Federal Judge Criticizes Supermax Confinement in Colorado

Last week we wrote about a trial beginning in Federal District Court in Denver, in which Troy Anderson, a prisoner with mental illness, is challenging his twelve years of solitary confinement at the Colorado State Penitentiary. The lawsuit, filed by student lawyers at the University of Denver Law School’s Civil Right Clinic, could have broad significance because it argues that the long-term isolation of mentally ill prisoners as it is practiced at CSP violates the Americans with Disabilities Act, as well as the Constitution’s guarantee of due process and its ban on cruel and unusual punishment.

The always excellent Alan Prendergast, who writes for Denver’s Westword and has been following Troy Anderson and his lawsuit for years, is covering the trial, and yesterday provided a detailed report on what seems to shaping up as a promising case for the plaintiffs–and for all opponents of long-term solitary.

After nearly five days of testimony in a lawsuit brought by Troy Anderson, a prisoner who’s been in solitary confinement for twelve years, a Denver federal judge was strongly urging Colorado Department of Corrections officials to fix the harshest conditions at the state’s supermax prison — before he has to do it for them. “It shouldn’t take a federal judge to write an opinion and embarrass the department in the public eye to get this accomplished,” U.S. District Brooke Jackson said.

Jackson’s remarks, suggesting that there might have to be some drastic changes in the way the Colorado State Penitentiary operates, came midway through testimony in the case brought by Anderson, a state inmate serving what amounts to a life sentence for charges from two shootouts with police in the late 1990s. Anderson, who’s been diagnosed with mental illnesses ranging from ADHD to “intermittent explosive disorder,” has been confined at CSP since 2000 — deprived of direct sunlight or outdoor recreation, books (he’s allowed two a year), and, he claims, the medications that might actually help him control his behavior, reduce his sentence and get him placed back int the general prison population…

Anderson’s attorneys contend that the supermax fails to provide adequate treatment for mentally ill inmates — who, deprived of medication, exercise and socialization, deteriorate in solitary confinement. Inmates can also receive negative write-ups, or “chrons,” from guards that help keep them in segregation, even though they have no opportunity to contest the information.

The article–which needs to be read in full–reports on testimony by other CSP prisoners–delivered remotely by video–and by former CSP warden Susan Jones, who insisted that Anderson was where he belonged, .

Breaking into an unusual colloquy with Jones when she was on the stand, Jackson said he was troubled by the lack of meaningful administrative review and the absence of due process in the use of negative “chrons” to keep inmates in solitary for years. “It doesn’t seem fair to me,” he declared. And some of the other conditions described by inmates, if true, were clearly “inhumane” in his view.

The trial is expected to end next week, but it may be several weeks before the judge hands down his ruling. You can follow Alan Prendergast’s reporting here.

Solitary Confinement on Trial in Colorado

Our latest piece over at Mother Jones concerns an important trial beginning today in Federal District Court in Denver, in which a prisoner with mental illness is challenging more than a decade in solitary confinement in the Colorado State Penitentiary. Also included is background on the groundbreaking work of the University of Denver’s Civil Rights Clinic; on the use of solitary confinement to warehouse the mentally ill; and on recent challenges to solitary in the state of Colorado. What follows is the beginning of the article; you can read the full piece on MotherJones.com.

Troy Anderson lives in Cañon City, a high desert town in a dramatic setting at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. But for more than a decade he has neither seen those mountains nor felt the sun on his skin. He spends 23 hours out of each day confined to an 8 x 12 isolation cell at the Colorado State Penitentiary (CSP)—one of the state’s supermax prisons—and the remaining hour in a bare exercise room. Well over half of his 42 years have been spent behind bars, most of them in what prison authorities euphemistically call “administrative segregation.” In practice, this means Anderson will remain in solitary confinement until prison officials feel it’s time to let him out.

Anderson has been in and out of jail since he was a juvenile on account of his erratic and sometimes violent behavior. In 2000, he was sentenced to 75 years for myriad charges stemming from two incidents in which he shot at police, the second time in an attempt to escape custody. Offenses committed in prison have landed him in “ad seg” at CSP. (His last disciplinary infraction was in 2005, when he was written up for somehow managing to get envelopes to another prisoner.)

But there’s more to the story. Anderson, like hundreds of other prisoners confined in isolation in Colorado—and thousands held in solitary across the nation—is seriously mentally ill. His diagnoses include bipolar disorder, intermittent explosive disorder, cognitive disorders, and a seizure disorder. He has attempted suicide many times, starting at age 10. He is seen periodically by prison psychiatrists, all of whom seem to concur that he needs therapy and medication. At CSP, however, his treatment has consisted of a fiasco of intermittent and inappropriate meds and scant therapy, typically conducted through a slot in his solid steel cell door.

