The Waupun Correctional Institution, the oldest prison in Wisconsin built in the 1850s, sits in the middle of a residential neighborhood (Photo | Wisconsin Examiner)

Under scrutiny over prison deaths and living conditions, the Wisconsin Department of Corrections has received recommendations that aim to improve life in adult prisons, including solitary confinement, suicide watch, mental health care and basic corrections practices. 

The study was conducted by Falcon Correctional and Community Services Inc. experts partnering with the Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC). The department said it is planning to contract with the consulting firm to create a framework to implement recommendations. 

“While the report affirms that DOC is moving in the right direction, it also shows that there is more work to be done,” Corrections Secretary Jared Hoy said in the department’s press release. 

In a statement, the advocacy group Ex-Incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO) said the report “confirms what directly impacted people and advocates have said for years: Wisconsin’s prisons are dangerously overcrowded, under-resourced and in desperate need of healing-centered reform.”

Many of the suggested changes will affect the entire correctional system, the agency said. Consultants and staff will work to “reimagine existing space, create new processes and training at five pilot sites.” 

In a letter dated July 9, 2024, Hoy told a state Assembly committee that the department planned on bringing on Falcon for an outside review. News of criminal charges against staff at Waupun Correctional Institution over prisoner deaths had broken just weeks before Hoy wrote the letter. The same day, the committee heard testimony about the toll of solitary confinement and other issues in the prison system. 

The department and Falcon signed a contract in November 2024, and the Examiner reported in January on details of the partnership obtained through public records requests. Criminal justice reform advocates expressed hope the report would be beneficial but have called for independent oversight of the Department of Corrections. Last week, the department published the 137-page final report, which lists strengths for the department to build on as well as recommendations for improvement.  

The report states that while all recommendations are made based on Falcon’s overall review of the adult prison system, “we understand that the majority of recommendations will require funding, often requiring budget approval.”

Susan Franzen of the prison reform advocacy group Ladies of SCI expressed concern about whether overcrowding and staffing shortages will affect DOC’s ability to effectively carry out recommendations. 

“Legislators need to help the DOC out by giving them a fighting chance to make these changes,” Franzen wrote in an email to the Wisconsin Examiner. 

The report states that the study involved working with DOC officials, gathering data, reviewing policies, statutes and prior studies and conducting virtual workshops with DOC experts and others, including formerly incarcerated people and advocates. 

It also included visits to 15 facilities, such as the Waupun and Green Bay prisons, and interviews with staff and incarcerated people.

Suicide watch

Preventing suicide is a pressing concern, the report states in a section that summarized information from mental health-related discussions with staff during mental health workshops and site visits.

One concern is that observation cells are typically in restrictive housing units; in addition, “individuals on observation status are not allowed therapeutic items, visits, phone calls, or recreation,” the report states.  

People who pose threats to themselves, or who pose threats to others because of mental illness, may be put on observation.

The report recommends housing people in observation in “more appropriate environments that support therapeutic care and patient safety.” 

Over the last 15 years, 59 people died by suicide in Wisconsin prisons, an average of four deaths per year. Suicide watch placements reportedly rose from 1,200 to 1,500 per year to about 2,500 in 2024. In June, the Examiner reported on Victor Garcia, who died due to an attempt to hang himself while he was on observation in a Wisconsin prison.

Psychological services staff decide what items a person can have access to while they’re on clinical observation. Department policy provides a list to use as a starting point, including items like soap, toilet paper and suicide-resistant clothing. 

The report described the list as “very limiting,” and the security mat or mattress was observed to be inadequate for most people on suicide precautions. Later on in the report, it suggests replacing small sleeping mats with suicide-resistant mattresses.

Solitary confinement

The Falcon report includes priorities and steps to take on “restrictive housing” in state prisons, where incarcerated people experience “very limited” out-of-cell programming and recreation time, such as:

• Giving people in restrictive housing at least two hours of recreation and/or programming each day, not including out-of-cell time for necessary activities, such as showers 
• Reviewing the status, programming and needs of people in restrictive housing every week instead of every 30 days 
• Improving cleanliness and removing all graffiti 
• Establishing units that are alternatives to restricted housing for people with serious mental illnesses

Incarcerated people in Wisconsin prisons can be put in restrictive housing as a punishment for a violation or when having the person live with the general population would create a serious threat. 

An average stay in disciplinary separation — a punishment for committing a violation — decreased from 39.7 days in January 2019 to 27.4 days in April 2025, the report notes. However, this varies by facility, and the latest average published online for Green Bay Correctional Institution is 48.7 days. 

The department has begun to address the number of people in restrictive housing and how long they spend there, the report states. However, the number of people placed in restrictive housing has not changed significantly over the last five years.

“High rates of substance use and mental illness among individuals placed in restrictive housing was noted, often contributing to a ‘revolving door’ for this population,” the report stated in the section about mental health insights from staff. 

Solitary confinement has potential effects of physical harm, health issues and negative effects on mental health, the report notes.

Solitary confinement is also associated with increased risk of violence towards oneself and suicide, and research shows that solitary confinement as a tool does not reduce institutional misconduct or violence or the risk of recidivism, the report states. 

There were 950 people in restrictive housing as of September, 863 of whom were placed there due to a rule violation, according to online Department of Corrections data. 

Under a policy that went into effect last May, a placement of over 120 days has to be approved by the assistant administrator for the division of adult institutions, the report noted. 

An overcrowded system

All medium and maximum-security facilities in Wisconsin except for Waupun Correctional Institution are over capacity, as of January, the report states. Facilities for men were at 130% of capacity, while women’s prisons were at 166% of capacity. People are living at security levels that don’t fit their classification — for example, a person sentenced to medium-security being held in maximum security, or a person sentenced to minimum-security being held in medium security. 

