The Wisconsin State Senate passed a bill last week that will request funding for health care coverage for incarcerated people from the federal government. State Assembly lawmakers had already passed the bill last month. 

In a Facebook post last week, Sen. Jesse James (R-Thorp) celebrated the measure and said he hopes Gov. Tony Evers will sign it into law. 

James said that “as people leave our correctional system, they have a 40 TIMES higher risk of overdose death within the first TWO weeks after release.” This appeared to be a reference to a North Carolina study of opioid overdose death rates between 2000 and 2015. 

“This bill is a great step forward for Wisconsin as it ensures we become a healthier, safer community,” James said.  

The vote was nearly unanimous, with only Sen. Steve Nass (R-Whitewater) voting no. 

A federal “inmate exclusion policy” limits incarcerated people’s ability to use Medicaid, but the bill seeks to have the state apply for a waiver under an exception outlined by the federal government. 

Under the bill, the state’s Department of Health Services would submit a request to conduct a demonstration project to provide 90 days of prerelease coverage to incarcerated people for case management services, medication-assisted treatment for all types of substance use disorders and a 30-day supply of prescription medications. Incarcerated people would have to be otherwise eligible for coverage under the Medical Assistance program, which provides health services to people with limited financial resources.  

The advocacy organization WISDOM celebrated the Senate’s passage of the bill in an email newsletter signed by Mark Rice, the group’s transformational justice campaign coordinator. 

Rice said that full implementation of the bill would reduce needless suffering and the number of people being detained, benefit public safety, save resources and put more people on a path to successful reentry into society. 

In written testimony dated Oct. 31, director Dawn Buchholz of the Juneau County Department of Health Services said that passing the bill “will help us provide crucial services to inmates reentering our communities.”

“In the past, our agency literally completed hundreds of suicide and other behavioral health assessments for inmates experiencing emergency mental health and substance use crises in the Juneau County Jail,” Buchholz testified. “This was a frustrating process because while we can assess inmates, we cannot provide them with mental health or substance abuse treatment due to Medicaid rules.”

Buchholz testified that providing prerelease coverage to incarcerated people, along with a 30-day supply of prescription medications, “will help our agency work more effectively with our jails and prisons, result in a seamless reentry into community behavioral health services and decrease recidivism.”

DOC communications director Beth Hardtke referred the Examiner to the DOC fiscal estimate for information on what the agency is currently able to provide and the potential impact of the legislation. 

The department estimated it may have over $750,000 in potential cost savings if the waiver is approved and implemented, allowing the state to expand health care access for incarcerated people. 

The Examiner reported last month that in the fiscal estimate, the DOC said that in FY 2025, the agency spent $500,000 on the 30-day medication supply dispensed for incarcerated people before they were released, $300,000 on pre-release medication assisted treatment medications and $3.9 million on the Opening Avenues to Reentry Success (OARS) program. The OARS program supports the transition from prison to the community of incarcerated people living with a severe and persistent mental illness who are at medium-to-high risk of reoffending. 

Because not all incarcerated people will qualify, the estimate assumes that half of the medication and medication assisted treatment medications costs will be reimbursed, as well as 10% of the OARS program costs. There may be other costs DOC can have reimbursed. 

The Examiner previously reported that states have to reinvest federal matching funds received for carceral health care services currently funded with state or local dollars. 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. 

In the fiscal estimate, the DOC said that incarcerated people in local detention facilities may also be eligible for the services. This could result in local cost savings in addition to DOC cost savings. The department couldn’t estimate the potential local cost savings of the bill because not all local detention facilities provide the same type or level of services.  

Hardtke noted that the bill only allows the state to apply for the federal waiver, and it isn’t guaranteed that a waiver would be approved. 

As of Nov. 21, 19 states had approved waivers, according to the health policy research organization KFF. Nine, including the District of Columbia, had pending waivers. 

In an email to the Examiner in November, the Wisconsin Department of Health Services said the bill requires the three services that the waiver would need to include to be submitted to the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services. The bill doesn’t require other criteria for the project, aside from current Medicaid eligibility requirements. 

Beyond those requirements, the department said it needs the authority that the bill would provide before it starts work on putting together the details of the waiver. The bill requires the department to submit the request for a waiver by Jan. 1, 2027. 

