Micah Laureano with his mother, Phyllis, who filed a lawsuit after Micah's death | Photo courtesy Phyllis Laureno

Months after 19 year-old Micah Laureano was killed by his cellmate at Green Bay Correctional Institution, Laureano’s mother filed a lawsuit against officials in the Wisconsin Department of Corrections. 

On Friday, Secretary Jared Hoy and the warden of GBCI, Christopher Stevens, denied violating any of Laureano’s rights and engaging in any unlawful actions.

They denied that the plaintiff, Phyllis Laureano, “is entitled to any of the relief that she seeks” and called for the complaint to be dismissed. 

The lawsuit alleged that “defendants’ willful and deliberate indifference to Mr. Laureano’s safety resulted in him being murdered by his cellmate.” It alleged that “based on Defendants’ actions, Mr. Laureano suffered cruel and unusual punishment when Defendants failed to protect him from harm.”

The lawsuit alleged that “defendants failed to protect Mr. Laureano when they placed a particularly aggressive, violent, and discriminatory inmate with a history of severe physical assault and mental health issues” in a cell with him. 

In June, Jackson Vogel was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole for Laureano’s death.

Vogel reportedly said he attacked Laureano because he was Black and gay, according to a report the Examiner received from the Brown County Sheriff’s Office. 

According to the report, Vogel had been issued conduct reports dated March 5 and 6, 2024, for language in inmate complaints and interview requests. 

The complaints reportedly contained “obscene, profane, abusive and threatening language” and swastika symbols. According to the report, Vogel wrote “‘you all need and deserve Death! Hail Hitler!’” and mentioned the Aryan Brotherhood and “‘White Power (WLM).’” 

The Post-Crescent reported that in May 2024, a judge and a prosecutor in Manitowoc County received death threats in the mail from Vogel, containing violent language detailing torture and cannibalism. 

In an article about Laureano’s death at GBCI in August, the Examiner reported that court records showed Vogel had been found guilty of attempted first-degree intentional homicide, and Laureano had been found guilty of taking and driving a vehicle without consent and as party to a crime for substantial battery intending bodily harm, robbery with use of force and first-degree recklessly endangering safety. 

A telephone scheduling conference will take place at 9:20 a.m. on Sept. 11. 

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES.

SUBSCRIBE

Reading Time: 8 minutes

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Maintaining relationships between children and incarcerated parents helps mitigate the negative impacts of the separation. Family visits have been shown to reduce recidivism. 

• At Camp Reunite, children spend a week at a traditional summer camp, with access to outdoors activities and trauma-informed programming. Two days out of the week, campers spend an entire day with their incarcerated parents.

• The program is accessible only to children of those incarcerated at Taycheedah and Kettle Moraine prisons, but the camp is discussing an expansion to Racine Correctional Institution.  

• Stigma surrounding incarceration and transportation barriers have limited growth of the camp.

The thunk of a plastic bat followed each pitch and question Tasha H. lobbed toward her 14-year-old son. She cheered after each hit as she tracked down the whiffle ball and prepared her next throw. 

“Maybe baseball next year?” 

No, he responded before hitting the ball over his mom’s head. He plans to try out for varsity football instead.

“You’re getting a lot better than you give yourself credit for,” Tasha told him.

Standing in a patch of green grass in late June, working to extract more than one-word answers from her son, Tasha looked like a typical mom of a soon-to-be high schooler. But as the ball landed on the wrong side of a chain rope fence, it was clear they were not standing in a backyard or baseball field. 

“I can’t go get that,” she said. 

The fence stood only about 2 feet high. But Tasha could not cross it or the much taller, barbed fence bordering Taycheedah Correctional Institution in Fond du Lac — not for at least another year. 

The brief batting practice was part of Camp Reunite, a program for children with incarcerated parents. Before camp, Tasha had not seen her son in the year since she was arrested for crimes she committed related to a drug relapse.

WPR and Wisconsin Watch are withholding the last names of parents or kids included in the story at the request of Camp Reunite to protect the campers’ privacy.

One of the first things Tasha noticed about her son was that he’s taller than her now. 

“Then he spoke and it was like a man, and I was appalled,” Tasha said. “I know that sounds crazy, but I just want to be there as much as I can, even though I’m in here.”

They both needed the visit, she said. 

Maintaining relationships between children and incarcerated parents helps mitigate the negative impacts of the separation, experts say. Family visits have been shown to reduce recidivism. 

Camp Reunite allows children to spend a week at a traditional summer camp where they can hike, canoe and participate in trauma-informed programming like art therapy. Two days out of the week, campers get to spend an entire day with their incarcerated parents in a more relaxed setting than typical visits.

Despite the camp’s success for parents and their kids, it remains unique to Wisconsin and has operated in just two prisons this summer: the women’s prison at Taycheedah and Kettle Moraine, a nearby men’s facility.

Public opinion is the camp’s biggest obstacle, said Chloe Blish, the camp’s mental wellness director. Prison and camp staff described hearing and reading concerns over the perception that the program is a safety risk — and that it rewards incarcerated parents. 

Past media coverage of the camp has prompted online backlash against named parents — personal attacks that older campers can read and absorb, Blish said.

She wishes skeptics could experience a day at Camp Reunite, she said. “It’s electric.”

Tasha and her son started their reunion playing the board game Sorry!

“I miss you,” she said before moving her pawn 10 spaces and asking if he signed up to attend the winter camp. 

He nodded before knocking her piece back to the start, softly telling his mom “sorry.”

Between turns and debates about the rules, she asked about school, football, friends, food at camp and where he got his shoes. He reminded her that she bought them for him. She told him he needed to clean them with an old toothbrush, which led to a short lecture about how often he should replace his toothbrush. 

He asked her why she didn’t spend extra money to get Nikes with her prison uniform, a gray T-shirt and teal scrub pants. They joked about her all-white Reebok sneakers.