The state building commission took an initial step toward updating the aging and overcrowded prison system last month, when it agreed to create plans for a revamp. 

Inconsistency in the department 

Leaders and staff at the facility level of the agency felt a lack of autonomy in their day-to-day jobs, the report found. They believe there is “significant and often excessive and unnecessary scrutiny from outside entities.” 

But the study also found a problem with “a general lack of uniformity across facilities,” which is creating challenges relating to monitoring, oversight and accountability. It recommends “system-wide alignment” on areas including basic security practices, incident reporting and investigation processes.

The report recommends that the agency take an approach that involves both oversight and collaboration. The goal would be to carry out the strategy of DOC leadership with both efforts from leadership and “input and innovation” from frontline staff, stakeholders and incarcerated people. 

A central part of a section called “Back-to-Basics in Correctional Practices” recommends a three to five-day training for all staff about basic corrections practices, such as searches, use of force and out-of-cell time for people in restrictive housing. 

The department “has experienced a great deal of staffing changes, with a significant number of the current staff hired during or after the COVID19 pandemic,” the report found.

Strained mental health care

Mental health services were described as strained, according to the section of the report about mental health-related discussions with staff.

That section of the report suggests that an “unsustainable” number of people have been assigned to receive mental health care at least once every six months, and that this interferes with treatment for people who need more intensive care. 

Nearly half of all incarcerated people in adult prisons had been classified as needing mental health care as of May 20. It’s a much higher rate than other state correctional departments see, the report states. 

Department data shows the agency isn’t fully staffed in psychological services, with a vacancy rate of 19.7%. 

About nine in ten incarcerated women were on the mental health caseload. The report also noted that the population of maximum security facilities has a higher percentage of incarcerated people with mental health needs than medium or minimum security facilities.

Other recommendations in the report address medical practices, investigations and intelligence practices, data management and human resources and staffing.

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Green Bay Correctional Institution. (Photo by Andrew Kennard/Wisconsin Examiner)

When a prison built in the 1800s is still housing people in 2025 with the same aging infrastructure, we have to be honest, the system is broken. Wisconsin’s prisons have been in crisis for years, and for the first time in a long time, we’re seeing a small but important step toward change. 

Gov. Tony Evers recently received bipartisan approval to overhaul Wisconsin’s aging prison system and close the outdated Green Bay and Waupun prisons. The overhaul strategy includes a $15 million project investment and outlines a four-year process to reduce the number of beds, modernize facilities, and shift the focus toward rehabilitation and safety. That’s progress, but 2029 is too far away, and Evers’ plan lacks the kind of decarceration measures needed to actually reduce the prison population and make Wisconsin safer. 

The reality inside our prisons doesn’t have four years to wait. People are dying. Staff are exhausted. Families are breaking under the weight of a system that punishes more than it prepares people to come home. Every delay costs lives and wastes taxpayer dollars that could be used to help people rebuild instead of being locked away. 

I know this firsthand because I lived it. I spent part of my incarceration inside Green Bay Correctional Facility, one of the oldest and most overcrowded prisons in Wisconsin. The facility was built in 1898 with a design capacity of about 17,000 people statewide, yet Wisconsin’s prison population has hovered above 22,000 for years. That means thousands of people crammed into cells meant for far fewer. Walking those halls, you can feel the age of the place, the air thick with humidity, the bitter cold in winter, and the lack of ventilation that makes it hard to breathe. The walls are cracking, the infrastructure is failing, and the environment itself strips people of their dignity. 

Those conditions don’t make anyone safer. They don’t prepare people for reentry. They create desperation, both for both the incarcerated and the staff working inside. The best way to ensure a safer Wisconsin is to get the people who are ready to reenter society out of our prisons and into reentry. Overcrowded and understaffed prisons overtax our correctional officers and make prisons unsafe for officers and incarcerated people. In addition, understaffing makes it harder to ensure that everyone gets the programming that they need. The Federal First Step Act and CARES Act Home Confinement have both proved that bringing the right people back early can result in lower recidivism, better public safety and safer and more effective prisons. 

I was one of the many people affected by Wisconsin’s Truth in Sentencing law, which eliminated parole and early release. That law has kept countless people behind bars longer than necessary, removing the hope and incentive that parole once provided.

If Wisconsin wants to lead on justice reform, this can’t just be a construction project. Real reform means reducing the number of people behind bars, ending excessive revocations, expanding reentry programs, and investing in housing, treatment, and mental health care. It means giving people a path forward, not just warehousing. 

According to the Prison Policy Initiative, Wisconsin imprisons about 663 people per 100,000 residents, far more than Minnesota (173) or Illinois (341). Despite years of promises to reform, the state’s prison population has remained between 21,000 and 23,000 people for nearly two decades. 

Nearly 40% of new admissions each year come from revocations, not new crimes, meaning thousands are sent back to prison for breaking supervision rules like missing curfew, losing housing, or failing a drug test. That’s roughly 4,000 to 5,000 people every year, based on Department of Corrections data. I lead a statewide Smart Justice campaign focused on ending these excessive revocations, because it’s one of the biggest drivers of mass incarceration in Wisconsin. 

Add to that the worst racial disparity in the country. Black residents are imprisoned at 11 times the rate of white residents, according to the Sentencing Project, and it’s clear that our problem isn’t just old buildings. It’s old thinking. Reducing prison beds without changing these policies is like draining a bathtub while leaving the faucet running. Until we reform supervision, expand early release and invest in reentry and community support, the system will keep refilling itself. 