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Dennis Simmons didn’t expect that a regular visit to his probation officer would end in his arrest, and the prospect of being sent to prison. After a life spent in and out of the criminal justice system, Simmons was employed and trying to avoid trouble. “When I came in they arrested me and told me that I was being charged with robbery, battery, and carjacking,” the 28-year-old told Wisconsin Examiner, recalling that day in April 2025. “The detectives never came and questioned me to ask nothing, they just ended up charging me with it.”

Simmons learned that he was being accused of assaulting a man and stealing his car. But his attempts to explain that he had proof that the accusations were false fell on deaf ears, Simmons said. Instead, his probation agent planned on moving forward with revoking  Simmons’ release anyway. 

Had that happened, Simmons would have been among the over 8,100 people sent back to prison in 2025, according to Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC) data. When you’re one of the over 64,000 Wisconsinites who are on probation or parole in Wisconsin, an unproven accusation is one of numerous things that can send you back to prison. Probation and parole agents wield immense power over their clients’ futures. 

Simmons told his agent, Laquisha Booker, that his accuser was the subject of a no-contact order with his mother due to a domestic violence case. The accusation against Simmons was false, he told her,   because there was video showing the man violating that no-contact order by arriving at his mother’s home in the very car Simmons’ had been accused of stealing, and attempting to break down the door. Simmons’ uncle, he said, fought the man off. 

“It don’t show me on the camera at all,” Simmons told the Wisconsin Examiner. Booker told the family to send her the footage, but then “acted like she never got the video,” said Simmons. “Well, she kept pushing forward with revocation the whole time. My uncle came in and gave her a statement, let her know what happened, that he was the one that got into the fight with him. And mom sent the video. Mom gave a statement and let them know what happened. My grandma gave a statement. And she still pushed forward with revocation.” 

Fighting against the stream of incarceration

Facing over five years imprisonment, Simmons was shocked and confused by Booker’s push to send him back. “How can you still go through with it?” He asked. “You got evidence showing that it ain’t true. And she, like, ‘Well, I’m pushing forward with revocation.” Simmons wanted to fight the revocation, but knew that it wouldn’t be easy to beat. For months he sat in the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility, a facility which held 637 people while Simmons was there in April 2025 despite only being designed to hold 418.  

Simmons found the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility  to be in a dire state. “They be short staff a lot, you know, so we be pretty much in the room all day,” Simmons told the Examiner. He recalled that people were let out of their rooms twice a day for a little  over an hour. 

“It’s kind of rough in there,” said Simmons. “So we pretty much in the room all day. Come out for a little bit. When you come out, you work out, get in the shower, and then try to make your phone calls, try to get everything did that you got to get did. Then you go back in the room. So it’s pretty much a stressful environment just being in there. Because you be in the room all day thinking, especially if you in there for something that you didn’t do and then you nervous. Like, I was actually kind of scared even though I didn’t do anything, like, they have my back against the wall so I’m like ‘five years, nine months, I got to fight it.’ But they like, ‘If  you lose you could get the whole seven years. And 90% of the people lose here.’ So I’m like, should I take a deal for something that I didn’t do?”

The people Simmons was housed with thought that would be his only option. “Everybody that been there for a while said that’s how it works,” Simmons told the Examiner. “It was stressful.” 

Prior to his final revocation hearing in September 2025, attorney May Lee — of the Lee Law Firm — intervened on Simmons’ behalf. In emails Lee shared with the Examiner, Booker  claimed that the videos sent by Simmons’ mother couldn’t be opened. “I emailed her back and told her to forward the videos to my supervisor,” Booker emailed Lee. “She never did. I won’t be using the videos in the rev hearing.” 

Lee shot back that Dennis’ mother had sent the videos “to your agency a total of three times, including once to your supervisor. She was unaware that you or your supervisor were unable to open the files and she is now locked out of her iCloud account, requiring Apple’s assistance to access those videos again.” Lee continued preparing for the revocation hearing, asking Booker to share the videos with her so she could try to open them, and to provide a supervisor’s contact information.