Yet unlike most of those other prisoners languishing in solitary, Anderson is about to get his day in federal court. Beginning today, in a trial that could have broad implications for how states handle inmates with mental illness, Anderson’s lawyers will argue before the District Court in Denver that their client’s predicament violates his civil rights, under both the Constitution and federal law.

It was his untreated mental illness that first landed him at CSP, Anderson contends, and now the same symptoms are keeping him there indefinitely. Without proper treatment, he is unable to convince corrections officials that he’s fit for the general prison population. This Catch-22, his lawyers say, condemns him to an effective life sentence under conditions that are increasingly being denounced as a form of torture—particularly when applied to mentally ill prisoners.

Read the rest here.

New Study: Solitary Confinement Overused in Colorado

new report on solitary confinement in Colorado’s state prisons concluded that there are far too many inmates in round-the-clock lockdown. A series of relatively modest changes in its classification, review, and mental health treatment practices would “significantly reduce” the number of prisoners in administrative segregation, the report found. The report was funded by the National Institute of Corrections, and its authors, James Austin and Emmitt Sparkman, were involved in the dramatic reduction of solitary confinement in Mississippi’s prisons.

Alan Prendergast, who has spent more than a decade reporting on Colorado prisons for Denver’s weekly Westword, reviewed the report and provided the following summary:

A study by researchers at the National Institute of Corrections has found that Colorado’s approach to locking down its most unruly prisoners in 23-hour-a-day isolation is “basically sound” — but could be used a lot less. Instead, even as the state’s prison population is declining slightly, the use of “administrative segregation,” or solitary confinement, continues to increase.

The Colorado Department of Corrections houses close to 1,500 prisoners in “ad-seg,” about 7 percent of the entire state prison population. That’s significantly above the national average of 2 percent or less — and if you factor in the additional 670 prisoners who are in “punitive segregation” as a result of disciplinary actions, the CDOC figure is closer to 10 percent. And four out of ten of the prisoners in solitary have a diagnosed mental illness, roughly double the proportion in 1999. The state’s heavy reliance on ad-seg, including building a second supermax prison to house the overload, has put Colorado in the center of a growing national controversy over whether isolating prisoners creates more problems in the long run.

NIC researchers James Austin and Emmitt Sparkman were invited by DOC to prepare an external review of its ad-seg policies and classification system. Among other points, the pair found that the decision to send prisoners to lockdown has little review by headquarters; that “there is considerable confusion in the operational memorandums and regulations on how the administrative segregation units are to function;” that the average length of stay in isolation is about two years; and that 40 percent of the ad-seg prisoners are released directly to the community from lockdown, with no time spent in general population first.

Austin and Sparkman urge the DOC to require a mental health review before a prisoner is placed in ad-seg and to simplify the programs and phases inmates are required to complete before returning to a less restrictive prison. Even modest administrative changes would “significantly reduce” the state’s lockdown population, they claim, freeing up cells for other uses and saving the state money, since supermax prisons are more costly to operate than lower-security facilities.

For more on solitary confinement in Colorado, read our article Fortresses of Solitude.

Voices from Solitary: Colorado Department of Corrections in Need of Correction

For seven years, Clair L. Beazer has been an inmate in the supermax Colorado State Penitentiary in Cañon City–which, as we’ve written before, qualifies as the solitary confinement capital of the Western World. In this essay, Beazer describes the effects of years of solitary confinement, pointing out that while it is particularly torturous for inmates already suffering from mental illness, this “interminable, indefinite” isolation also causes lasting psychological and physical  damage to all prisoners who endure it.

Beazer notes that “at long last,” some hope is offered by the bill introduced in the Colorado state legislature to limit the use of solitary confinement. In an instance of grim irony, we received his essay, written last month, just a day before lawmakers chose to back away from most meaningful portions of the bill.      

In most instances the law is a simple matter of doing what you should rather than what you want. One consequence of continuing to do what you want regardless is that a conscientious legislator someplace may find it necessary to propose a law to compel you to do what you should do.

Just such a circumstance has come about in the state of Colorado’s Department of Corrections (C.D.O.C.), of whom some are known to say the reason they’re called the “Department of Corrections” is because they’re always getting it wrong.

The C.D.O.C’s execrable practice of warehousing the mentally ill in lockdown 24/7 is unconscionable. To sentence men without due process to a solitary existence in a lonely cell with only the company of their psychoses  and personal demons for interminable, indefinite periods, some lasting decades would and does appear on the surface alone indefensible. To further exacerbate their evil usage by holding them thus until their mandatory release date only serves to discharge infinitely more dangerous parolees into the public.

Enduring this type of incarceration has many debilitating effects, the most common being depression with accompanying apathy and lethargy. The minimal activity and lack of meaningful exercise can atrophy their legs and some can barely walk after years of inactivity, and you can bet that there is little market for ex-cons who can’t even walk a quarter mile after release.