Closing prisons built in the 1800s is a step in the right direction, but it has to come with urgency and intention. We can’t keep reacting; we have to start transforming. The same energy that went into passing this plan must go into implementing it quickly and with input from the people most affected by it, those who have lived behind those walls, their families and the communities most affected by incarceration. 

As we head into a new election season, this issue must be front and center for every candidate running for governor. Wisconsin deserves leaders who will move us forward, not just talk about reform, but act on it. The next administration should be judged on whether it has the courage to close outdated prisons, expand second chances, and build a system rooted in rehabilitation, dignity, and justice. 

Gov. Evers was right when he said, “We’ve got to get this damned thing done.” But getting it done means more than moving money; it means moving with purpose. Justice reform isn’t about buildings; it’s about people. 

Wisconsin’s motto is Forward. It’s time for our justice system and our next governor to finally live up to that.

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A bipartisan bill in the Wisconsin Legislature would launch a pilot project to provide health care and substance abuse recovery services to incarcerated people before and after release.(Photo by Caspar Benson/Getty Images)

This story has been updated to reflect the fact that the proposed bill would cover general health care needs in addition to substance use disorders

“When people don’t receive support, they tend to go back to what they knew,” Tom Denk, who was released from state prison in 2022, told the Wisconsin Examiner.

In an email, Denk said that he has experienced incarceration for a substance use issue and has had many friends who have had similar experiences. 

“One of my best friends was in prison with me,” Denk said. “It was his tenth time in prison — all for substance use issues. However, after he was released, this last time, he died from an overdose.”

Denk said he would like to see wrap-around services extended to include all prisoners. However, he supports a bipartisan effort in the Wisconsin Legislature to request a specific type of waiver of federal Medicaid law for a state demonstration project to provide eligible incarcerated people with up to 90 days of prerelease health care coverage. 

The coverage would include case management services, medication-assisted treatment for all types of substance use disorders and a 30-day supply of all prescription medications, which are the minimum benefits a state is expected to propose in its application. . There are 19 other states that have approved waivers, while nine, including D.C., are pending. 

In 2023, the Biden administration put out guidance encouraging states to test strategies to support the re-entry of incarcerated people into communities, according to the health policy research organization KFF.

While Medicaid is prohibited from paying for non-inpatient services provided during incarceration, states can apply for a partial waiver of that policy.

A bill in the Wisconsin Legislature, AB 604, would require the Wisconsin Department of Health Services to request the waiver from the federal government. Incarcerated people who would receive coverage must be otherwise eligible for coverage under the Medical Assistance program. It will receive a hearing Tuesday afternoon in the Assembly Committee on Mental Health and Substance Abuse Prevention. Its senate counterpart, SB 598, has been referred to the Committee on Health.  

In a press release, Sen. Sarah Keyeski (D-Lodi) said the bill would offer a way to reduce state and local health care costs for individuals with substance use disorders who are already eligible for Medicaid and are incarcerated in state prisons or county jails. 

The 2023 guidance states that the goal is not to allow prison authorities to transfer costs of providing needed prisoner health care to the Medicaid program. States have to reinvest federal matching funds received for carceral health care services currently funded with state or local dollars, according to a KFF publication last year.

Reinvested money must go toward activities that increase access or improve the quality of health care services for people who are incarcerated or were recently released, or for health-related social services that may help divert people released from incarceration from involvement in the criminal justice system, according to KFF.

Keyeski said the bill would also enhance access to care after release. 

“If we can initiate treatment for more individuals struggling with substance use disorders while they are incarcerated, we can both improve health outcomes once they are released back into their communities and lower rates of recidivism,” Keyeski said. 

Denk said that upon release, he had to search for a new provider, which “got more and more difficult to do.” He said that “case management would help with this issue — and reduce stressors that cause people to use substances.”

Support from lawmakers of both parties, activists 

Sen. Jesse James (R-Thorp) and Rep. Clint Moses (R-Menomonie) are among the bipartisan group of lawmakers who introduced or cosponsored AB 604.

James is the chair of the Senate Committee on Mental Health, Substance Abuse Prevention, and Children and Families, while Moses is chair of the Assembly Committee on Health, Aging and Long-Term Care. Sen. Howard Marklein, co-chair of the Joint Committee on Finance, is another cosponsor. 

“This bill is about saving lives and giving people coming out of the criminal justice system the best chance of recovery and reintegration into their communities,” James said in an emailed statement. 

The statement cited a North Carolina study of opioid overdose death rates between 2000 and 2015, which concluded that people released from prison are highly vulnerable to opioids and need urgent prevention measures. 

“When treatment begins pre-release and is maintained throughout reentry, we will see meaningful improvement in health outcomes,” James said.

Moses said in a statement that the bill will help give incarcerated individuals a positive start in a transitional phase in their lives, and would also reduce costs for local governments. 

The criminal justice reform advocacy groups EX-Incarcarated People Organizing (EXPO) and WISDOM expressed support for the legislation in statements to the Examiner. 

“For too long, people leaving incarceration have faced dangerous gaps in healthcare coverage — especially those living with substance use disorders,” EXPO stated. 

The legislation “recognizes what we see every day in our work,” according to the organization, “that people returning home are far more likely to succeed when their health and basic needs are supported from the start.”

In an email to the Examiner, Mark Rice of WISDOM said that many formerly and currently incarcerated people are struggling with poverty, mental illness and addiction. He said that “far too many people” detained in prisons and jails are needlessly dying and suffering due to health issues that could be fixed through increased access to care during and after incarceration. 

“The system must be fundamentally transformed so that health is prioritized over punishment,” Rice said. 