During the revocation hearing, Simmons’ uncle testified that his nephew was innocent and it was  he who had engaged in the fight leading to the accusation of assault. The uncle also testified to having already given Booker a statement that exonerated Simmons. Booker admitted during the hearing that she had lost the uncle’s statement, something which Lee said contradicted what the probation agent had told her in the days leading up to the hearing. According to a DOC human resources bureau review of Booker’s conduct, Lee had been told by Booker that the uncle never came to give a statement. 

After the Sept. 10 hearing, Lee emailed Booker to demand that the allegations against Simmons be dismissed given what came out during the hearing. Lee also noted that Booker’s supervisor was able to access the videos which Booker claimed didn’t work.  “The information you know to be true does not support the allegations against Dennis,” Lee emailed Booker. “I am hopeful you will consider doing the right thing here. I look forward to hearing from you.” 

The next day Booker responded that after talking with her supervisor, “the department is not going to withdraw the allegations against Mr. Simmons and will continue with the revocation hearing.” Emails obtained by Wisconsin Examiner show Booker’s supervisor asked her about the conflict over the uncle’s statement. Booker said that Lee was misunderstanding what she said, “I told her I reached out to [the uncle], we spoke but he never came in to give a statement. So I can see how she’s thinking I said he never gave a statement at all.” 

Later that day, Lee again asked Booker for her supervisor’s contact information. Otherwise, she said, she’d have to go above their heads to a DOC regional chief “and outline the blatant misrepresentations” made about Simmons. “We are expected to uphold justice, and I provided an opportunity to rectify this situation,” Lee emailed Booker. “As you have chosen not to, I have no other option but to escalate this matter.” Lee then notified DOC Regional Chief Niel Thoreson about her concerns. 

 

 

By Sept. 15, Thoreson and Lee were emailing about finally releasing Simmons. Although another agent was supposed to be assigned to Simmons, when he was released it was Booker he met with to review the rules of his conditional release. “It is unacceptable that she was allowed to meet with him after she attempted to use her own lie to strip away another five years of his life to lock him up as if his human life holds no value,” Lee emailed Thoreson on Sept. 22. “This was egregious due to the already six months he spent in custody because of those allegations.” Lee added,  “what is going on over there??” 

The tables turned 

Simmons recalled his last interaction with Booker. “When I came to the office the day I was released, I was actually excited, at the very least I was happy, and then I seen her,” said Simmons, adding that Booker told him that this wouldn’t have happened if she’d received the videos and statement from his uncle, essentially reverting to her original claims. “I was like yeah, this is crazy,” said Simmons. 

Booker was later interviewed by the DOC human resources department. She was  new to her job,  having started in January 2025. During her HR  interview, Booker was asked whether she received a statement from Simmons’ uncle. “Yes sir,” she began. “Well let me rephrase that, I didn’t have to. [The uncle] reached out to me and said he wanted to make a statement.” Booker said that he came to the office and that she gave him paper to write the statement. “I did not sit there and take his statement personally, but I did get a statement from him that he turned in to the front desk.” 

She went on to say, “I am being completely honest. From the time that reception told me that the statement is ready to pick up, I don’t remember if I went to get the statement from him or not or if I grabbed it and misplaced it sometime after that.” Booker said that she couldn’t recall whether she actually read the statement, or even if she’d picked the statement up from the desk. The statement wasn’t included in the packet prepared for Simmons’ revocation hearing because according to Booker, she didn’t have it. 

Booker denied telling Lee that she never took a statement from the uncle, but said that she admitted in court to having lost his statement. Booker couldn’t remember at what point she first realized she’d lost it, however. When asked during the human resources interview whether she ever told attorney Lee about the uncle’s statement Booker said, “Yes…I can’t recall. I have had many conversations with her at that time.” Booker said that her supervisor had told her that “we are proceeding with rev no matter what.”  

She added that, “I realize I made a mistake and that I tried to correct that violation and I understand that I messed up. No matter what my [supervisor] was proceeding with rev and I am a new agent and I talked to her to get alternatives because I knew mom and grandma were testifying and I tried to do other things. That was my first revocation hearing and I don’t even know how revocations go and I don’t have any rapport with the client because he was arrested before I even knew him…I am a new agent and I don’t have any information on that process or how it went.” 

