Corrections officials, inmates say MN prison conditions a matter of public safety
From the Pioneer Press April 7, 2024
Brown water, scorching summer heat with no air conditioning, one visitation day per week. Those incarcerated in Minnesota Correctional Facility-Stillwater didn’t expect prison life would be easy living, but no one told them it would be like this.
“We filtered the water with socks,” former Stillwater inmate Jesse Curry said. “It was medieval.”
Minnesota Correctional Facility-Stillwater was the first prison established in the state in 1853. Its current, second facility in Bayport opened in 1914. The building has no central air, and in September, roughly 100 inmates protested conditions with a sit-in, sending the prison into lockdown for over a day. The state departments of Corrections and Health later launched an investigation into the water quality at the prison and promised to develop a water management plan that would include hiring outside plumbers.
Kent Jones, a Stillwater inmate of over 24 years, said a reduction in visitation days to just one a week began out of COVID-19 concerns but have not returned to normal since then. Even at one day a week, he said cancellations happen often.
“The DOC talk about the importance of family … but they are not family-friendly,” said Jones, who was convicted of a 1992 rape and murder in Sherburne County.
Prison conditions and family visits are about more than just inmate comfort. It’s about public safety.
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Employment and education opportunities inside prison are slim, too. Stillwater used to have more programming for education and employment in trades and industry, but after an inmate used a hammer to murder Stillwater corrections officer Joseph Gomm in a metal shop in 2018, that programming went away and never returned. Now Jones folds balloons for $3 an hour, a skill that would not transfer well to outside employment upon his potential release in 2030.
Former staff say action needed
Antonio Espinosa worked as a corrections officer at Stillwater for nearly two decades. Gomm was his friend. Espinosa said the treatment of prisoners in response to incidents like Gomm’s murder is often unfair.One of our artists and board members, Jennifer Marx, shared the following about her experience at the convening in Chicago, “As I reflect on the convening, one word that comes to mind is inspiration. The energy and creativity that permeated the event were truly remarkable. Being surrounded by talented artists, passionate individuals, and dedicated community partners was incredibly motivating. It reinforced my belief in the power of art and its ability to foster meaningful connections and drive social change.”
Antonio Espinosa
Everyone had to pay for one person’s actions,” Espinosa said, referring to how education in trades and employment in industry jobs disappeared after Gomm’s murder.
Those jobs still have not returned or been replaced in any significant way, according to Espinosa, who has been recognized for his “Art from the Inside” exhibits of inmate artwork.
Gomm’s murder was mentioned in the 2020 evaluation report, which said the DOC tracks whether prisoners are assigned to programming or not, but this tracking does not change based on whether that programming is actually available: “For example, prison administrators told us that the Stillwater facility stopped offering programming for weeks following the death of Officer Joseph Gomm in July 2018. However, in August 2018, Stillwater’s idleness rate was similar to that in months prior, and over half of the facility’s prisoners were still ‘assigned’ to some program.”
Espinosa said that not only was Gomm’s murder a blow to morale for prisoners who lost those opportunities as a consequence, it was also a blow to staff, many of whom Espinosa noted became more withdrawn at work. Some quit entirely.
Staff retention has always been difficult. Espinosa knows more than anyone that it’s a difficult job that requires a certain kind of personality: “You think that just because you have a uniform and some power, you can treat these people (prisoners) however you want; that’s not going to work.”
Corrections officers often have to deal with interpersonal issues that go far beyond the physical confrontations seen in movies. Espinosa said that a guard has to wear “a lot of hats” and has to be empathetic.
“One moment, you’re security. One moment, you’re a therapist. One moment, you’re a pastor for these people,” Espinosa said. He believes that many of the people who end up in prison are “broken,” or “hurt” and are in need of healing.
“I had to take a step backwards and see how I could help the system and help people,” Espinosa said, and encouraged people outside of prisons to involve themselves by talking to representatives and getting involved with activist work. “We can’t forget these people; we can’t leave them behind.”