Under the bill, the Department of Health Services would submit the request for a waiver by Jan. 1, 2027. 

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The Journey to Justice Bus at Madison Christian Community Church on Sunday, Oct. 12. | Photo by Frank Zufall/Wisconsin Examiner

Solitary confinement, the practice of putting someone in isolation in a small cell, is not a topic you expect to hear discussed at church on Sunday.

But on Oct. 12, at the Madison Christian Community, was a stop of the 18-city, nationwide Journey to Justice Bus Tour, that included two panel discussions focused on the topic, one with four state legislators, including two candidates for governor.

Visiting the Journey to Justice bus, standing in a bathroom-sized solitary jail cell replica and hearing the real-life stories of those who had spent part of their lives confined in such spaces, visitors gained a visceral appreciation of the United Nations declaration that punishing people with more than 15 consecutive days in solitary is a form of  torture.

In the Hollywood presentation, the practice is reserved for hardened criminals, a safeguard against violence that’s necessary to keep good order and discipline.

But the reality is that small procedural violations, medical conditions, mental health crises sometimes even pregnancy are reasons people inside our prisons end up isolated for multiple days at a time.

Those who have experienced solitary confinement, otherwise known as restrictive housing or segregation, say it is traumatizing and even years after they’ve been released from prison, they are still reliving dark memories.

The Solitary and Conditions of Confinement Legislation panel at the church included four Democratic state legislators, including gubernatorial hopefuls  Sen. Kelda Roys and Rep. Francesca Hong, both of Madison. Roys, an attorney, has served on the Judiciary Public Safety Committee and worked on the Innocence Project when she was a law student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

Milwaukee area Reps. Darrin Madison and Ryan Clancy also participated. Madison is a former organizer for Youth Justice Milwaukee and a member of the Correction Committee. Clancy sits on the Corrections Committee and has served on the Judiciary and Law Enforcement Committee.

Jen Ann Bauer, who spent five and a half years in prison and is currently serving the remainder of her sentence on community supervision said she was put in solitary confinement at least four times, with the longest lasting 90 days.

“When people hear you’re in solitary confinement, they think discipline, and it is so much more to the detriment of human beings,” she said. “It is isolating. It is defeating. It is control and it is torture. We are often placed in solitary confinement for protection or safety measures, minor and major rule violations, or simply for struggling with trauma and mental health. And let’s be honest, most incarcerated people are already trauma survivors. So I ask, how is isolating a wounded person somehow equal to safety? Solitary doesn’t lock a body in a cell. It locks a person inside their own mind. Time stops and pain does not.”

In solitary, Bauer said, she paced the floor just to remind herself that she still existed.

“Women survive through connection, through relationships, and so when you take away human contact, you take away the very thing that keeps us alive,” she said. “No one is built to handle 23 hours a day in a cell. That’s not discipline, that’s psychological torture.”

She added  that in solitary there is no interaction with outside family members, weakening relationships with children.

Observing  people who spent time in solitary,  she said, she saw that they changed for the worse.

“People with dreams come out of solitary unable to make eye contact, unable to trust and unable to believe in themselves or the world around them,” she said. “Solitary doesn’t confine a body. It suffocates the heart. It doesn’t correct behavior. It destroys identity. Solitary confinement causes psychological and emotional distress, more harm, more trauma. Solitary confinement is not a tool. It is a wound, and it is a wound the system continues to inflict on people and then blame them for bleeding.”

Ventae Parrow agreed with Bauer that solitary confinement  had no redeeming  impact on him in prison other than causing him to reflect on what he wanted for his life. He questioned who had the authority to determine whether one should be in solitary, and noted that many who experienced it came out angrier.

“And now you got angry humans coming out back to the community with the vengeance in their heart and their mind versus rehabilitation,” he said.

Tom Denk, an advocate with several WISDOM affiliates and a member of the Mental Health Action Partnership, moderated the panel. Denk, who had also spent time in solitary confinement, noted there is a high rate of mental illness among incarcerated residents, 45%, and the experience of being isolated exacerbates their conditions.

“The use of solitary confinement or restrictive housing is a correctional practice with significant ethical implications,” said Denk. “Prolonged isolation has been associated with severe psychological distress, including anxiety, depression and increased risk of self-harm. It also worsens existing mental health conditions and contributes to higher rates of recidivism.”

But Denk said solitary is often chosen as a method to address psychosis instead of treatment.

Talib Akbar, vice president of the non-profit advocacy group WISDOM, the organizer of the event, said any rule violation in prison could result in being sent to solitary. He said even being a couple of feet outside a cell door could result in being sent to solitary.

The Wisconsin Examiner recently heard from a former resident of Oshkosh Correctional Institution who said he was put in segregation after calling the nearby fire department to report concerns over the prison’s fire safety protocols. He claims that when the fire department called the prison’s facility manager, the manager became upset that the resident didn’t follow the chain of command, and the resident was placed in segregation.  

The panel also addressed the types of medical treatments residents receive in solitary.

Megan Hoffman Kolb whose father, Dean Hoffmann, died in solitary confinement at Waupun Correctional Institution in 2023,  said her father, who suffered from mental illness for 30 years, didn’t consistently get the right medication for the first 80 days in Waupun and never received a psych intake exam, which he was supposed to have received.

She said when her father recorded a credible threat from his cellmate, the prison’s response was to place him in solitary.

“In solitary, he was locked alone in a concrete cell, 24 hours a day, no books, no paper, no phone calls home, no medication,” she said. “The lights were left on constantly. Silence was deafening, broken only by the sounds of people crying out down the hallway. He told staff he was suicidal, hearing voices and couldn’t sleep. A correctional officer responded, ‘What do you want me to do about it?’”