“I’m glad you came,” she said. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

Not like other camps

When Taycheedah social worker Rachel Fryda-Gehde heard officials were trying to host a camp at the prison, her first reaction was: “Nobody’s ever going to entertain such a crazy idea.”

This summer, she helped run the prison’s eighth season. 

She and other camp leaders plan to present on the program’s success at national conferences this fall, she said. They want to see the camp grow, but there are barriers, including public perception.

The nonprofit Hometown Heroes runs the camp in coordination with the Wisconsin Department of Corrections.

Camp Hometown Heroes started as a summer camp for children whose parents died after serving in the military. The camp paid to fly Blish and her sister from California to Wisconsin during summers when they were teenagers.

She still loves Hometown Heroes, but Camp Reunite has more impact, she said.

“There’s a lot of camps for gold star kids, that’s easy support,” Blish said. Things are different at Camp Reunite.

She and other camp leaders often work in the kitchen, filling in to wash dishes during Camp Reunite. During Hometown Heroes, that’s never necessary, because so many community members volunteer to help, she said. 

Hometown Heroes, an exponentially larger operation, also receives more individual donations because of people who have a passion for helping veterans and military families, wrote Liz Braatz, the camp’s director of development. 

She has heard the stigma around supporting people in prison, she wrote in an email. But discussing the camp as a way to help children affected by trauma “has made all the difference” in reshaping perceptions, she said. 

Outside of camp, the organization provides campers with new clothing, school supplies and hygiene products. 

“It does not matter who your God is or who you vote for, if your passion is helping these kids,” Braatz wrote. 

The camp is in conversation with Racine Correctional Institution and now has plans to expand its program next summer. 

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections would welcome Camp Reunite in additional facilities, spokesperson Beth Hardtke said. 

Barriers stifle attendance 

The camp faces additional obstacles in expanding its service. 

This summer’s camp at Taycheedah was far from capacity. There were enough camp staff for more than 100 kids, Blish said. But just over a dozen families showed up. 

“We started out with a lot more,” Fryda-Gehde said. 

There are two major requirements for moms to join the camp: no sex crime convictions and no major conduct issues in the six months leading up to camp. This year’s attendance shrank after women were placed into segregation cells after breaking prison rules.

Prison social workers spend months with the moms to prepare for camp. Moms create posters to decorate their campers’ bunk beds, while prison staff set up activity stations like a beauty parlor and photo booth in the visiting room.

But the biggest reason for lower attendance: getting some caregivers on board. 

Some kids might not be ready to visit with their incarcerated parents, Blish said. Other times, caretakers are hesitant to allow them in a prison or struggle to get them there. 

Women are more likely than men to be the primary caretakers for their children at the time of arrest. That often leads to major life disruptions for campers visiting the women’s prison who are more likely to live with foster placements or more distant relatives. 

Even caretakers comfortable with the camp might struggle to get there. Many families lack cars, Blish said. The camp tries to arrange rides for as many kids as possible, but it can’t always pick up kids who live farther away. 

‘You’re here to have fun’

Nyzaiah and his three younger siblings live with their grandparents in Milwaukee. Camp was the first time they’ve made the more than hourlong drive to visit their mom since she was incarcerated. 

“I was trying not to cry because I don’t like really showing my emotions to people, but I did drop a tear,” he said. “Me and my mom are really close.”

They talk on the phone around four times a week, but seeing her in person felt different, he said. 

Most of his classmates get picked up by their parents. Only his close friends know why his grandparents pick him up each day.

“At home, I’m big brother. I gotta do everything and make sure it’s good. I don’t like to bring a lot of stress on my grandma,” the 13-year-old said. 

But at camp, his brothers and sister are in separate cabins. 

“The counselors told me, ‘You’re here to have fun. Don’t worry about your siblings. We’ve got them,’” he said. 

Glitter, braids and tearful goodbyes 

Moms aren’t the only ones asking questions at camp. 

“You’ve got a TV?” asked Deloise L.’s 11-year-old son.

“Of course,” she answered. The morning before camp she woke up early from excitement and watched the morning news while she waited. 

Deloise’s children are staying with her sister who brings them for somewhat regular visits throughout the year. But camp is different.

“I love this,” she said. 

During a normal visit, her family is under the supervision of correctional officers, and her movement is more limited. At camp, most of the prison staff present are social workers. Moms walk from activity to activity without asking permission, including to the camp’s crowded “salon.”

Deloise clipped hot pink braids into her teenage daughter’s hair and applied glittery makeup over her eyes. Her son picked out a fake mustache.

As counselors warned that there were 10 minutes left until they would bus back to camp, kids scrambled to get close to their moms. Even the knowledge that they would be back later that week failed to stop the tears.

“When you got to separate from them, that’s when it gets bad,” Deloise said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “It just gets bad when you want to be around your kids.”

This is her family’s second camp. They plan to attend one more summer camp before her release in 2026.

“I’m learning from my mistakes,” she said. “They won’t have to worry about this again.”

‘I did drop a tear’: Camp Reunite helps kids connect with their incarcerated parents 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.

The Waupun prison sits in the middle of a residential neighborhood (Photo | Wisconsin Examiner)

Most of those speaking at the Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC) online public hearing on community supervision – parole, probation and extended supervision – said the system is  too rigid. Instead of helping people successfully integrate back into society, they said, the system creates a tripwire of rules that can easily be broken and result in too many people being ordered back to prison when supervision is revoked.

The public hearing on July 8 took up proposed rules to amend the DOC’s Administrative Code because of a law passed in April 2014, Act 196, that directs the creation of a system of appropriate short-term sanctions for violation of conditions of supervision. The law sets out  eight criteria, including minimizing the impact on the offender’s employment and family, and offers rewards for those complying with conditions of supervision.