The DOC found that Booker had potentially violated rules regarding falsifying records, insubordination, and negligence. The report asserts that Booker was aware of the statement clearing Simmons of wrongdoing, but that she didn’t tell her supervisor, and declined Lee’s attempts to provide her with another written statement. The HR report adds that Booker “knowingly provided false information” to Lee regarding her ability to access video footage sent by Simmons’ mother, and the uncle’s statement. 

A DOC spokesperson said that Booker resigned in November during her disciplinary investigation. For the first seven weeks of her time at DOC, Booker would have participated in the DOC’s basic training for agents, which all agents must graduate before working with clients. The training is intended to provide agents with baseline and foundational skills to help agents navigate tasks, make decisions, and understand the DOC’s expectations. 

Crushed hopes and an uncertain future 

The entire ordeal was a major blow to Simmons’ ability to settle back into civilian life after serving a seven-year sentence. “You’re not even giving me a chance,” said Simmons, “and I’m showing you what’s going on.” 

Simmons told the Examiner that he’s tired of the revolving door to prison in his life. “I had a mindset of I’m tired of going to jail, I don’t want to be in prison no more,” Simmons told the Examiner. “I’ve been doing this my whole life, I’m going to try something different. Because the way I’ve been doing it keep getting me in trouble, it’s not working. So I want to try a way to stay up out. So when I get out and I decide that I’m not doing nothing that can put me back in prison, and try to stay away from it, and then I get locked up for something I didn’t do, it just make me feel like, ‘Man like, it’s hopeless. Should I just be back in the streets?” 

Simmons said the experience “crushed all the hope I had for even trying to do something the right way. Like…I ain’t understand it.” He told the Examiner that it’s important not to judge people solely based on what they did in the past. “That’s not who they are, that’s who they was,” said Simmons, recalling that he started getting into trouble when he was 13 years old. “I’ve been in and out since I was a kid,” he said. 

Growing up, Simmons said he didn’t have many positive role models around. “So basically if you grow up around people, if your whole family is involved in certain things and they teach you that the right thing to do is live the street life — be in the streets, sell drugs, do whatever in the streets — that’s what you’re going to grow up believing is the right thing to do,” he explained. “Now a lot of my family…They breaking the cycle of being in and out of prison. My dad started his own business. My auntie started her own business. Everybody is breaking the cycle from getting in trouble and going back to jail.” 

It took Simmons until his last prison sentence to decide he had to break the cycle. Before the experience with Booker, Simmons was working with his uncle and staying away from old friends and bad influences. But when he spoke to the Examiner, Simmons was being held at Milwaukee’s Community Reintegration Center, after being charged with firearms-related offenses in December for which he has yet to be convicted, and remains presumed innocent until proven guilty. If he beats this new case, Simmons hopes to transfer his probation to Texas where he has family, and leave Milwaukee behind. The DOC has recommended that his supervision be revoked. 

“I made some mistakes, I did some things in the past, made some bad decisions, and that made me who I am today,” said Simmons. “Everything I went through made me want to do better and be better.”

 

On Friday, lawmakers in the Wisconsin Assembly voted in favor of a bill seeking Medicaid coverage for people in Wisconsin prisons and jails. Supporters hope it will help recently incarcerated people avoid addiction and overdoses. 

Rep. Shelia Stubbs (D-Madison) said her experience working for the Wisconsin Department of Corrections has given her firsthand knowledge about the impact AB 604 will have. She said it will improve access to treatment and case management and ease the financial burden on justice-involved Wisconsinites. 

The bill would give incarcerated people a greater chance of maintaining sobriety and preventing overdose after release from prison, Stubbs said. After a Minnesota study about the causes of death of recently incarcerated people, researcher Tyler Winkelman said that “substance use is clearly the main driver of death after release from both jail and prison.”

Medicaid is prohibited from paying for services provided during incarceration, barring some exceptions involving inpatient services or an eligible juvenile under 21 years old. The National Association of Counties published a toolkit critical of the “inmate exclusion policy,” arguing in part that it unfairly revokes federal health benefits from people who are being detained prior to trial and have not been found guilty.  

The bill would pursue a path offered by the federal government that allows for a partial waiver of the policy. 

The proposal directs the Department of Health Services to request a waiver to conduct a demonstration project; 19 states have approved waivers and nine states including Washington D.C. have pending waivers, as of November 21. 