She added, “Solitary confinement is not just isolation. It’s sensory deprivation. It’s a slow unraveling of a person’s mind in a small space. Days blur together, hope disappears for someone already struggling with mental illness, unbearable, and it’s not just emotional, it’s biological. Prolonged solitary confinement literally changes the brain.”

After nine days in solitary, Kolb said, her father took his own life by hanging himself from the cell door. She had viewed the video of his body being removed.

She said the cost of solitary is the trauma the family has experienced, along with the lawsuits, investigation and broken communities, and at the end of the day, taxpayers are being asked to pay for all of it.

“We are pouring millions into a system that tortures instead of treats,” she said, “and families like mine are left paying the ultimate price.”

Regarding the cost of operating solitary, Akbar noted that prisons have to assign more correctional officers (COs) for supervision there because they are considered more dangerous areas, which also raises the cost.

Rep. Clancy said he is against solitary and the ultimate goal should be to ban it outright, but a more attainable goal is proposed legislation that would restrict solitary to 10 days and require 15 hours a week of programming while in solitary to ensure there are visits by people.

“When you talk to people at the DOC and they say, ‘Well, we looked at your legislation, it is onerous. There’s no way we’re going to be able to do that.’ We’re like,‘Great, then don’t put people in solitary.’”

He added, “Please understand that the goal here is to end solitary, but it’s also to bring to people’s minds the real harm from it.”

Rep. Madison said he grew up with a friend who went to prison and was put in solitary, and when his friend got out he still struggled with isolation. One time, the friend wasn’t able to contact Madison and then attempted suicide but didn’t die.

“I was reminded that it is our correctional system that creates the conditions where folks, even when they are released into the community, feel locked up,” he said.

“We simply incarcerate too many people,” said Roys.  She added the goal should be to ensure public safety, not incarcerate people who don’t pose a threat. 

“If we actually want public safety, then we need to change the way we are thinking about that time when people are incarcerated, and it really should be that time that they are building their skills so that they are going to see that they can thrive, and that is why we need to be fostering relationships,” she said.

She also said there needs to be reform of the Truth-in-Sentencing law that is leading to longer prison stays without parole, resulting in more people in prison, and also reforming community supervision to change  a “gotcha” attitude — finding technical violations of those on extended supervision that would send them back to prison, instead of  focusing on helping people succeed in the community.

“If our parole officers, probation officers (POs) viewed their role as facilitating success, and they judged themselves not by how many people would get reincarcerated, but by how many people succeed and never have to be reincarcerated, that’s transformational, and you don’t necessarily need statutes to do that. You absolutely do need a strong will and strong leadership from the top director who says what we are doing.”

Hong said more could be done through executive orders and the governor’s clemency power to grant pardons. She also said she would like to invest more to hire social and mental health workers.

“The more helpers that we have in an institution, the fewer enforcers we need in that same institution,” Clancy said. 

“We have to stop saying that our jails and prisons are understaffed,” he added. “They are not understaffed. They are overpopulated.”

Clancy also said the DOC should pay mental health staff as much, or more, as it does  guards, to help hire and retain staff.

Women in solitary

During a panel discussion on women in solitary, Juli Bliefnick said that after she was assaulted inside  a prison while eating lunch, she was placed in solitary for six days, and during that time she had her monthly period, but male guards didn’t allow her to shower or have clean clothes. She had a similar experience in a county jail.

“That’s some of the most dehumanizing experiences of my whole life,” she said.

In another jail, Bliefnick witnessed a friend who was eight months pregnant put in a cell and stripped naked to look for drugs as the friend screamed.

“You can even move from that environment for decades, and you can still dream about it,” she said.  “You can still think about it like til this day, like I can hear jingling keys, and I’ll still get like, you know, like a fear of like a guard coming to, you know, harass me about something or another, and it’s a terrifying thing because I’m not there anymore. You know, your brain tricks you into thinking that you are. You carry it with you no matter how long you’ve been removed from it.”

Jessica Jacobs, who has not been incarcerated for eight years, still said she is traumatized by her time in solitary.

“Various times I’ve been incarcerated, being stuck in a room like that kind of did something different to me that maybe other people might not understand,” said Jacobs, “but so I had post traumatic stress disorder already, and then the amount of treatment that I had to suffer and go through while I was incarcerated has made it worse. And so I find myself today, sometimes where I get overwhelmed or stimulated, I know my nervous system is out of whack, where I feel like I have to close myself up into my room, and that’s kind of weird, you know, and I feel like I have to lock myself up, and I just don’t even try to figure out what it is. I know that it’s connected to that.”

Jacobs said she remembers being locked up with a 17-year-old girl who had been sex-trafficked by her father, and the girl was missing her babies and was distraught and wanted mental health services, but Jacobs cautioned against it, knowing that seeking those services often meant being sent to solitary or being restricted to a chair.

“And the next thing I know, they hauled her off and stuffed her in solitary confinement by herself,” said Jacobs. “And then came the big banging and the cries began.”

Yolanda Perkins said her mother was in prison for 17 years and spent time in solitary, and that time changed her mother permanently.

“My mother hasn’t been incarcerated in about 20 years, but she won’t go into a room by herself,” said Perkins, adding, “It affects how she grandparents her grandchildren. It affects her communication with them. It affects her communication with society. And so she still struggles.”

Bliefnick spoke about her work with the Ostara Initiative, working with doulas to end the practice of putting pregnant and postpartum women in solitary for protective custody.