Of the 18 members of the public who spoke at the hearing, most addressed the need for implementing the spirit of the 2014 law to create a less burdensome system of community supervision and reduce the number of revocations that in 2023 represented over 30% of those entering prison and in 2024 reached nearly 60%. Update: DOC disputes the 60% figure, saying about half of those included in that number are people whose revocation was related to the commission of new crimes.

Several people who had been on community supervision or were still serving on supervision also spoke and asked that the DOC do more than just provide accountability and make the system less oppressive and also offer resources, such as help obtaining housing.

One of the first to speak was Tom Gilbert, an advocate for WISDOM, a statewide network working on reform of the prison and criminal justice systems and other social justice issues. Gilbert, whose son has twice had supervision revoked, has been pushing since 2019 for the DOC to implement Act 196.

“Act 196 is a good law passed with broad bipartisan support, and it calls for a cultural shift in how the Department of Corrections administers its supervision programs,” he said. 

“For many years, WISDOM has called on the department to implement the law and thereby provide a solid alternative to thousands of revocations each year,” he added. 

However, Gilbert said, when he read DOC’s proposed rules for implementing the law he was upset that the DOC only stated the eight criteria without creating or describing a system for “new and revised policies and practices.”

Gilbert accused the DOC of not wanting to fulfill the intent of the law.

“This cannot be an oversight. It is a conscious omission,” he said. “To me, it signals that the DOC is not committed to creating a system of short-term sanctions, that it is not serious about shifting the community corrections program from an operation that sabotages the successful reentry of people into their communities to an operation that is focused on healing individuals, families and communities by providing the treatments and supports needed to accomplish that goal.”

Gilbert challenged the DOC’s current protocol of calling 90 days of jail a short-term sanction because, he said, even 60, 30, 21, or 14 days in jail has a negative impact on employment and family.

He also challenged the DOC’s perspective that the rules revision would only impact those on community supervision, vendors and DOC staff.

 “The decisions you and your agents make every day regarding people under your supervision widely affect families, employers, health care providers, social service providers, schools — in  other words, whole communities and this whole state,” Gilbert said. “The proposed rules should be revised by adding back the language from Act 196 that explains its whole purpose — creating a system of short-term sanctions.”

Sean Wilson, senior director of organizing and partnership of Dream.Org, a national non-profit working on social justice issues, was also critical of the proposed rule for offering no description for short-term sanctions.

“There’s no real short-term sanctions framework,” Wilson said. “Instead of building a system that redirects people before they spiral back into incarceration, this proposal simply restates the existing law; meanwhile, revocations without new convictions in Wisconsin still account for 40% of our prison admissions.” (The rate rose from 40% early in 2024 to nearly 60% at the end of the year)

“Here in this state, there are no guardrails to prevent over-punishment,” Wilson added. “The proposal leaves full revocation on the table for things like substance abuse, missed check-ins, minor violations that are far too often treated as major. There’s no real focus on rehabilitation. There’s no clear investment in helping people reintegrate successfully, and no mention of support, supportive services, trauma-informed care, or reentry pathways.”

He said the rules are “vague about how sanctions will be applied, who will review them, and how racial disparities, which are deeply embedded in our system, will be addressed.”

He also raised concerns about private contractors offering supervision, creating a “financial incentive that undermines fairness and accountability.”

Carol Rubin, a former administrative judge, also encouraged the implementation of Act 196 and was also critical of the proposed rules not fleshing out the intent of the 2014 law.

“I want to express my dismay that DOC has delayed issuing formal rules for Act 196 for 11 years, despite being ordered to issue rules in 2014 by the Wisconsin Legislature,” she said. “In the meantime, thousands of individuals have been denied the benefit of a real, short-term sanction system with trained agents that could have stabilized their new lives in the community.”

Rubin said the DOC should provide examples of how short-term sanctions should be employed to minimize the impact on employment.

“For a low violation, consider imposing a short-term sanction that does not restrict the hours that a client could be available for employment, such as a verbal or written reprimand,” she said. “For a medium or high violation, consider a brief house arrest or weekend jail sanction of two days or less that will not interfere with the client’s current or future hours of employment; if appropriate, a weekend home arrest could be repeated.”

Liz Monroe noted that the DOC’s manual for Evidence Based Response to Violations (EBRV) has two mentions of using rewards, including stating that rewards are “more effective than only using sanctions” and that incentives and rewards are “helpful for compliance and positive behaviour and that there should be at least four rewards for every sanction.”

As a reward for compliance, she encouraged reducing the supervision time, such as 30 days of compliance resulting in 30 fewer days on supervision.

Barbie Jackson, vice president of MOSES, an affiliate of WISDOM, asked for a description that “clearly defines short-term sanctions to assure that they focus on helping people avoid harmful behaviors and fulfill societal obligations, minimize disruption of the impacted person’s employment, minimize the effect on the impacted person’s family and establish incentives and rewards for compliance and positive behavior.”

Jeremy Dings, who said he had been originally sentenced to five years in prison but ended up serving 12 because of two revocations, talked about how he was unable to help his family during a health crisis after he broke a rule and was revoked. He was allso not allowed to attend his mother’s funeral.

“People on supervision have families, too, just like all of you,” he said. “Revocation for rule violation ends the person’s employment and their ability to support their family and themselves.”

Marianne Oleson, operations director for Ex Incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO), noted she had been on supervision for eight years and still had 18 more years to serve.

“I’ve rebuilt my life. Started over with nothing, and dedicated myself to helping others,” she said, “but despite everything I’ve done, I wake up every day with 18 more years of supervision ahead of me, not because I’ve reoffended, not because I’m a danger, but because the system has failed to evolve with science.”

She contended that recent research on community supervision says the ideal period is three to five years.

Oleson noted that her clients include many who have been revoked and sent back to prison for a technical rule violation. 

