I write, read, cry, sleep and beg for death.”

That is how fifty-six-year-old inmate J.,  in Utah State Prison, Draper’s Uinta 1 facility describes life in Utah’s isolation units, which houses the state’s death row prisoners in addition to inmates placed there for disciplinary issues.

J. has spent six years in Uinta 1, a place he calls a “place of pain and terror.” Describing his “very ugly” cell as twelve by six feet, he says that with the  protrusions by the “joke bed—concrete slab” and toilet,  he can’t walk. There is “no prospect for either repair nor suitable sanitation.”

J. writes that his biggest struggle in Uinta 1 is the “daily, round the clock victimization.” His experience, a “physical, mental, emotional and spiritual horror.” J. is described by a fellow inmate in Uinta 1 as a “very religious” man, who is “able to sing almost any oldie song beautifully.”

According to one inmate, correctional guards once taunted J., calling him a “worthless piece of shit demon.”

J., an Air Force veteran who dedicated himself to Mormonism following a 1977 suicide attempt, has been in Uinta 1 for over 5 years. “I’ve had no clothing to wear since they stole my sweat pants bottoms in 2005,” he says.

He refuses to file grievances, he says, “because Chapter 13 of Deuteronomy precludes even the suggestion. Because I maintain my honor I am made a unique target. ‘Do what you want to him. He can’t file grievances!’ They laugh, and laugh, and laugh.”

J. has attempted suicide while in Uinta 1, and has been repeatedly moved back and forth between Uinta 1 and the prison’s mental health unit, called Olympus.  His refusal to obey orders from the guards and his psychological state, keeps him perpetually isolated. Sentenced to a term of three years to life in prison on a “conspiracy to commit rape” charge for marrying his teenage daughter to an adult man, he believes that he will spend the rest of his life in prison. And for him, that likely means a lifetime in solitary confinement.

Uinta 1 is divided into 8 sections, each with 12 cells. As of this writing, there are 90 inmates in isolation. The unit is always at or near it’s 96-inmate capacity. According to the Department of Corrections, “the period of time any one inmate remains on admin segregation or disciplinary segregation varies drastically based on their individual case.”

The Corrections spokesman went on to state that “the minimum an offender would have the opportunity to come out of his cell is approximately 3 hours per week.”

In addition, “those housed on admin segregation and disciplinary segregation are seen periodically by housing and security officials as well as their caseworker for a discussion about their current status and to determine whether that classification needs to continue or can be lifted based on their progress.”

A Government Records Access and Management Act information request yielded a letter claiming that the Utah DOC does not maintain records pertaining to how many inmates are classified as segregated, nor anything pertaining to costs.

At Uinta 1, however, the reports from inmates are consistently bleak.

Inmate S. has spent over seven years in isolation, and has written that “like dogs in a kennel we are isolated and kept in individual cells twenty-four hours a day, fed half-rotten food and subject to every kind of psychological, social, verbal dehumanization known to man.”

S. has been held in isolation for his protection due to his status as a sex offender. However, he believes that his time in Uinta 1 amounts to torture. “When you are subject to dehumanization of any kind it is a form of torture. Torture is a criminal activity. It doesn’t matter whether the victim is a convict, civilian or cop. Torture is unacceptable. If you felt that my crime was irredeemable, society, you should’ve just executed me. Keeping me in here like this, you might as well have.”

Among the other Uinta 1 inmates is 76-year old D., who has been in Uinta 1 since 2001 following a disciplinary write-up. He reports he spends his time in his 6×12 cell working out “every other day in the hope that I may be able to live until 2060, at which time the U.S. is supposed to have a new plane that makes no noise and can fly real low to the ground and is shaped like a cigar, with no wings.”

D. has been reported by another inmate to throw things around his cell and groan; he is often frustrated by body cramps.

In correspondences with Solitary Watch, he would meticulously copy the indexes of books and count every line he had written something on.

The conditions of Utah’s Uinta 1 facility have received little attention over the years. Recently, the Salt Lake City magazine City Weekly featured a Cover Story on the isolation of inmates with mental health issues in Uinta 1. As happened with Solitary Watch’s official records requests, the Utah DOC claimed not to have access to information regarding the prevalence of mental health issues in Uinta 1.