“Punishing women who are in that condition is actually a common practice,” she said, “and I mean, can you think of anything worse than putting a woman who just had a baby and had it ripped away from [her getting] 24 hours in solitary confinement like that? That’s like a horrible practice to begin with. It’s like they treat them like cattle, and then to put them in solitary confinement for their protection is like the cruelest thing that you could possibly imagine.”

This story has been updated to fix the photo captions identifying Jen Ann Bauer and Megan Hoffman Kolb

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Wisconsin Department of Correction Secretary Jared Hoy was one of the keynote speakers at the EXPO gala.

Jared Hoy, Secretary of the Wisconsin Department of Corrections, offered something the crowd gathered to celebrate Ex-Incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO)  could relate to – a confession, followed by a commitment to do better.

“I don’t think we’ve done a very good job of engaging with people who are receiving our services, friends and family,” Hoy said in a speech at the EXPO gala Oct. 11 at the Monona Terrace Community and Convention Center in Madison, explaining the reason for conducting Friends and Family Forums between DOC management and the public.

Hoy, one of two keynote speakers during the “EXPOnential” gala, expressed the aim of overcoming challenges confronted by people caught up in the carceral system, including several honorees at the event who had served time in prison, some still on community supervision, including a woman working on becoming a certified peer counselor, a former Iraq war vet and practicing lawyer from Eau Claire, and a newly appointed official for Milwaukee.

EXPO is a non-profit advocacy group in Wisconsin that works to end mass incarceration, dismantle structural discrimination and restore formerly incarcerated people to community life. It’s largely staffed by the formerly incarcerated, including its executive director, Jerome Dillard, who explained the theme of the gala.

The term exponential, he said, is  “not just a gala name, but it’s a map of mercy and it’s an algorithm of potential. An exponent takes a small number and it raises it and turns it into two, into many and sparks into a skyline. And that’s what Wisconsin EXPO is. It’s organizing with formerly incarcerated neighbors to restore rights.”

Marianne Oleson, operations director for EXPO, noted the Beth Israel Center, a conservative synagogue in Madison, was receiving the Ally Organization of the Year recognition for its “shared love” with EXPO’s goals.

“Beth Israel has opened their doors so that we can gather, learn and share our truth with the community, but their generosity extends far beyond the walls of their synagogue,” said Oleson. “They have opened their homes and they have opened their hearts to us. They share their wisdom, compassion, creativity. in so many ways that remind us what true allyship looks like. They give our state residents rides, share the incredible gifts of art, and they bring us homemade lasagna.”

Deandrea “Dee” Hardman received the Woman of the Year recognition. Hardman said before going to prison she had made many bad decisions, living on the streets, surrounded by people who took advantage of her, and burning bridges with people in her life, so that when she left the chaos of her life for prison, she actually felt free.

“Going to prison disrupted my tormented cycle,” she said. “It was the first time I felt like I had an option to choose a different life. I had every opportunity that came my way to grow and change.”

In prison she became a certified welder and participated in work release, and even though she was surrounded by others who didn’t want to change their behavior from the street, she chose differently.

She said being able to reenter society in the EXPO Safe House helped her succeed outside of prison.

“I came home and worked extremely hard, but it was not solely my hard work that got me here — It was my sisters who supported me in the home and everyone who works within the organization,” she said. “For the first time in my life, I was leaving an institution not alone, but with an entire team of people behind me who wanted to help me and have absolutely nothing but the best for me.”

Hardman noted that she had just received her certification to become a peer support specialist and her aim was to share her experience with others to overcome the trauma of addiction and imprisonment.

Man of the Year David Carlson said Expo was one of the first organizations that helped him gain a “foothold” and “get traction in rebuilding my life after re-entry.”

His wife, Alicia Carlson, said her husband was identified by  the number “558672” when he was serving time in prison, but recently he had obtained another number, “1138342,” his state bar license number to practice law in Wisconsin.

“He stepped out of a system that had silenced him and set out on a mission to make people listen, and just as important to make sure that those around him, especially those who’ve been overlooked, blocked out, written off, were seen and heard too,” she said.

Of the two numbers identifying her husband, she said, one reminded him of what it was like to be silenced and the other “gives him a platform to make sure others never are.”

Carlson described the initiatives  her husband launched since he left prison, including a peer support agency with 80 mentors operating in 30 western Wisconsin counties

Carlson, who is now the Justice Forward Wisconsin Coalition coordinator, noted he was sentenced after serving a second tour in Iraq in the military. While in the Stanley Correctional Facility, he had the opportunity to leave early under the earned release program, but he was a self-described  “hothead” who probably was going to serve his whole sentence until a mentor, a fellow resident, saw his potential.

“Instead of seeing me as a dumb, young hothead, he really took me time to mentor me,” Carlson said. “I think mentorship is a key theme in my life and my success in what I have accomplished.”

The Justice Forward Wisconsin Coalition, he said, is a network of “justice-impacted individuals mentoring each other and advocating for each other.”

He said the work needs to be led by those who have experienced incarceration.

“But if you’ve never felt what it feels like to be by yourself in solitary confinement, if you’ve never felt what it feels like to be a teenager in solitary confinement missing your mom, if you’ve never felt what it feels like to be treated and dehumanized after a visit, strip searched, told to bend over and cough — like, these types of things never go away,” he said. “I’m 10 years out, and it never goes away. I’m a lawyer, and it never goes away… I think that it’s time that individuals that have those experiences lead the way, and that’s what this coalition is about.”

Adam Procell, the new director of Community Wellness and Safety for the City of Milwaukee, a position that aims to prevent and reduce violence through community partnerships, received the Ramiah Whiteside Changemaker recognition.