Then there’s the other end of the spectrum, motivated, active, angry inmates that compulsively work out 2, 4, 8 hours a day in the fashion of the hardened vengeful convict portrayed by Robert DeNiro in the movie “Cape Fear.” For months, then years, then decades, driven by their isolation, not even allowed IN PRISON to walk out of a cell without a two or three-man escort. In restrains, handcuffs, shackles, bellychains, lock-boxes. Surrounded by thick concrete walls, high fences, barbed wire, razor wire, armed tower and perimeter guards, electrified kill fences.

Ominously and inevitably their long-awaited day arrives, and when it does the C.D.O.C. dutifully, imprisoned in full restraints, escorts them to the prison gates, where and when they unleash them upon the public. Not surprisingly, their recidivism rate is exponentially and in some cases horrifyingly higher, as is their toll on society…you know, the public the C.D.O.C. ostensibly exists to defend.

The public may want to consider if perhaps the Prison Industrial Complex (of which the C.D.O.C. is definitely a part with its Incarceration Capitol of the World designation and proud title) finds it more profitable to release their home-made monsters. After all, we all know that high-profile horrific crimes can and often do drive news cycles, and have for years. Surely after all these years of high-profile horrific crimes that lead the news cycles somebody, anybody, everybody must have noticed that they drive incarceration rates.

Even so, no one is surprised that the C.D.O.C. has come out in fierce opposition to the Senate Bill 176 (introduced by Sen. Morgan Carroll, if passed the C.D.O.C would need to limit the solitary confinement of mentally ill prisoners –Denver Post, March 14, 2011) , as they claim it is because they say there is no indication officials are abusing the use of solitary confinement. Please allow me, from my true insider perspective, to disabuse you of that notion because for those of us actually in solitary confinement, we say they are abusing the over-use of solitary confinement.

They also make the preposterous claim that the average stay is 18 months. Let me tell you that those numbers are about as an off the books as C.D.O. (Collateralized Debt Obligation) at AIG. I personally have been in Ad Seg for 7 years. Let me to a survey, to my immediate right 7 years, to my left 8 years, next to him 4 years and under me 10 years. In my 7 years, I’ve only witnessed 2 men get of Ad Seg. 2!

The C.D.O.C. is in need of correction and the honorable Sen. Morgan Carroll and Rep. Claire Levy are the conscientious lawmakers trying to write another C.D.O.C. with Senate Bill 176, which is a start, a good start, at least, at long last.

I (we) don’t have much hope up here in the shameless incarceration capital of the world, and maybe, just maybe these venerable legislators can compel the C.D.O.C to stop doing what it wants and force it to begin doing what it should.

You can read an earlier essay by Clair Beazer here. Thanks to the Real Cost of Prisons Project, which maintains an excellent collections of prisoners’ writings, for passing on his work to Solitary Watch.

Clair Beazer welcomes mail at the following address: Mr. Clair L. Beazer, CSP #49801, C.C.F. Box Number 600, Canon City, CO 81215-0600.

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Fortresses of Solitude (Part 2)

Cañon City, Colorado, is the Solitary Confinement Capital of the Western World. Now, a Small Group Lawyers, Legislators, and Activists Is Challenging This All-American Form of Torture.
Part 2: Showdown at the Colorado State Penitentiary

Time passes slowly for the 750 prisoners at the Colorado State Penitentiary (CSP) on the outskirts of Cañon City. For years they were, like most supermax prisoners, virtually invisible to the public—but that has recently begun to change. CSP gained  notoriety last year as the subject of a documentary on solitary confinement by National Geographic Explorer. And now, a bill introduced in the state legislature, which seeks to curb the use of solitary, has made the state of Colorado—and CSP in particular–a focal point for a rising national movement against isolated confinement.

The men who inhabit CSP are more typical of supermax residents than those at ADX, and few of them would qualify as “the worst of the worst.” Prisoners from throughout Colorado’s correctional facilities land in administrative segregation, or “ad seg,” at CSP for fighting with other inmates or guards or for making threats or “compromising” or “intimidating” staff; for being identified as gang members; for having contraband (which can include not only weapons but cigarettes or “drug paraphernalia”); for attempting to escape, refusing a work assignment, “advocating facility disruption,” or generally posing a “serious management problem”—all on the say-so of prison officials. Prisoners are entitled to a hearing, but according to a 2005 study, 90 percent of these hearing result in the segregation requested by prison staff. Terms in solitary last an average of 18 months, but many stretch to years.