Solitary Watch will continue to report on the situation in Uinta 1.

“Waiting For The World To Give Us A Reason To Live”: Solitary Confinement in Utah

Utah State Prison’s Uinta 1 facility serves as the prison’s super-maximum security unit, where inmates are held in solitary confinement. Inmates in Uinta 1 may be there for disciplinary infractions, notoriety reasons, protective custody, or because they are security/escape risks. The unit is divided into eight sections with twelve inmates in each section, for a total of 96 maximum inmates. Currently, there are 90 inmates in Uinta 1. The Utah Department of Corrections, in response to a government records request by Solitary Watch, claims it has no records regarding its use of segregation.

Several inmates have recently written Solitary Watch about the conditions in Uinta 1.

L., who has been in Uinta 1 for five months and previously served 28 months there, reports that he is only able to leave his cell three days a week, for a shower and 1 hour alone in a concrete yard. He reports that, in being transported to a 15 minute shower, “we have to wear a spit mask over our faces and handcuffed from behind with a dog leash hooked to us.”

“The rest of the time except on the shower days we are locked down in our cells with the door window closed so you can’t see out,” he writes.

A., who has been in Uinta 1 for a year, adds that, “just the other day, the [Correctional Officers] came and shook our cells down and took away all of our hygiene. They took away shampoo, lotion, conditioner, everything…they also don’t give us anything to clean our cells with.”

A. is in Uinta 1 for his own protection, following what he says was a decision to leave gang life after much “self-study.” Despite this, he says, he is treated as if he committed a  serious offense.

Inmate Brandon Green, who has frequently written on the conditions of Uinta 1, describes the environment in Uinta 1 as reinforcing a vicious cycle in which inmates placed in solitary usually end up back not long after they are released. Green, who has been in Uinta 1 for five years, previously served 18 months in Uinta 1 before a brief period on parole before returning to Utah State Prison. He has been held in Uinta 1 following an escape attempt and refusal to take psychiatric drugs, which he says will only harm his health.

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Corcoran State Prison Inmate Commits Suicide in Solitary

Solitary Watch has recently confirmed that on August 28th,  prisoner Armando Morales (CDCR number-P80673) committed suicide by hanging in his cell at California State Prison, Corcoran. The Kings County Coroner’s office confirmed that Mr. Morales was found unresponsive at 4:41 PM in his cell by prison staff. He was found on his cell floor with a shoelace and a blue blanket wrapped around his neck. Morales was being housed alone in his cell.

According to a pen-pal ad posted when he was 23, Morales, a Watts, California native, had been incarcerated since he was 16 years old. The post also indicates that he was being held in the Security Housing Unit (SHU) as of six years ago. His admission date at Corcoran is listed as 06/01/2000. Inmates in the SHU are generally housed in solitary confinement for periods of time ranging from 22 1/2 to 24 hours a day. Cells are generally no bigger than 8×10 feet.

According to the reports of Special Master to the US District Court for the Eastern District of California, between 2006 and 2010 suicides in the California prison system averaged 34 per year. Approximately 42% were committed by inmates in the SHU or ASU (Administrative Segregation Unit).

According to California Prison Focus, Mr. Morales was being held in the 4B facility, which houses hundreds of validated gang members in solitary confinement, at the time of his death.

The Corcoran State Prison Public Information Office confirmed that Mr. Morales was being held in the Security Housing Unit at the time of his death, though no other information was made available.

In a letter to California Prison Focus, an inmate housed in the same unit as Morales reported that Morales was being pressured to debrief at the time of Morales’ suicide by Institutional Gang Investigators (IGIs). Debriefing is a process in which inmates inform against their gang, and are transitioning out of the prison gang they belong to. For inmates in the SHU, it is one of the only ways they can be released from the SHU, aside from maxing out of their original sentence. The decision to debrief can be particularly stressful, as leaving prison gangs can result in becoming a target for retribution.

Corcoran State Prison houses 1,426 inmates in the SHU or Protective Housing Unit, the latter of which houses inmates who are in the process of debriefing.

Solitary Watch will provide updates as more information becomes available. Anyone with information about Mr. Morales, particularly his family, can contact the writer at: sal_solitaryw@yahoo.com.