Procell said on the first day of his new position he went back to the site where 35 years earlier, at age 15, when he was a gang member, he had killed 18-year-old Robert Bruce.

“Day One of my job, I went and started at the scene of my crime because I knew I was going to have to ask others to lean into uncomfortable situations,” said Procell, “So I can’t ask the community to lean into uncomfortability unless I take my two feet to be the most uncomfortable place on the face of this Earth, which is where Robert lost his life.”

Procell said there was much pressure on him to succeed and he admitted that he needed help and encouragement. He said others should also be honest about their struggles, adding that “transformation is never born in isolation – It rises from connections.” 

“It wasn’t punishment that changed me. It was the love and hope that I got when I came into this community that made a huge difference, and it changed me,” Procell said.

Hoy talks about changing the DOC culture

During his keynote speech, Hoy noted that in one of his early training sessions at the DOC, he participated in an exercise for recruits in which they were asked whether they perceived themselves as different from those they would be supervising or the same, and he perceived himself as the same.

“And that always stuck with me, because fundamentally I don’t see myself at all different than any people that are being sentenced to Wisconsin DOC,”  he said. 

Hoy said he was challenged by Procell to talk to those receiving services from the DOC to see how effective those services were.

Hoy said he told his staff that they would sit in a room with members of the community to listen.

“It’s just to hear how our policies, how our decisions, impact the lives of not only the people that we care for, provide services to, but their friends and family, and it’s probably been one of the best things that I’ve done since I started,” he said.

Hoy thought the forums would be opportunities to educate the public as well as providing feedback to the DOC.

“I think we are benefiting more by just being there and listening and understanding that the folks across the table and in those small groups are human beings just like us,” he said. “After the first forum, I sat at a table, after just about everybody left with a warden, and I won’t out him, but he was in tears and talked about how much his decisions impact not just people in our care, but their families and their systems. That is culture change.”

Hoy said recommendations are being generated to change the operation of the DOC, but what is more fundamentally important to him is the department’s culture.

“If we don’t make sure to address the culture and how we treat people, making sure that everything we do is treating people with dignity and respect, it’s not going to matter if we bring the overhead time from 35 days on average down to 20 or whatever it might be,” he said.

He noted that those working in maximum security prisons and restrictive housing settings often experience aggression by residents, including bodily fluids thrown at correctional officers.

“I get a lot of pushback when I say, not letting anybody off the hook for it, but what are the conditions that we are creating that make it OK for a human being to do that to another human being?” He said. “That’s the culture that we have to address, and it’s not everywhere. I’m not up here to completely bash DOC. I mean, I’ll tell it like it is, but there are pockets [needing change].”

Hoy also asked for understanding on the difficulty of making changes in an organization with 10,000 staff, 70,000 in community supervision and over 23,000 incarcerated.

“There’s going to be challenges; there’s going to be gaps,” he said of the DOC. But he asked for understanding for the thousands of people who  work for  DOC “who  “are trying to help change lives.”

National effort

The last keynote speaker of the evening was David Ayala, executive director of the national organization of The Formerly Incarcerated Convicted People and Families Movement, a network of over 60 organizations.

Ayala talked about the work of EXPO as part of a national movement that centers leadership by the people directly affected by the carceral system, narrative story-telling,  fighting for systemic change and creating infrastructure for reentry.

He stressed the importance of telling success stories like Carlson’s journey to obtaining his law degree.

“We need to lift up stories like that,” he said, “… there are many Davids across this country.”

Ayala encouraged EXPO to work across state lines with similar organizations.

“You’re not alone,” he told the group.  “You are part of a rich, resilient national web — a movement that believes freedom is not just a word, but a living horizon where every person returning home is met with care, dignity, and possibilities.”

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Jerome Dillard, executive director of Ex-Incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO) (left) holds book discussion with author and activist Bianca Tylek (right). (Photo by Isiah Holmes/Wisconsin Examiner)

“We’re talking about a major, major industry in our society today,” activist and writer Bianca Tylek told a group of about 20 people who packed a room at Madison’s Lake City Books Monday night. At the Q&A and book signing event, hosted by Ex-Incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO), Tylek — described as a leading expert in the prison industry — discussed her new book The Prison Industry: How It Works and Who Profits, offering her insights into what she called a $80-90 billion industry in America. 

“This is just a massive industry of folks who are using the correctional system to essentially extract either wealth or resources either from public coffers, or from low-income … communities that are directly impacted by incarceration,” said Tylek, who also founded and leads the non-profit organization Worth Rises, which works to confront and reform the prison industry. Tylek’s book delves into multiple aspects of the prison industry from food distribution to telecommunications and examines privatization, who profits and the lives of the people who are directly affected. 

The discussion was moderated by Jerome Dillard, EXPO’s executive director, who sat beside Tylek asking  questions. Dillard called Tylek “my daughter in the movement,” and spoke of his admiration for her work and her spirit in fighting for change within the prison system. 

Dillard described attending an event in Appleton last week with Tylek where he was invited to receive an award, “not knowing what we were going into,” and realizing it was a Wisconsin Correctional Association conference. 

“I just couldn’t believe all the industries that were there with tables, and tabling the event with new devices and all this,” said Dillard. “I left there really broken and heavy. These conferences opened my eyes to how big this industry is … that individuals are capitalizing on human misery.” Conference tables displayed new kinds of spit masks and shock gloves to prospective correctional customers, some of whom made joking comments about using the devices on the job. “It just blew me away, you know, that she’s bragging about punishing and torturing people in their care,” said Dillard, recalling a woman who made such remarks. 