She said the present system often does not have the goal of rehabilitation but “surveillance disguised as support.”

“People on supervision are trying to live,” said Oleson. “We’re parenting, working, healing and giving back, but we live in fear that one misstep will erase years of progress. You have a chance to change that, to lead with justice instead of fear. Please rewrite this to reflect what the courts, the research and those of us directly impacted are telling you. Our futures matter. Please treat us like they do and we do.”

JenAnn Bauer of West Bend who had been in prison and on supervision said that “excessive supervision” creates challenges for rebuilding a life.

“Every job, every lease, every new agent and every step forward comes with extra scrutiny and extra risk,” she said. “I have done everything the system has asked of me. I pay taxes, I’ve reintegrated, I’ve contributed. These things don’t just affect the formerly incarcerated. They affect our families, our children and future generations. When a parent is stuck under financial pressure or the constant threat of being sent back for a technical violation, it creates instability that reaches far beyond one individual, it holds entire families hostage and in survival mode, and that affects the health, safety and future of whole communities and our entire state.”

Robert Thibault, vice president of Prison Action in Milwaukee, said he had been on supervision for 15 years and had experienced a “huge inconsistency” in how supervision was administered depending on the parole or probation officer (PO), adding the attitude of a PO over the interpretation of “arbitrary rules” could result in a revocation.

Meah Flowers of Madison talked of having family members going in and out of prison and the disruption that revocation causes. She encouraged implementing Act 196 to help families.

Eric Howland said there is an expectation that those coming into community supervision obtain employment, housing and a positive social network, but a 90- or 60-day jail sentence for a supervision violation negatively impacts those goals.

Why 11 years?

The DOC has not yet responded to questions from the Examiner on why it has taken 11 years to implement Act 196.  

Update: DOC spokesperson Beth Hardke responded to this story on Tuesday, July 15: “The idea that 60% of Wisconsin’s prison population is incarcerated for rules violations is simply untrue but it’s a common misinterpretation of the data.” She pointed to DOC’s prison admissions dashboard which shows 27.3% of people admitted to Wisconsin prisons over a one-year period are described as “revocation new sentence” while 32.5% described as “revocation only.” Taken together, those numbers represent about 60% of admissions. But, Hardke writes, about half of them were convicted of a new crime resulting in a new sentence, not for violating supervision rules. This story has been updated to include that response. 

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES.

SUBSCRIBE

Reading Time: 7 minutes

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Boosting corrections officers’ pay initially helped address chronic staffing shortages in Wisconsin prisons, but vacancies have been rising again in recent months. 

• Corrections officers say the trend is predictable as new officers, attracted by competitive starting wages, discover the demands of the work. Improving training, safety and workplace culture would help, they say. 

• Some Democratic lawmakers, prisoner rights advocates and even correctional officers argue that reducing the prison population would improve conditions for inmates and staff.

Responding to staffing shortages that imperiled guards and staff, Wisconsin lawmakers in 2023 significantly increased pay for corrections officers — hoping to retain and attract more workers to the grueling job. 

It helped, at least initially. But following significant progress, staffing vacancies are again growing in many Wisconsin prisons. The data support a common complaint from correctional officers and their supporters: The Department of Corrections and the Legislature must do more to retain officers in the long run. Improving training, safety and workplace culture would help, they say. 

Meanwhile, some Democratic lawmakers, prisoner rights advocates and correctional officers argue that reducing the prison population would improve conditions for inmates and staff by reducing overcrowding and easing tensions. 

The two-year budget Gov. Tony Evers signed last week included a small boost in funding for programs geared at limiting recidivism and additional funding to plan the closure of one of Wisconsin’s oldest prisons. But Republicans removed broader Evers proposals that focused on rehabilitating prisoners, and a plan to close Green Bay’s 127-year-old prison includes few details.

“Reducing the number of people we incarcerate in Wisconsin is critical, both because of the harm that mass incarceration does to individuals and communities, and because of the resulting stress from overburdening prison staff,” Rep. Ryan Clancy, D-Milwaukee, told Wisconsin Watch. “Packing more people into our prisons leads to worse services and worse outcomes when incarcerated folks are released back into the community.” 

Wisconsin Watch and The New York Times last year detailed how Wisconsin officials for nearly a decade failed to take significant steps to slow a hemorrhaging of corrections officers that slowed basic operations to a crawl. During that period prisoners escaped, staff overtime pay soared and lockdowns kept prisoners from exercise, fresh air and educational programming, leading some to routinely threaten suicide.  

At Waupun Correctional Institution, staffing vacancies peaked at 56% in February 2024, leaving more positions open than filled.

As aging staff members retired, the state struggled to replace them, particularly after Act 10, a sweeping 2011 state law that gutted most public workers’ ability to collectively bargain for more attractive conditions. Vacancy rates steadily climbed to 43% in the state’s maximum-security prisons and 35% across all adult institutions before pay raises took effect in October 2023.

Following two years of partisan infighting, the Republican-led Legislature approved a compensation package that increased starting pay for corrections officers from $20.29 to $33 an hour, with a $5 add-on for staff at maximum-security prisons and facilities with vacancy rates above 40% for six months straight. 

Within a year, vacancy rates plunged as low as 15% at maximum-security prisons and 11% across all adult prisons.

Rep. Mark Born, a Beaver Dam Republican who co-chairs the Legislature’s budget-writing Joint Finance Committee, credited legislative action with greatly reducing staffing shortages.  

“As I’ve talked to the prisons in my district, they’re happy to see that the recruit classes are much larger and the vacancies are about half of what they were prior to the action in the last budget,” he told Wisconsin Watch. 