A waiver would allow for prerelease health care coverage under the Medical Assistance program, which provides health services to people with limited finances, for up to 90 days before release of an eligible incarcerated person. Coverage would be provided for case management services, medication-assisted treatment for all types of substance use disorders and a 30-day supply of prescription medications. 

The bill garnered support from lawmakers from both parties and from WISDOM and EX-Incarcerated People Organizing, groups that advocate for incarcerated people. 

The Assembly’s vote to seek the coverage for incarcerated people comes on the heels of its vote to accept a federal expansion of Medicaid coverage for women for one year after they give birth. 

For the waiver, if the state seeks federal Medicaid coverage for services that are currently funded with state or local dollars, the state has to reinvest any savings in state or local funds. Savings would be invested in programs to increase access to or improve the quality of health care for incarcerated people. 

In the Department of Corrections fiscal estimate, the DOC said that in fiscal year 2025, the agency spent $500,000 on the 30-day medication supply dispensed for incarcerated people pre-release, $300,000 on pre-release medication assisted treatment medications and $3.9 million on the Opening Avenues to Reentry Success (OARS) program. The OARS program supports the transition from prison to the community of incarcerated people living with a severe and persistent mental illness who are at medium-to-high risk of reoffending. 

The agency estimated it may have over $750,000 in potential cost savings if the waiver is approved and implemented. 

Because not all incarcerated people will qualify, the estimate assumes that half of the medication supply and medication assisted treatment medications costs will be reimbursed, as well as 10% of the OARS program costs. There may be other costs DOC can have reimbursed.

AB 604 would require the Department of Health Services to submit the waiver request no later than Jan. 1, 2027. 

The bill now goes to the state Senate. Supporters of the bill include the Wisconsin Medical Society, the National Alliance on Mental Illness Wisconsin, the Medical College of Wisconsin and the Wisconsin Counties Association. 

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In the Wisconsin prison system, incarcerated mothers still lack a program that would allow physical custody of their children, a year after a court ruling affirmed that a state law requires the Department of Corrections to take steps to bring together incarcerated moms and babies. The ACLU is suing to try to force the issue.

Wisconsin statute 301.049 calls for a “mother-young child care program” allowing women to retain the physical custody of their children during participation in the program. It says a woman entering the program must either be pregnant or have a child less than a year old. 

Alyssa Puphal and Natasha Curtin-Weber are plaintiffs in the case against the Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC), and are represented by the American Civil Liberties Union of Wisconsin and Quarles & Brady LLP. 

While a judge sided with the plaintiffs last year, they are attempting to re-open the case, saying the DOC has not implemented the program required by law. 

“At this moment, each and every woman in DOC’s physical custody with a baby under one year old sleeps apart from her child every single night,” the Feb. 4 filing stated. 

Nine states have prison nursery programs, and a few others are considering or developing a program, Stateline reported in January. 

According to Wisconsin Public Radio, DOC communications director Beth Hardtke wrote in an email that because the Legislature turned down a budget request from Gov. Tony Evers to expand earned release to allow mothers to spend more time with their children outside of prison, the department is now being required to expand the mother-child program to include incarcerated mothers despite a lack of additional funding and of statutory changes that would allow more incarcerated women to take part.

DOC had previously argued that it was meeting the requirements of the 1991 statute by facilitating contact between babies and mothers on probation, extended supervision and parole. But a year ago, in February 2025, Dane County Circuit Court Judge Stephen Elkhe disagreed, ordering DOC to provide a mother-child program inside Wisconsin prisons.

“Reforming the criminal justice system to make our communities safer is a key priority of (Gov. Tony Evers’) administration and that includes corrections reforms such as a mother-young child program for incarcerated women,” Hardtke wrote, according to WPR. 

The ACLU motion called for remedial sanctions to get the agency to comply with the court order, including a daily fine for each day the contempt of court continues. The organization asked that the money from the fines be set aside to support the mother-child program, and claimed that a growing fine would ensure resources for the program. 

“With each month that passes, Defendants’ failure to act violates state law and violates the Writ,” the motion stated. 

When the lawsuit was filed in June 2024, Puphal had already given birth while incarcerated, while Curtin-Weber was pregnant. As of the filing of the lawsuit, their requests to participate in the mother-young program were refused or had not been responded to, according to a complaint published online by the ACLU. 