Whatever their violations of record, many prisoners find their way to CSP by exhibiting the symptoms of untreated mental illness. Since the 1980s, as budgets for social services have been slashed to the bone even as prison costs exploded, prisons have increasingly become the new asylums, and supermax isolation has become a substitute for appropriate mental health or substance abuse treatment for tens of thousands of prisoners. When the bipartisan Commission on Safety and Abuse in America’s Prisons issued its report in 2006, one of its primary recommendations was to “protect mentally ill prisoners” with disciplinary issues from being placed in solitary confinement, rather than in the “secure therapeutic units” where they belonged. To date, only a few states have made progress in this area–and they did so only when their hands were forced by lawsuits. According to a report from Human Rights Watch, which based its estimates on available data from the states, one-third to one-half of prisoners held in segregation suffered from mental illness. In Colorado, by the state’s own calculations, the figure in 2005 was 37 percent, up from 15 percent a decade earlier. The increase, according to the state’s report, had followed “a dramatic decline in mental health professionals and rehabilitation programs that were a casualty of budget cuts.”

Troy Anderson has spent 23 of his 40 years on earth behind bars—and the majority of those years in solitary confinement. His list of diagnoses includes ADHD, bipolar disorder, intermittent explosive disorder, anti-social personality disorder, cognitive disorders, a seizure disorder, and polysubstance dependence, and he has attempted suicide many times, starting at the age of 10. Now serving a 75-year sentence, Anderson has been seen periodically by prison psychiatrists, all of whom seem to concur that he is seriously mentally ill and needs therapy and medication. On at least one occasion, he briefly received treatment in a facility designed for prisoners with mental illness, and improved considerably. But he was taken from that facility and sent back to CSP, where his mental health treatment has been a fiasco of intermittent and inappropriate medications and scant therapy, sometimes conducted through a slot in his solid steel cell door.

[READ THE FULL ARTICLE HERE]

[Go to Part 1: The Alcatraz of the Rockies]

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Bill to Limit Solitary Confinement Introduced in Colorado Legislature

A bill just introduced in the Colorado state legislature would place curbs on the use of solitary confinement in state prisons, especially on prisoners with mental illness. As we’ve written before, Colorado makes liberal use of solitary confinement. The practice has spurred public debate over the opening of an second costly supermax prison in the midst of a budget crisis, and over a controversial study of prisoners in the all-solitary Colorado State Penitentiary.

The new bill emphasizes the economic costs of solitary confinement as well as its human costs. The following is from a press release issued this morning by the ACLU:

A bill introduced last night in the Colorado state legislature will end the all-too-common practice of warehousing prisoners with serious mental illness in solitary confinement. The bill would require a mental health evaluation for prisoners before they are placed in solitary and permit long term isolation only in extreme situations. It also would support mental and behavioral health alternatives to solitary confinement through cost-saving mechanisms and ensure that prisoners are
reintegrated into the general prison population before their community release.

The bill is the first to be introduced anywhere in the nation since the beginning of economic crisis that takes a serious look at the extraordinary cost to taxpayers of overusing solitary confinement.

“Using solitary confinement is enormously expensive, jeopardizes our public safety and is fundamentally inhumane,” said David Fathi, Director of the ACLU National Prison Project. “The vast majority of prisoners who are forced into solitary confinement eventually are released back into the community, making it imperative that we invest in proven alternatives that lead to greater rehabilitation and pave the way for successful re-entry.”

S.B. 176, introduced by Sen. Morgan Carroll (D-Aurora) and Rep. Claire Levy (D-Boulder), is a response to the growing number of inmates in Colorado prisons who have been diagnosed as mentally ill or developmentally disabled, and the staggering cost of using solitary confinement, rather than mental or behavioral health alternatives, as the default placement without regard to medical needs, institutional security or prisoner and public safety.

In Colorado, 37 percent of those in solitary confinement are prisoners with mental illness or developmental disabilities – up from 15 percent just a decade ago. The more than 1,400 Colorado inmates in solitary confinement spend 23 hours a day in isolation, for 16 months on average, at an increased additional cost of up to $21,485 per year, per inmate…

“By undermining the innate human need for social interaction, solitary confinement works against our goals as a society,” said Jessie Ulibarri, Public Policy Director for the ACLU of Colorado. “Releasing inmates directly from solitary confinement to the streets without any time to readjust to human interaction is a dangerous practice. What we want are people ready to fully integrate back into their communities, not people who are released from solitary confinement and led directly to the
prison gate, only to return again.”

A copy of the bill is available online at the following link: http://www.leg.state.co.us/CLICS/CLICS2011A/csl.nsf/fsbillcont3/A88F4FFC795C5C79872578080080E624?Open&file=176_01.pdf

And here is an editorial supporting the bill from the Boulder Daily Camera: http://www.dailycamera.com/ci_17395457?source=rss

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“Fatal Flaws” in the Colorado Solitary Confinement Study

Guest Post by Stuart Grassian, M.D.