Vacancies rise following initial progress

It’s true that vacancies are nowhere near their previous crisis levels. Those include rates in Waupun and Green Bay, where officials previously locked down prisoners during severe staffing shortages. Green Bay now has just over half the vacancy rate it had during the height of the crisis. Waupun has recovered even more dramatically. After plunging much of last year, its vacancy rate has hovered near 20% in recent months.

But vacancies are increasing across much of the prison system, corrections data show. As of July 1, rates reached 26% at maximum-security prisons and more than 17% overall. The department has lost more than 260 full-time equivalent officer and sergeant positions over the past nine months. 

The vacancy rate at Columbia Correctional Institution in Portage, which has the most gaping staffing shortage, reached 41% on July 1, up from a low of 11% a year ago. 

Push to close Green Bay prison

The new state budget appropriated $15 million “to develop preliminary plans and specifications” to realign the Department of Corrections and eventually close the Green Bay prison, whose vacancy rate has grown from a low of 9% last October to nearly 25%.

Republicans proposed closing the prison by 2029, but Evers used his veto power to remove that date, saying he objected to setting a closure date “while providing virtually no real, meaningful, or concrete plan to do so.” 

How a future prison closure would shape long-term population trends may hinge on what replaces the prison. Evers earlier this year proposed a $500 million overhaul to, among other provisions, close the Green Bay prison; renovate the Waupun prison — adding a “vocational village” to expand workforce training; and convert the scandal-plagued Lincoln Hills and Copper Lake youth prison into an adult facility.

Republicans rejected that more ambitious proposal in crafting the bill that became law. 

Closing the Green Bay prison without replacing its capacity might reduce the prison population — and ease staffing shortages, Clancy argues. With less space to put those convicted of crimes, judges might issue shorter sentences, he said. 

“Every time I’ve spoken with a criminal judge, I’ve asked if they are aware of the number of beds available when they sentence someone. They always are,” Clancy said. “And I ask if that knowledge impacts their sentencing decisions. It always does.”

But for now, corrections employees are supervising a rising number of prisoners. The state’s total prison population is up about 7% since the compensation boost took effect. Wisconsin now houses more than 23,400 prisoners in facilities built for about 17,700, with the state budget estimating that number to rise over the next two years.

The Department of Corrections did not respond to multiple requests for comment on staffing trends.

‘How much of your soul can you afford to lose?’

Multiple corrections officers called rising vacancies predictable as new officers, attracted by competitive starting wages, discovered the demands of the work.

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit,” said a former officer who recently left a job in Waupun. He requested anonymity to avoid jeopardizing future employment in law enforcement. “They put a Band-Aid on the problem. They lured people in, thinking they were going to make more money. But the reality is the job hasn’t changed.” 

Even before the raises, it was not uncommon for officers to make upwards of $100,000 as they banked overtime pay while being forced to cover for open shifts. That pay came at a steep cost to work-life balance, said Rich Asleson, a correctional officer between 1997 and 2022, most at the former Supermax facility in Boscobel.

“It’s not a matter of needing more money. It’s a matter of how much of your soul can you afford to lose?” Asleson said. 

Additionally, officers say they feel added risks — whether reprimands, lawsuits or even criminal charges — as news media increasingly scrutinize their actions. Multiple deaths of Waupun prisoners, for instance, resulted in rare criminal charges against the warden and eight other staff members. Officers say they get little support, with a larger focus on penalties and firings than reforming conditions.  

More predictable hours, improved training practices and restored union protections would make the work more attractive, officers said.

“It’s one thing to do a job where you’re getting paid and you’re miserable,” the former Waupun officer said. “But can you imagine doing a job and feeling like you’re not even backed up by Madison? There’s people that are getting into trouble because the powers that be are scared, too. (Leaders) think if they’re ever called to the carpet, they can point to all the people they terminated.”

The officer said veterans, fearing reprisals, are increasingly choosing posts that separate themselves from prisoners and riskier work. They are less willing to train incoming officers due to turnover — seeing that time as wasted if new officers won’t stay long, he added. 

The Department of Corrections should improve training and retention by pairing veteran officers with rookies on shifts to show them the ropes — designating training specialists, he said. 

Waupun mayor: Prison guards go unappreciated

Waupun Mayor Rohn Bishop blames news media for recruiting and retention challenges, saying coverage disproportionately scrutinizes officers without recognizing their difficult jobs. 

“I’m the mayor of a town with three prisons within its city limits. Any time an inmate dies all the TV trucks show up and reporters put microphones in my face,” Bishop said. “But when an officer gets killed or hurt for just doing their job, almost no media pay attention. And I think there’s a burnout because of that.”  

Compared to other front-line workers, correctional officers often go unseen and unthanked, Bishop said. 

“You see firefighters. You see nurses. You see cops. You see these other front-line workers. You don’t see correctional officers because they walk on the other side of the wall. And I just think we don’t appreciate them,” Bishop said. 

Improving conditions for prisoners would simultaneously benefit correctional officers by boosting morale across prisons. That includes expanding the Earned Release Program, which offers pathways for early release to eligible prisoners with substance abuse issues who complete treatment and training — with the potential to ease overcrowding.  Evers’ initial budget proposal included provisions that would have expanded eligibility for the Earned Release Program. The final budget included about $2 million to support programs to reduce recidivism and ease reentry.  

“There needs to be a reimagining of what corrections are,” said the former Waupun officer. “It would make it easier for the inmates and the officers.”

Asleson agreed. “You can’t keep people locked away forever,” he said. “I think it’s about hope on both sides of the fence. If nobody has hope, it shows.” 

Wisconsin Watch reporter Sreejita Patra contributed reporting.

‘Band-Aid on the problem’: Past raises haven’t fully solved Wisconsin prison staffing problems 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.

Reading Time: 4 minutes

A Wisconsin Watch reader asks: The state expungement statute seems very strict. Does anyone actually get their record expunged? Is it easier to get a pardon or commutation from the governor? Why is it so difficult?