Puphal and Curtin-Weber were released on extended supervision last year, according to online DOC records. 

The state law enacted in 1991 states that the department shall provide the program for females who are prisoners or on probation, extended supervision or parole and who would participate as an alternative to revocation. 

When a person is released from prison to supervision, they must follow certain rules. If their supervision is revoked, the person will either be returned to court for sentencing or transported to a correctional institution. 

The department contended that it was in line with the law and that the word “or” in the statute indicated the agency could either provide the program for incarcerated mothers or for mothers on supervision.

DOC argued that it had a mother-child program for women on probation, extended supervision or parole who are pregnant or have a child under the age of one, and that it didn’t have to offer the program to incarcerated mothers. Wisconsin’s state budget includes $198,000 for a mother-young child program. 

Ehlke sided with the plaintiffs. He said they had established a clear right to be included in the class of people the department must consider for the mother-child program. 

The ACLU motion on Feb. 4 stated that the court had ordered the department to establish the program “forthwith,” or without delay, and  moved to reopen the case, arguing there has been “no meaningful progress” since that order despite three meetings between department representatives and counsel for the plaintiffs. 

“To avoid another year of excuses — or worse, another 35 years — Plaintiffs ask the Court to reopen this case for the purposes of enforcing the Court’s Writ,” the motion stated. 

The plaintiffs’ filing includes a letter and a list of questions sent to the Department of Corrections in December. It states that the Ostara Initiative offered to create a mother-young child care program for DOC at no cost to the agency in April 2024 and has continued to approach the agency. It described the Ostara Initiative as “a credible non-profit that DOC has already partnered with for other services.” 

The Examiner reached out to the Department of Corrections for a response to the plaintiffs’ filing, and also asked if the claims about Ostara were correct and if the department is planning to partner with Ostara on the program. Hardtke wrote that it is the department’s practice not to comment on ongoing litigation. 

A telephone scheduling conference in the case is scheduled for March 2. 

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• Prisoners say there aren’t nearly enough work release jobs to go around, and officials at the Department of Corrections say they’re not keeping count.

• Several neighboring states routinely track how many people have work release jobs or are eligible for them.

• One prisoner told Wisconsin Watch he believes less than a third of those eligible at his facility have work release jobs.

• Officials at the Wisconsin Department of Corrections say not everyone who is eligible for work release wants to work. Some are in education, therapy or substance use treatment programs that don’t allow them to work full time.

Most of the jobs available to Wisconsin prisoners are paid not in dollars, but cents. Minimum wage laws don’t apply behind bars, so some people scrub toilets for less than a quarter an hour.

But one type of job lets people leave prison for the day to earn the same wages as anyone else.

Wisconsin was the first state to offer this opportunity, known as work release. The century-old program matches the lowest-risk prisoners with approved employers, who are required by law to pay them as much as any other worker. In some cases, that’s more than $15 an hour. 

Through those jobs, prisoners boost their resumes, pay court costs and save up for their release. Employers find needed workers. And taxpayers save money, since work release participants must pay room and board. 

Ten of the state’s 16 minimum-security correctional centers are dedicated to work release. But prisoners at those facilities say there aren’t nearly enough of those jobs to go around, and officials at the Department of Corrections say they’re not keeping count.

One prisoner told Wisconsin Watch he believes less than a third of those eligible at his facility have such work release jobs. Prisoners routinely wait many months for the opportunity, he said, and many never get it at all. 

“Having that money saved up to, say, get an apartment or get furniture, or even money for transportation?” said Ben Kingsley, 47, who wrote to Wisconsin Watch in August from Winnebago Correctional Center, a work release center in Oshkosh. “These guys know what’s at stake … They want to go out to work.” 

Only prison officials can add more positions, and he questions whether they’re trying. This summer, he began lobbying prison officials and lawmakers to expand the opportunity.

“The DOC/State employees are doing the bare minimum in trying to put more people out to work,” he wrote to legislators in October.

Work release jobs are scarce, prisoners say

To qualify for work release in Wisconsin, a prisoner must be classified in the lowest custody level (“community custody”) and have permission from prison officials. In some states, eligible prisoners search for jobs on their own and can work in any role that meets Department of Corrections standards. In Iowa, for example, work release participants are barred from bartending or working in massage parlors. 