Editors’ Note: The Colorado Department of Corrections recently released the controversial results of a year-long, federally funded study conducted at the Colorado State Penitentiary, a supermax prison in Cañon City where more than 700 men are held in solitary confinement. Entitled “One Year Longitudinal Study of the Psychological Effects of Administrative Segregation,” the study found that long-term solitary confinement had no detrimental effect on the mental health of inmates–including inmates with pre-existing mental illness. In fact, some prisoners were found to “improve” in 23-hour-a-day lockdown under conditions of extreme isolation.

Solitary Watch asked Dr. Stuart Grassian, one of the world’s leading experts on the psychiatric effects of solitary and other extreme forms of confinement, for his reactions to the study. Grassian, a Board-certified psychiatrist and former faculty member of the Harvard Medical School, has lectured extensively on this subject. He served as an expert in individual and class-action lawsuits addressing solitary confinement, and his conclusions have been cited in a number of federal court decisions.  He has  provided invited testimony before legislative hearings in New York State, Maine and Massachusetts and the Commission on Safety and Abuse in America’s Prisons. Grassian has also been retained and consulted by  public advocacy groups, including the Innocence Project,  the National Prison Project of the ACLU,  Massachusetts and Maine Civil Liberties Unions, the Capital Defense Fund of the NAACP,  and the Center for Constitutional Rights, among others. Much of his work on the subject is described in “Psychiatric Effects of Solitary Confinement” (Washington University Journal of Law and Policy, 22: 2006).

Dr. Grassian reports that he was invited by the authors of  Colorado study to participate in the presentation of their research at the 2010 annual meeting of the American Psychological Association (APA). ”In reviewing their research,” he writes, ”I found there were several fatal flaws in their methodology, and so stated during the presentation, including their choice not to incorporate into their analysis data that squarely contradicted their conclusions.  This research has now, without any further analysis or correction, been submitted for publication to the National Institute of Justice.”

We are publishing in full a version of the critique that Grassian provided to the authors of the study, which he has adapted to be more accessible to general readers. He writes that the critique “is based upon the report itself, discussions held publicly at the presentation at the APA Meeting,  as well as the written transcript of the deposition of the lead author, Maureen O’Keefe, in Dunlap v. Zavaras“–a federal suit by a death row inmate Colorado State Penitentiary, alleging that his conditions of confinement constitute cruel and unusual punishment.

≡≡≡≡≡

1.  Research Subjects,  Control Group.

Basically, the research subjects are Colorado inmates who were subject to disciplinary hearings that might result in their referral to Solitary Confinement (Ad Seg) in Colorado State Prison.  They are categorized as either having a mental illness diagnosis (MI) or no mental illness diagnosis (NMI).  Those referred to Ad Seg thus have a close comparison group (similar to what is termed a “control group” in research); that is, those who were returned to General Population, with some sanction short of Ad Seg.  Thus, the MI Ad Seg have a “control group” – the MI GP – and similarly, the NMI Ad Seg’s control group is NMI GP.  The authors pride themselves on having thus obtained in this manner a controlled study. (Controlled studies are able to isolate one variable – in this case, housing in Ad Seg – while leaving other variables constant in the groups studied.)

Naturally, the greatest focus will be on those having a diagnosis of some mental illness, the most vulnerable individuals, presumably those most vulnerable to decompensate as a result of Ad Seg confinement.

2.  Data Collected – the Problem of Validation.

The researchers must establish some means of determining the mental health status of the inmates being studied.  They choose to use various self-report rating scales, in which the inmates check off  symptoms and generally describe their severity, usually on a five-point scale

The question, of course, is whether these self-report scales have any meaningful relationship to the inmates’ actual psychiatric difficulties,  that is, whether are validated as a means of inquiring into psychiatric status.   Well, they are validated,  but not for people in the position of inmates.  They have been validated for college student volunteers and for outpatients in psychotherapy (that is, for these groups, their self-reports actually do correlate with other, objective measures of psychiatric symptomatology).   Especially in regard to outpatients, this is not surprising; it is intuitively reasonable that people seeking help are likely to try to be accurate in their self-report.

But inmates are in no way similarly placed.  Revealing weakness is dangerous, potentially subjecting the inmate to harassment, possibly even to physical danger.  Moreover, in the present study, the first author revealed at a deposition that the subjects were told that the research was intended to study how inmates were adjusting to prison life.   Well, quite clearly, how unwise it would be for an inmate to declare he was adjusting poorly;  that is not the kind of information he would like to present, for example, at a parole hearing.

There are other problems as well.  For example, the graduate student, Alyusha,  who actually met with the inmates was apparently an attractive young woman, talking with inmates who had virtually no contact with such young attractive women.  Even the research group itself noted the likely distorting effect of this fact, referring to it as the “Alyusha Effect.”  The inmates were likely to be reluctant to reveal weakness to this attractive young woman.