While it is certainly possible for people to get their records expunged, the laws and conditions surrounding expungement remain nuanced.

Expungement seals a person’s criminal records, meaning the public can no longer access them through court databases, such as Consolidated Court Automation Programs, or CCAP. 

Oftentimes, employers and landlords use court databases, such as CCAP, to review someone’s criminal records. State law prohibits discrimination unless the crime is materially related, like someone convicted of bank fraud applying to work at a bank. By removing a public criminal record, it removes the stigma that could lead to discrimination in housing and job opportunities. Employers are not allowed to use an expunged record against an applicant, even if the crime is materially related.

But obtaining expungement in Wisconsin is much more difficult than it appears. First, anyone requesting expungement must have been under 25 years old at the time of sentencing and not convicted of a violent felony. Only misdemeanors and Class H and I felonies qualify. The attorney must also request expungement at the time of sentencing; it cannot be requested after the fact.

“I’ve seen judges just disagree with expungement as a concept and never order it,” said Natalie Lewandowski, senior clinic supervisor at the Milwaukee Justice Center. “I think some judges don’t believe that people can be rehabilitated enough to deserve to be back in society and have that not be counted against them.”

Even district attorneys can take expungement off the table. In some cases, defense attorneys may not even know expungement exists and therefore won’t know to bring it up during a person’s trial.

As a new attorney, Lewandowski wasn’t aware of expungement until she was told minutes before the trial. It is not something that is often taught, and there is no handbook, she said. 

If the judge recommends expungement, a person must then meet all conditions of probation, including paying all financial obligations and supervision fees in full. The person cannot be convicted of a subsequent offense or violate any Department of Corrections rules.

But even with the expungement conditions laid out, the process is nuanced, and the success rate is low. 

For those who were found eligible for expungement at the time of sentencing, Lewandowski said a shocking number of them fail to get their case successfully expunged. 

In general, people believe that if they complete probation, they will have their case expunged. But they also must meet all the requirements of probation before they are discharged. 

“I’ve had to tell too many people that they can never get their case expunged because at the time of their discharge, they still owed $10 in supervision fees,” Lewandowski said. 

A probation office has to submit a form either notifying that the person completed conditions for expungement or failed to meet the conditions, with each condition laid out directly on the form.

It’s unclear how many people have their record expunged each year. The DOC does not keep data on how many cases meet the requirements for expungement, and court data is unreliable and not readily aggregated. Wisconsin Policy Forum estimates that around 2,000 people have their record expunged each year. 

Pardons, on the other hand, have a more clearly defined process. 

Requirements for a pardon include an old felony conviction and at least five years since the individual completed a sentence. To be granted a pardon, a person either applies to the Pardon Advisory Board, where a hearing is held on the pardon application, or the person can qualify for the expedited process in which the application is forwarded directly to the governor without a hearing. 

The applicants have to include certified court documents. The cost of copies of court documents is $1.25 per page and an additional $5 to get the document certified.

“The kicker is the application processing times, the time it takes from when you submit your application to get a hearing in front of the pardon board, where they’ll decide, is like two years right now,” Lewandowski said. “If you’re eligible for a pardon, it’s still something that you have to prove to the pardon board that you’re deserving of, so a lot of people don’t get pardoned.”

Most of the pardoned cases are low-level, non-violent offenses. Pardoning does not expunge the record or indicate innocence, but instead symbolizes forgiveness from the governor and restores certain rights — such as the right to serve on a jury, possess a firearm or hold a state or local office. 

Unlike expungement, pardons also depend on who is governor at the time of the request.

For example, Gov. Tony Evers has granted over 1,436 pardons as of April 2025 — the most ever — while former Gov. Scott Walker was adamantly against pardons during his time in office. 

For individuals seeking expungement or pardons, there are resources available. 

The Mobile Legal Clinic through the Milwaukee Justice Center includes information on expungement and pardon eligibility. There is also a guide on completing the pardon application for people who wish to do it independently. 

There have been attempts by lawmakers to decrease the barriers to expungement, such as eliminating the age requirement and allowing a person to petition the court for expungement after sentencing. 

Evers most recently requested these changes in the 2025-27 budget, but it was removed from discussion by Republicans in early May.

Does anyone actually get their record expunged in Wisconsin? 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.

Alternatives to incarceration could drastically cut lock-up rate in Wisconsin. This week the Department of Corrections will finally take up a 2014 law that aimed to do just that. | Getty Images

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC) will hold a public hearing this week on Act 196, legislation that received bipartisan support and was signed into law in April 2014 by then-Gov. Scott Walker. The law aimed to create sanctions for people who violate the conditions of their parole, probation and extended supervision as an alternative to revocation, which sends people back to prison sometimes for small infractions that violate the terms of their release. The hearing on implementing a new rule, 11 years after the law was signed, will finally take place on Tuesday, July 8 at 10 a.m.

The public can join the virtual hearing by going to a DOC link and selecting the “hearing information” section. The text of the rule is also available online at the same hearing link.  

Act 196 states the intent to “Develop a system of short-term sanctions for violations of conditions of parole, probation, extended supervision, and deferred prosecution agreement (an agreement not to prosecute pending the accused meeting requirements such as drug treatment).”

A sentence for a criminal violation, besides fines and fees, typically includes a period of incarceration and supervision outside incarceration via parole, probation, or extended supervision.

If a condition of supervision, such as the requirement to remain sober or stay away from minors, is not meant, the probation officer has the option of requesting a revocation hearing before an administrative judge that could result in the person serving a portion or the remainder of the “supervised” sentence behind bars.

Act 196 states “short-term sanctions” should include “examples of high, medium and low level sanctions and what factors to consider when determining which level of sanction to apply.”