In Wisconsin, prison officials hold the cards. Here, people approved for work release can work only for one of the Department of Corrections’ partner employers.

“Placements cannot be guaranteed for all eligible inmates,” reads Winnebago Correctional Center’s official webpage. “Work release and offsite opportunities are a privilege, not a right, and are provided at the discretion of the center superintendent and warden.”

About 70% of eligible people incarcerated at Winnebago don’t have work release jobs, Kingsley estimates. 

Kingsley, who hopes to qualify for work release after his custody status is reevaluated next year, said he began advocating for more jobs after hearing from eligible prisoners waiting to be “put out to work.”

To find out how many people were working, he asked prisoners who work as drivers, shuttling work release participants to and from their jobs. 

Of the 295 people incarcerated at Winnebago at the end of October, 224 had the lowest custody status, which is required for work release, according to the Department of Corrections. By Kingsley’s calculations, just 67 have work release jobs. That’s less than one in three. 

“Oh gosh, it’s a huge concern,” Kingsley said.

Officials offer explanations. Not everyone who’s eligible wants a work release job, said Department of Corrections spokesperson Beth Hardtke. Some are in education, therapy or substance use treatment programs that don’t allow them to work full time. And those who seek work release must first work at least 90 days in a prison job, followed by a stint on a “project crew” supervised by Corrections staff, before getting permission from the warden or superintendent.

“The capacity of the work release program is not just about the number of jobs available,” Hardtke said when asked whether the department is looking to add more jobs. “The program must be limited to the number of individuals that DOC staff can safely support and in settings where we can safely support them.” As Wisconsin Watch has previously reported, the Department of Corrections has been plagued by crippling staff shortages in recent years.

Additionally, Hardtke said, some can’t do manual labor. “Some individuals may not meet the employer requirements or standards, and some individuals may not have the level of training or skills necessary to complete certain tasks or jobs … As the prison population ages, some individuals may not be able to succeed in those types of work or have an interest in doing work that can have a physical toll.”

Officials and prisoners tout benefits

Work release got its start in 1913 when the Huber Law, named for Progressive Republican lawmaker Henry Allen Huber, created the opportunity at Wisconsin’s county jails. It later spread to state prisons and to nearly every state in the country. 

More than a century later, Wisconsin prison leaders continue to extol the virtues of letting people leave prison and return at the end of their shifts.

“Work release gives the men and women in our care the opportunity to feel like they belong to something, to feel like they’re part of a positive contribution to the community, to feel like they belong in the workplace,” said Sarah Cooper, then-administrator of the Division of Adult Institutions, at a virtual presentation for prospective employers in 2022.

Research suggests people who participate in work release programs are less likely to return to prison. A study of former prisoners in Illinois from 2016 to 2021 found those who had held work release jobs were about 15% less likely to be rearrested and 37% less likely to be reincarcerated.  

“Work release really is a significant part of keeping our community safe,” Cooper said.

Work release also offsets some of the taxpayer costs of imprisonment. Each participating prisoner must pay $750 a month for room and board, about 20% of the roughly $3,650 a month the state pays to incarcerate each prisoner in the minimum-security system. They must also use their wages to make any legally mandated payments, including child support and victim restitution.

In 2010, for example, 1,726 work release prisoners collectively paid more than $2 million in room, board and travel costs; more than $320,000 in child support and more than $350,000 in court-ordered payments, according to a department report. 

Work release jobs aren’t without controversy. In Alabama, a 2024 investigation by the Associated Press revealed prisoners were being pressured to work and faced retribution if they refused. Some were denied parole, despite working for years in fast-food restaurants and other jobs in the community. Critics argue the program is a modern version of the post-Civil War practice of convict leasing, in which prisons rented incarcerated people out for forced labor. 

In many states, including Wisconsin, work release participants aren’t classified as employees and don’t have all the same workplace rights. But advocates for incarcerated workers told the AP that many people behind bars want to work and that eliminating the program would only hurt them.