California Inmates Launch New Hunger Strike on October 10th

On October 10th, inmates at Pelican Bay State Prison and California Correctional Institution in Tehachapi launched a hunger strike. The hunger strike, which has in total involved five hundred inmates, coincided with the date of an announced racial cease-fire issued by inmates in Pelican Bay referred to as the PBSP-SHU Short Corridor Collective. The group, which consists of several inmates who are said by the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation to be leaders of criminal prison gangs including the Aryan Brotherhood and Black Guerilla Family, issued a call for all inmates to cease racial conflict and urged unity among inmates across California.

It has been speculated that because this same group also lead the historic hunger strikes that took place last year, inmates misinterpreted the October 10th date to launch a hunger strike.

Yesterday, the Los Angeles Times reported:

Inmates on a six-day hunger strike at the state prison near Tehachapi are raising objections over new state policies on how gang members are identified and treated, state officials say.

Corrections spokeswoman Terry Thornton said those policies have yet to be implemented and are under review by the state Office of Administrative Law.

As of Monday, 161 inmates within segregated cell blocks at the California Correctional Institution, called the Security Housing Unit, continued to refuse meals, Thornton said. The fasting began on Wednesday with nearly 300 inmates at Tehachapi, as well as another 200 inmates in the general prison population at Pelican Bay State Prison hundreds of miles away. Pelican Bay inmates resumed eating by Friday, Thornton said.

Family members of SHU inmates at Tehachapi told the Los Angeles Times they were unaware of the protest. Unlike a larger statewide hunger strike last year, Thornton said corrections officials had no warning and little information about the underlying issues of this strike. Some hunger strikers have complained about prison food and property rules, while others are raising complaints about proposed gang control policies.

Today, a letter signed by the Short Corridor Collective and issued to California Governor Jerry Brown declared their opposition to proposed CDCR reforms of the SHU and “‘status’-based, indefinite isolation,” a reference to the fact that the majority of inmates in the SHU are there for alleged involvement in prison gangs. The letter, which can be read here, does not reference any current hunger strike action.

If anyone has more information about the circumstances of this hunger strike please contact the author at: Sal_SolitaryW@yahoo.com.

Amnesty International Releases Report Condemning California Prison Isolation Units

On Thursday, September 27, Amnesty International published its report on the conditions of California’s supermax units, entitled The Edge of Endurance: Conditions in California’s Security Housing Units. The Security Housing Units (SHUs), which currently house over 3,000 inmates in predominantly single-cell isolation, hold inmates in small cells for at least 22 1/2 hours every day. The report notes that hundreds of inmates will spend over 10 years in these isolation units, where they are prohibited from participating in group activities including religious and rehabilitative programs. The report primarily focuses on the SHUs at Pelican Bay State Prison and California State Prison, Corcoran, though it also touches on the use of the SHU in women’s prisons.

The report covers the conditions of the standard SHU units, the long-term effects of isolation, the criterion used for SHU placement, mental health treatment, and offers recommendations.

The report also cites the October 24, 2011, suicide of Pelican Bay inmate Alex Machado, who was being housed in Pelican Bay’s Administrative Segregation Unit, an isolation unit that often serves as an overflow of the SHU pending SHU cell openings. Machado was put in the ASU despite exhibiting psychotic symptoms and previously attempting suicide. According to the report, between 2006 and 2010, 42 percent of California prison suicides occurred inside one of the many isolation units.

Among the recommendations are:

  • Limiting the use of isolation in a SHU or similar environment so that is it imposed only as a last resort in the case of prisoners whose behaviour constitutes a severe and ongoing threat to the safety of others or the security of the institution.
  • Improving conditions for all prisoners held in SHUs, including better exercise provision and an opportunity for more human contact for prisoners, even at the most restrictive custody levels.
  •  Allowing SHU prisoners to make regular phone calls to their families.
  •  Reducing the length of the Step Down Program and providing meaningful access to programs where prisoners have an opportunity for some group contact and interaction with others at an earlier stage.
  • Immediately removing from isolation of prisoners who have already spent years in the SHU under an indeterminate assignment.

The full 68-page report can be read here.

Solitary Watch’s extensive coverage of solitary confinement in California, including the voices of prisoners in isolation, can be accessed here.