The law is not  just punitive. Act 196 also says the DOC is to determine “how to reward offenders for compliance with conditions of parole, of probation, of extended supervision or of the agreement (such as deferred prosecution).”

The 2014 law also states the DOC should “minimize the impact on the offender’s employment” and also minimize “the impact on an offender’s family.”

The 2014 law would appear to meet the stated goals of the DOC and Gov. Tony Evers to lower the revocation rate for Wisconsin that has resulted in thousands returning each year to prison.

WISDOM, a statewide network working on reform of the prison and criminal legal systems and other social justice issues, is pleased the DOC is finally taking steps to implement the 2014 law into a rule.

“Adding more short-term community-based alternatives to revocation has the potential to significantly reduce the number of people sent to prison each year,” said Mark Rice, Transformational Justice Campaign Coordinator for WISDOM, a statewide network working to overhaul the criminal legal system and other unjust systems.

“Sending people back to prison for convictionless rule violations is fueling the overcrowding of Wisconsin’s prisons,” said Rice.

Tom Gilbert, a father whose son has been incarcerated and had supervision revoked and returned to prison, has led WISDOM’s efforts to get the DOC to implement Act  196.

“It is way past time for Wisconsin to transform its supervision program of people who have been released from their original sentence,” said Gilbert. “Revoking people back to prison for rule violations is counter-productive. Other states have moved to better methods of supervision and are closing prisons.”

But WISDOM officials also have concerns that DOC will use current practices of sanctions, such as 90-day jail confinements, that WISDOM say don’t meet the intent of ACT 196 to “minimize” the impact on employment and the family.

Wisdom officials are also concerned the DOC has not fleshed out how to implement ACT 196 by describing the actual “system of short-term sanctions.” The proposed rule to be considered at the July 8 hearing merely replicates language stated in Act 196 without specifying the actual short-term sanctions or the rewards for meeting the conditions of supervision.

“If the Department of Corrections truly implements both the letter and spirit of Act 196, we see the potential transformation of its community corrections programs to one that focuses on healing individuals and communities affected by crime,” said Gilbert.

Joining the public hearing

Members of the public who are not able to join the hearing online can use a call-in number for the meeting: (608) 571-2209, with conference code 930 614 929.

Persons making oral presentations at the meeting are also required to submit their comments in writing.

Written comments are also taken until August 8. Written comments can be mailed to DOC Administrative Rule Committee, Caitlin Washburn, Administrative Rules Coordinator, PO Box 7925, Madison, WI 53707-7925.

Written comments can also be sent via email to: DOCAdministrativeRulesCommittee@wisconsin.gov or can be submitted on  the DOC’s website: https://doc.legis.wisconsin.gov/code

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES.

SUBSCRIBE

Update: This story was updated at 11:50 a.m. on Monday, July 7 to make requested edits to a quote by WISDOM’s Mark Rice.

Green Bay Correctional Institution | Photo by Andrew Kennard/Wisconsin Examiner

Prison reform advocates gathered by Green Bay Correctional Institution on Monday, calling for change at a moment when the prison’s future is uncertain. 

The vigil included prayer for incarcerated people in solitary confinement and for the families of Shawnee Reed and Brittany Doescher, who died at Taycheedah Correctional Institution. 

“We’re all human,” JOSHUA Coordinator Caitlin Haynes said. “So whether you committed a crime or not, you deserve humane treatment. So we’re here for that, and to bring light to the situation that they deserve better.”

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections reports on how long prisoners spend in disciplinary separation, where a prisoner might be sent after committing a violation. GBCI has the longest average length of stay in disciplinary separation of any of the adult facilities listed, at 48.6 days, as of the most recent data.

JOSHUA, a local affiliate of the advocacy organization WISDOM, holds monthly vigils at Green Bay Correctional. 

Leslie Hill, who attended the event, said her son died by suicide after leaving prison. 

“I spoke to him daily whenever he wasn’t in solitary, and he had many traumatic experiences,” Hill said. “He had no support. And he was facing one more charge, he was on bond. I had bonded him out to have some mental health treatment…and I think [a] contributing factor to his death was [the prospect of going back].”

In a post before the event, WISDOM said advocates were gathering with four other groups “to call on Gov. Evers to veto any budget that continues to invest in punishment over people.” At a rally at the Capitol in late May, advocates called on the governor to veto the budget if it lacked certain items. 

“We’re urging [Evers] to veto any budget that does not include adequate investments in health care, child care and public education,” said Mark Rice, Wisconsin Transformational Justice Campaign Coordinator at WISDOM. “Also, we want him to ensure that no new prisons are included in the budget… Also wanting to adequately fund measures in the budget that would reduce the prison population.” 

GBCI’s future to be determined 

In February, Gov. Tony Evers laid out a plan that included closing GBCI in 2029 and updating Waupun Correctional Institution (WCI).

Last week, the Legislature’s Joint Finance Committee approved a level of corrections spending that was significantly lower than Evers’ proposal.

Co-chair Rep. Mark Born (R-Beaver Dam) said GBCI wouldn’t be discussed until later in the week, when the committee would take up the capital budget. That meeting was canceled. 

According to the Evers administration, the governor’s plan opted to close GBCI instead of Waupun because of local support for closing GBCI and the lower cost of updating the Waupun facility, the Examiner reported in February.

Long stays in restricted housing

According to the most recent data, 138 incarcerated people were in disciplinary separation at GBCI. There were 71 people in restrictive housing in the facility for over 30 days, the highest of any facility listed and nearly triple the number at the second highest facility.

Over the years, the average length of stay in disciplinary separation has declined across facilities, from 39.7 days in 2019 to 27.8 days in May 2025. 

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections has entered a contract with a third-party management and consulting firm, Falcon Correctional and Community Services, Inc. The partnership includes studying restrictive housing practices at adult prisons. 