For men in Wisconsin prisons, work release jobs are usually in manufacturing. For women, there are jobs in food service or cosmetology too. They’re “low-level, intensive labor jobs,” Kingsley said, but people are eager for the chance to start saving, especially since a criminal record and gaps in work history could make it tough to find work when they get out. 

“When you get locked up, you lose everything,” Kingsley said. “You lose all your possessions, your … credit score goes down, all your bills go unpaid … The benefit (of working) far outweighs the negatives.” 

No statewide data available

How many prisoners participate in work release statewide? Corrections officials don’t consistently keep track, Hardtke said. 

The department’s public data dashboards show prisoner demographics, recidivism rates and enrollment in educational or treatment programs, among other things. Employment numbers are not included.

Prison staff record each prisoner’s jobs and privileges in the person’s individual file but don’t routinely gather that data across the system, Hardtke said.

“What’s important from a correctional standpoint is that you know where everybody is,” Hardtke said, adding that such jobs data “would need to be compiled from multiple sources.” 

The latest numbers Wisconsin Watch could find are from 2024. Responding to a Legislative Fiscal Bureau request for a report on state prisons, the department’s research team manually calculated that 781 people had work release jobs in July 2024, Hardtke said.

Asked for a current figure, Hardtke said “that number is not something we have readily available nor is it something you could accurately pull from a single source or document.”

Officials also don’t track how many people are eligible for work release. As of Oct. 31, 2,778 Wisconsin prisoners were at the department’s lowest custody level.

Several neighboring states routinely track how many people have work release jobs or are eligible for them. Of the 11 other Midwestern states Wisconsin Watch asked, seven responded. 

• Four said they track the number of participants but not the number of people eligible: Minnesota (186), Missouri (202), North Dakota (13) and South Dakota (183).
• Iowa officials said they track eligibility (418) but don’t track how many people have work release jobs.
• Nebraska officials said they track both: 378 were eligible, and 374 were working.
• Officials in Michigan said they don’t offer work release.

Prisoner pushes for more jobs

In July, Kingsley wrote to Warden Clinton Bryant, who oversees the men’s minimum-security centers, asking him to add 100 more work release jobs. 

“By writing you first, I hope that changes can be made. Changes that not only benefit the guys here or at other centers, but also the DOC and the state as a whole,” Kingsley wrote. Adding those jobs would generate $75,000 a month in room and board payments, along with state taxes, he wrote. 

Bryant responded that Winnebago Correctional Center “collaborates with community employers on a daily basis” and that prison officials can’t require employers to hire anyone. 

Jobs aren’t particularly hard to find near Winnebago Correctional Center. Like the rest of the state, Winnebago County faces a growing worker shortage as baby boomers retire. Prisoners aside, the share of the county’s population that’s working or actively looking for work has fallen 7.4% since 2000, according to the Department of Workforce Development. 

Winnebago County’s unemployment rate — which excludes people in prison — was among the lowest in the state in 2024, according to DWD data. 

Wisconsin’s labor market has softened since last year but remains strong, said Dave Shaw, a regional director of the Department of Workforce Development’s Bureau of Job Service, which manages the state website that matches employers and job seekers. 

“It’s still fairly easy to find work, and there are a lot of jobs out there,” Shaw said.

It can be harder to find a job with a criminal record, but Shaw said his team works with a variety of companies that are “interested in giving individuals a second chance” to get back in the workforce. 

“There are employers all around the state who are willing to do that,” Shaw said, noting that the state offers tax credits and free insurance to employers who hire people with criminal records.

When Kingsley contacted Bryant again, urging the department to establish minimum job placement rates for work release centers, the warden ended the conversation.

“My office addressed these matters and provided you a response,” Bryant wrote. “No further correspondence on these matters will be addressed by my office.” 

So Kingsley took the issue to the State Capitol. In May, Republican lawmakers introduced legislation that would give bonuses to probation and parole officers who increase the employment rate among the people they supervise. Kingsley asked them to do the same for work release centers. 

All of the bill’s authors and cosponsors either declined Wisconsin Watch’s request for comment or did not respond. 

As of publication of this story, Kingsley has yet to receive a reply.

Natalie Yahr reports on pathways to success statewide for Wisconsin Watch, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at nyahr@wisconsinwatch.org.

A century after pioneering work release, Wisconsin corrections officials don’t track how many prisoners participate is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.