Tylek said that there are over 1,400 manufacturers of correctional and policing equipment nationwide. “Every single state has a correctional conference,” said Tylek. “Every single state has a sheriff’s association,” as well as conferences and associations dedicated to jails, parole and other aspects of the correctional system. Tylek recalled attending the American Correctional Association conference, one of the largest in the nation, where she saw an exhibit hall “with hundreds of corporations” with their own exhibit tables. 

“And not just tables,” Tylek told the crowd. “Probably the wildest thing I saw was one company drive a full bus into the convention center, where staff from correctional institutions could step onto the bus and play with all the equipment and trinkets that they were selling. And they gave out free raffle tickets and all these things, and probably the grossest thing that I experienced was all the tickets to private events. And I made my way up to a private event for Securus.” Tylek said that the company is one of the nation’s two largest prison telecommunication companies, and was one of the largest sponsors of the conference that year. “And they had a happy hour that involved a full open bar,” said Tylek, “a full swing dance performance, everyone just having the most joyous time of all. All while on the walls there were the kiosks, the tablets, the phone devices that you could go and speak to a Securus representative while you have your cocktail. And all of this built on about 2 million people who are sitting in a cage somewhere who will never see this, who don’t get to enjoy these luxuries in any of this. It’s heartbreaking, and it’s repulsive, I think, more than anything.”

Later, Tylek elaborated more on how companies use things like gifts and luxury vacations to grow their relationships with correctional and law enforcement leaders. “At conferences, you would get these private event tickets,” she said. At one such event, she recalled, attendees were given hand-rolled cigars. “That’s just the legal stuff that looks gross,” said Tylek. There are also “questionably legal” practices, such as offering “training cruises” in the Caribbean for prison and sheriff staff in brochures distributed during contract bidding processes. 

On the dark end of the spectrum is bribery, such as the case of a Mississippi prison commissioner who was involved in a bribery and kickback scheme with private prison companies. Tylek highlighted how in Mississippi, a prison commissioner went on to work for a private prison company as a lobbyist. Similar revolving doors exist between the prison industry, especially private prisons, Homeland Security and immigration agencies, said Tylek.

Tylek described the rise of  the prison industry as a relatively new phenomenon in America. Prior to the abolition of slavery, she said, the prison population was predominantly white, and only shifted to being predominantly Black in the decades after abolition — a move  to “re-confine and re-enslave” Black people. Prison populations continued to grow into the 1970s and 80s, leading into the War on Drugs. “Really around the 1980s is when you start to see industry recognize a potential opportunity,” said Tylek. 

That’s the  era during which most of the private prison companies featured in her book began to emerge. Private prison industry representatives helped craft some of the nation’s most punitive laws such as three-strikes laws, truth in sentencing and mandatory minimums, which helped grow the prison population. “Those three pieces of model legislation were drafted by the prison industry, and specifically by private prison executives,” said Tylek. 

The consequences have been devastating for individuals and families, and also ripple out into society. “The impact of the prison industry bleeds far beyond prison walls,” Tylek said. Among those ripple effects are the cost borne by families that put money on the books for incarcerated loved ones to have food and hygiene supplies or simply to communicate, incarcerated people who work long hours for 14 cents an hour on average, missed child support payments from incarcerated parents and victims who don’t receive restitution. In addition, many small towns which once saw prisons as economic saviors now see them as burdens. 

“In the end, all of us are impacted,” said Tylek. “When we exploit people who are incarcerated, or we have a system that wants to put more people behind bars and for longer because a few stand to benefit, then socially we are all harmed by that.” 

Yet a space ripe with so many problems also invites solutions. In several states, Tylek has been involved in movements to make phone calls to incarcerated people free and in more than one of those places, that effort succeeded. “Something that everyone can understand is what’s the importance of a phone call home,” Tylek told her bookstore audience. Families of incarcerated people often face significant financial challenges, including debt, income loss and unemployment. 

In 2017, Tylek began to focus on the prison telecommunications industry. “We led the first successful campaign to make communication completely free in a jail system,” said Tylek. That was in New York, and affected the infamous Rikers Island jail. From 2019 to 2023, Tylek’s organization Worth Rises pushed for free jail calls in San Francisco, San Diego, Los Angeles, Massachusetts, free prison calls in Connecticut, California, Colorado, Minnesota. Free prison calls were enshrined in the CARES Act as a result of that work. “We’ve been able to save families $600 million to date,” Tylek said, “and generate over 3 billion additional call minutes between people who are incarcerated and their loved ones.”

Dillard recalled celebrating some of those victories with Tylek, but the fight continues. “We’re in a dozen more states trying to fight for the exact same legislation to make communication free in our prisons and jails,” said Tylek. “The outcomes that we get are life-changing. In Connecticut we saw phone volume increase by over 120% overnight. In New York just recently, first data’s coming back and we are north of 40% increases in calling.” Some of that difference is also due to inconsistent call rates across different states, with incarcerated people being charged 2.8 cents per minute in New York versus people in Connecticut who were paying 32.5 cents per minute. 

“No matter where it happens, the change is substantial,” said Tylek. “These are real people with real lives. We have talked to families whose autistic child stopped speaking when her father went to prison. And when phone calls became free and he could call home again she started speaking again, her child development changed, she started engaging more in school, and now she’s flourishing, all off a simple phone call.”

Those kinds of victories can be replicated elsewhere. A campaign was launched earlier this year to make jail calls free in Racine County, and La Crosse became the first Wisconsin county to provide free jail calls earlier this year. 

“What I love about the examples in Wisconsin is that we had nothing to do with them,” Tylek said, drawing laughter from the audience in Madison. “My biggest goal has been for this movement to take itself.” 

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