Thus, it cannot be assumed that inmate self-reports are a valid means of assessing psychiatric status.  It would not at all be surprising if these self-reports in fact bore little or no relationship at all to psychiatric status.

3.  The Attempts Made to Validate the Self-Reports.

The authors made token attempts to validate the inmate self-reports against reports (filling out brief check-the-box forms) of corrections officers and of clinicians.  However, by their own admission at public forum and at deposition, the authors acknowledge these reports are not of value.  They have no idea who or how the corrections officers filled out their forms; no specific instructions were provided, and over half the forms were never filled out at all.  Similarly with the forms filled out by the clinicians, the authors gave no guidelines or requirements as to how the forms would be filled out, and had no information whatsoever to suggest that the clinicians did more than they would normally do in a screening interview – that is, attempting to speak to the inmate through the cell door, either by talking through the crack between the edge of the door or else opening up the food slot, and bending down in an uncomfortable position to speak through the slot.  In any event, as the authors acknowledge, both officers and clinicians are already burdened by their routine paper work, and it would not be surprising to find that they put minimal or no effort at all in checking off these forms.    And indeed, while the inmate self-reports revealed no psychiatric symptomatology associated with ad seg housing,  the clinician forms found even less symptomatology than that of the inmates.

The authors acknowledge that little use can be made of the officer and clinician reports. The problem, simply, is that for these individuals, their mission (be it security or clinical treatment) is elsewhere;  it is not in filling out these forms. 

4.  The Authors Chose to Ignore Data That Squarely Contradicts Their Conclusions and Moreover Would Assess Validity of the Self-Report Data.

The most important comparison groups are the two groups of inmates with mental illness diagnosis referred for disciplinary hearing – those then housed in Ad Seg versus those then housed in GP.  Now since they all have psychiatric diagnoses, there will be records of mental health contact – symptoms noted in clinicians notes, medications prescribed, and so forth.  None of this data was reviewed at all.  For example, did those in Ad Seg end up requiring more medication than those in GP?   Absolutely no information, no attempt made to discover this data.

But, there was one piece of data recorded in the DOC files.  DOC files record incidents of emergency psychiatric contact (e.g. suicidal or self-destructive behavior) and emergence of psychotic symptoms.  Among the MI in Ad Seg (N=59) there were 37 such episodes (an average of .62 episodes per inmate – almost 2 for every 3 inmates).  Among the MI in GP (N=33), on the other hand,  there were only 3 (.09 per inmate – less than 1 for every 10 inmates).  Could this have been random – i.e. not a reflection of some significant difference in the result?   Statistically, the chance of that is entirely minute, approximately p=.0002;  i.e. a chance of 1 in 5,000, a mighty small number.  (In research, statistical significance requires only a probability of randomness of .05,  i.e. as much as 1 in 20!)     Thus, this objective data squarely contradicts the authors’ conclusion that Ad Seg does not produce significantly more psychiatric difficulties than does GP housing.  The authors simply declined to perform this straightforward statistical analysis, even after the oversight was explicitly pointed out.

This data is critical in another way as well,  as a proper means of assessing validity of the self-reports:   If the self-reports were a valid measure of psychiatric distress, we should see each crisis episode reflected in the inmate’s corresponding self-report. But if in filling out his self-report, the inmate responds so as to indicate he is doing just fine, then the self-reports are worthless.  They are garbage; they are in no way a measure of psychiatric distress. Now, it would have been quite easy for the authors to review these cases, a total of 37 recorded instances that would require simply a review of the corresponding self-report rating by the inmate during the time period at issue. I explicitly pointed this out to the authors prior to their public presentation of the data and prior to their final submission for publication.  Yet the authors declined to perform this crucial check on their data.  And, indeed, even looking cursorily at the data,  it is fairly obvious that such a review would have revealed that the self-report data was worthless.

5.  Conclusion.

There are a number of other methodological difficulties with their report, but in the end, much of the 163 page final report consists of long and endless statistical dissections of the self-report data. Yet these minute dissections reveal nothing, because the data they dissect does not in any meaningful manner reflect the psychiatric pathology they are supposed to be studying.   They endlessly dissect garbage.  And statistics are not alchemy; they cannot transform garbage into anything else but different arrangements of garbage.  Thus the saying among computer people and statisticians:  “G.I. – G.O. — garbage in, garbage out.”

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Colorado State Penitentiary II Opens With 300 New Solitary Confinement Cells

For purple mountain majesties, above...

