Cameras at Attica have provided an unprecedented level of transparency and accountability for corrections officers. And that's been good news for inmates.
He’s losing weight, due to his inability to prepare meals. Often, it seems like he’s just wasting away. The worst part is, it’s all happening right before my eyes, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
It was my first time on a jury. I was 31, balancing two jobs while going to graduate school. It was 2009, New Orleans was infested with crime, and I remember feeling like I wanted to be part of justice.
To stop drugs and weapons from entering jails and prisons, many corrections agencies bar family members from mailing packages or bringing them during visits. Those who want to send food, clothing and other gifts to incarcerated relatives — at any time of year — often must go through private vendors.
The Government Accountability Office created a fictitious law enforcement agency and applied for military-grade equipment from the Department of Defense. And in less than a week, they got it.
Since I've been caged for over 20 years myself, I had nothing to bring to the table. The closest I'd ever come to something like this was seeing computers on TV.
Nearly a hundred years ago, a Connecticut lawyer walked into court and made a presentation that, in the words of legal titan Felix Frankfurter, “will live in the annals as a standard by which other prosecutors will be judged.”
My brother was serving a life sentence, and I knew all too well the devastation that long-term prison sentences could have on a family. That’s when something clicked: I didn’t want to put another human being through that.
Before I worked in a prison, I certainly thought prisoners were different from normal people. They didn’t feel pain like I did; being abused wasn’t as bad for them as it would be for someone like me, I figured.