Colorado already has hundreds of “administrative segregation” cells, and Colorado State Penitentiary’s ad seg unit is becoming notorious since National Geographic fimed a show on solitary confinement there. The state is also broke, making deep cuts to education and other public services. Nevertheless, following a protracted budget battle, Colorado came up with more than $10 million to open one tower of its new high-security penitentiary–officially part of the Centennial Correctional Facility, but widely known as CSP II.

The opening of CSP II will bring more than 200 new jobs to the Cañon City area, which already has 23 prisons and few other job opportunities. (Cañon City is the subject of the ”web documentary” Prison Valley.)  Unsurprisingly, the report in the local paper, the Cañon City Daily Record quotes the company line from the state Department of Corrections, which insists the ad seg cells are urgently needed.

After years of waiting and building, one tower of the expanded Centennial Correctional Facility is ready for its first round of inmates.

“There’s a lot of history with this from lawsuits to being our own supervising agent on the project,” said DOC Executive Director Ari Zavaras on Wednesday at the dedication ceremony. “There are a lot of things that went into it.”

The expansion, which was originally built under the name Colorado State Penitentiary II, is a high security prison. When the facility is fully open, it will house 948 administrative segregation inmates.

The one tower that is currently opening — no plans are yet in place to open the other two towers — will house 316 inmates by Sept. 30. Beginning Sept. 1, the facility will begin accepting 15 inmates a day through the end of the month. About half the inmates, 150 will come from the statewide administrative segregation wait-list and 166 will come from the Colorado State Penitentiary, making room for that facility to house the system’s mentally ill inmates.

The expansion’s opening has been bumped several times throughout the past seven years — most recently because of funding issues during the state’s budget crisis, which would have prevented staffing it. This spring, the General Assembly approved $10.8 million to open the tower…

Ground was broken on the facility in August 2007 after lengthy court battles challenging legislation signed by then-Gov. Bill Owens authorizing the construction in 2003.

Attorney General John Suthers said the opening was overdue and that adequate high security beds are absolutely essential for the safety of everyone — inmates and officers — in Department of Corrections. The expansion, Suthers said, is a “much needed addition to the Colorado Department of Corrections.”

“We will all be a lot better off with this facility,” Zavaras said. “We have a very solid program in place. This is an essential tool.”

To get a glimpse (and surely not the worst) of what life will be like in CSP II, take a look at National Geographic Explorer: Solitary Confinement.

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Voices from Solitary: Supermaxed Out in Colorado

Even in the context of a nation in lockdown, the state of Colorado stands out for the sheer number and visibility of its supermax prison facilities. Colorado is home to the federal government’s most famous supermax, the United States Penitentiary Administrative Maximum Facility, commonly known as ADX. The nearby Colorado State Penitentiary (CSP) has a 750-man lockdown unit that was featured in the recent National Geographic Explorer documentary on solitary confinement. And on September 1, the state will open CSP II, which will hold more than 300 solitary confinement cells. Remarkably, all of these prisons–and several others–are located in a single county, Fremont County in rural south central Colorado. (Fremont and its county seat, Cañon City, are the subject of an interactive web documentary called Prison Valley.)

CSP II was the subject of controversy and protest earlier this year, when cash-strapped Colorado made deep cuts to education and other state services, but managed to come up with the $10.8 million to open the new prison. This, in part, is the subject of this essay by Clair L. Beazer, an inmate in Administrative Segregation at CSP. He sent this piece, which he calls “Lock Downs and Monsters,” to Lois Ahrens of the Real Cost of Prisons Project, along with a note that explains: “ Here in the lock-down (Administrative Segregation) I receive no earned time and good time is dependent on discretionary parole where 99% don’t receive discretion. Colorado will be opening its new C.S.P. II even though it costs three times as much to house someone like this. Colorado already has double (or more) the national average of these types of cells.”

In a recent hour long broadcast on the National Geographic Channel, Colorado’s C.S.P. (Colorado State Penitentiary) maximum security lock-down facility was featured. At one point its warden Susan Jones described the isolation of the penitentiary’s inmates as part of a behavior modification program. Indeed, she then further described the main focus of the facility’s reason for existing as a form of behavioral modification and her responsibilities as the supervisor of this “program.”

Of course, as a measure of any purpose or program there must be a number who fail and those that succeed in having modified their behavior. She never actually utters what percentage that is, as any person proud of a success would, and with good reason. That reason is because very, very few succeed in a grim, draconian program that is based on an isolation that exacerbates every phobia, psychosis, psychopathology, and antisocial tendency already run rampant among them.

Furthermore, it would be obvious to any unbiased perspective that any behavior modification “program” that fails to modify behavior is an outright and abject failure. Moreover, one that magnifies and grievously worsens and increases antisocial behaviors that it is specifically designed to “modify” is a travesty and a behavior modification “program” in name only.

In addition many courts have found that this type of incarceration to be unconstitutional, and those of us unfortunate to be suffering through it can testify that is it both cruel and very unusual.

The fact that Colorado will now expand upon its hidden failure is outrageous! After building the new C.S.P. II, the state finds it must now fund this albatross to the tune of what will eventually amount to billions and is the most expensive, inefficient and ineffective program in the entire state.

How could this be, and where in the world would such a foolish failure see the light of day? Right here in the incarceration capital of the world where failure is not only rewarded, it is now being duplicated with the soon to open C.S.P. II.

Here in the home of sinecure, base of the prison of the prison industrial complex, the public pays: Pays to put the inmates in prison,  pays for the upkeep and millions in salaries. Pays for the duration of the stay, and if that isn’t enough they will pay yet another pound of flesh when these modified monsters are unleashed back onto the public after being warehoused for years and building their frustration, anger and enmity.

In Mary Shelley’s classic man/monster tale, Dr. Frankenstein slowly assembled his monster piece by piece as Colorado now does on  a much larger scale. Up here in the rarified air they call it job security, and the Department of Corrections is our personal Dr. Frankenstein in woefully misnamed Freemont County.

The author welcomes mail and can be contacted at:  Mr. Clair L. Beazer, C.S.P. #49801, P.O. Box 777, Canon City, CO 81215-0777.

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Cash-Strapped Colorado Comes Up With Funds for New Supermax

Colorado’s $18.2 billion budget, which state lawmakers passed this week after contentious debate, makes substantial cuts to public education, colleges and universities, and tax breaks for small businesses and senior citizens. In the face of shrunken revenues (and dwindling federal stimulus funds), Colorado even reduced its overall corrections budget. But in the midst of all these deep cuts to vital services, the Colorado legislature managed to find $9.37 million to open one wing of a new supermax prison, containing 316 additional “administrative segregation” cells where prisoners will live in 23-hour-a-day solitary confinement.

Colorado already has more than 1,100 solitary confinement beds throughout the prison system, according to the Colorado Criminal Justice Reform Coalition (CCJRC). As a percentage of total prison beds, this is more than three times the national average. The state’s existing supermax facility, the Colorado State Penitentiary (CSP-I), is less than 20 years old and holds more than 750 prisoners in solitary confinement. Yet in 2003, the state initiated construction of a second supermax, CSP-II, at the cost of $208 million. 

CSP-II was delayed by a lawsuit, and by the time it was completed last year, Colorado governor Bill Ritter put its opening on hold because of budget shortfalls. But Ritter changed his mind, and despite resistance from a coalition of state civil liberties, human rights, and criminal justice reform groups, lawmakers voted through the funds to open one tower of CSP-II.

At the same time, Colorado has cut funds for inmate vocational training, re-entry programs, and mental health care–despite the fact that close to 40 percent of the prisoners in administrative segregation are believed to suffer from mental illness. Corrections department officials and others who support the opening of CSP-II say it is needed to protect guards and inmates alike from violent and unruly prisoners. But statistics do not support the contention that greater use of solitary confinement reduces risk. As CCJRC argues, ”Colorado can not ‘segregate’ its way to safety.”

In a strange confluence of events, the vote came just days before Sunday night’s airing of “Explorer: Solitary Confinement,” an episode of the popular National Geographic documentary series that focuses on prisoners in solitary at CSP-I. While it takes pains to present a “balanced” view, the show manages to convey something of the cruelty of Colorado’s liberal use of administrative segregation. On Sunday, Denver Post columnist Susan Greene wrote about the documentary:

“Solitary Confinement”…follows inmates through the 23 hours they spend each day locked down in cells, their food pushed through slots in their door. The 24th hour is for exercise, also alone.

The film debunks conceptions that these guys are all Hannibal Lecters. One is doing time for identity theft. Another stole a car. The average stint in isolation–or “ad-seg,” short for administrative segregation, as officials call it–is two years. Prisoners end up there not because of the crimes they committed, but for violations that corrections officials say threaten their administrative efficiency. It’s an attempt to modify behavior….

Colorado has no limit on how long the system can keep inmates in conditions that many experts call torturous. “When you move into a cell, you look on the floor and you’ll see where cement wore out from the last person who did the same thing you’ll be doing–walking from the bunk to the door, bunk to the door. Turn. Turn. Turn. . . . It does seem to break something inside you,” says Josue Gonzales, who has spent seven of his 29 years alone in CSP-I.

Greene quotes Dr. Stuart Grassian, a psychiatrist who has done extensive research on solitary confinement, and is featured in the National Geographic documentary. “It’s virtually guaranteed to make people worse,” Grassian says. “Ninety-five percent of these people will get out and be released back on the streets. All isolation will have done is make them as violent, crazy and dangerous as possible when they get out,” he continues. “This isn’t getting tough on crime. It’s getting tough on the community.”

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