An aging facility 

GBCI was built starting in 1898. As of June 20, it housed 381 more incarcerated people than its design capacity of 749. 

Overcrowding puts additional burdens on staff to maintain a facility’s safety and security, a 2020 draft report on the Wisconsin Department of Corrections website stated. Overcrowding also “stresses inmate programs and support functions.” 

The report found that GBCI and Waupun Correctional Institution, the oldest facilities in the system, were both “at or nearing the end of their useful lives.”

Without extensive demolition and reconstruction of housing, program and support services buildings, the report stated, “they will not begin to achieve the safety, security, efficiency and flexibility found in modern correctional institution design.”

Maximum security housing at the prisons opened with 50 square foot cells designed for single occupancy, according to the report. Most of those cells were being used to house two people, presented operational issues and did not comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act or meet American Correctional Association standards. 

The report said new maximum security housing was needed in the long term. In the short term, “consideration should be given to reducing populations at GBCI and WCI if possible to allow for more single occupancy cells.” 

The 2020 report also said a number of facilities have ADA-accessible housing accommodations, but “there exists a particular lack of accessibility at the GBCI and WCI maximum security institutions.” 

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES.

SUBSCRIBE

Reading Time: 8 minutes

Wisconsin incarcerates more people per capita than the majority of countries in the world, including the United States. 

Wisconsin Watch and other newsrooms in recent years have reported on criminal charges against staff following prison deaths, medical errors and delayed health care and lengthy prison lockdowns linked to staffing shortages in Wisconsin prisons.

The state prison population has surged past 23,000 people, with nearly triple that number on probation or parole. Meanwhile, staff vacancies are increasing again across the Department of Corrections.

A reader called this situation a “mess” and asked how we got here and what can be done to fix it.

The road to mass incarceration

The first U.S. prison was founded as a “more humane alternative” to public and capital punishment, prison reform advocate and ex-incarceree Baron Walker told Wisconsin Watch. Two years after Wisconsin built its first prison at Waupun in 1851, the state abolished the death penalty.

For the next century, Wisconsin’s prison population rarely climbed above 3,000, even as the state population grew. But as America declared the “War on Drugs” in the 1970s and set laws cracking down on crime in the ‘80s and ‘90s, Wisconsin’s prison population began to explode.

“In the early 1970s … the rise in incarceration corresponded fairly closely with increases in crime,” said Michael O’Hear, a Marquette University criminal law professor. “The interesting thing that happened in both Wisconsin and the nation as a whole in the ‘90s is that crime rates started to fall, but imprisonment rates kept going up and up.”

According to O’Hear, Wisconsin was late to adopt the “tough-on-crime” laws popular in other states during that era. But by the mid-1990s, the state began to target drug-related crime and reverse leniency policies like parole. 

“There was a period of time in which Milwaukee was just shipping bazillions of people into prison on … the presumption of being a dealer with the possession of very small amounts of crack cocaine,” UW-Madison sociology Professor Emerita Pamela Oliver said. She cited this practice as one of the reasons Wisconsin’s racial disparities in imprisonment are the worst in the nation.

Starting in the late 1990s and 2000s, Wisconsin’s “truth-in-sentencing” law, which requires people convicted of crimes to serve their full prison sentences with longer paroles, resulted in both a cycle of reincarceration and a large prison population full of aging inmates with low risk of reoffending.

Then in 2011, the anti-public union law known as Act 10 caused a mass exodus of correctional officers as working conditions in the state’s aging prisons continued to deteriorate.

Extended supervision

Along with mandating judges impose fixed prison sentences on people convicted of crimes, truth-in-sentencing requires sentences to include an inflexible period of “extended supervision” after a prison term ends. This is different from parole, which is a flexible, early release for good behavior and rehabilitation.

Judges often give out “extraordinarily long periods of extended supervision,” according to Oliver, at least 25% of the incarceration itself by law and often multiple times that in practice. To her, it is simply a “huge engine in reincarceration.”

According to DOC data, of the 8,000 people admitted to Wisconsin prisons in 2024 more than 60% involved some kind of extended supervision violation, known as a “revocation.” Half of those cases involved only revocation.

Extended periods of supervision after release from prison do little to improve public safety, research suggests. The long terms “may interfere with the ability of those on supervision to sustain work, family life and other pro-social connections to their communities,” Cecelia Klingele, a University of Wisconsin-Madison Law School professor of criminal law, wrote in a 2019 study examining 200 revocation cases.

Substance abuse problems contributed to technical revocations in an “overwhelming majority” of cases, Klingele wrote, because “agents have few options to impose meaningful sanctions other than imprisonment.” 

“Fewer, more safety-focused conditions will lead to fewer unnecessary revocations and more consistency in revocation for people whose behavior poses a serious threat to public safety,” Klingele added. 

Streamlining the standard supervision rules would require the Legislature to act.

Oliver attributes Wisconsin’s high rates of revocations to parole officers failing to reintegrate people into society in favor of playing “catch-somebody-offending.”

“You get reincarcerated, (and) all that time (in prison) doesn’t count,” Oliver said. “You can stay on a revolving door of incarceration and extended supervision for five times longer than your original sentence.”

People behind the statistics

The factors behind both crime and incarceration are complex, with socioeconomic factors relating to poverty, race, location and more increasing the chances of contact with the judicial system. 

According to O’Hear, overall crime rates began increasing in the ‘90s during the War on Drugs in part due to prosecutors “charging cases and plea bargaining more aggressively.” 

A study by the Equal Justice Initiative found that plea bargaining perpetuates racial inequality in Wisconsin prisons. White defendants are 25% more likely than Black defendants to have charges dropped or reduced during plea bargaining, and Black defendants are more likely than whites to be convicted of their “highest initial charge(s).”

In the 53206 Milwaukee ZIP code where Baron Walker grew up, nearly two-thirds of Black men are incarcerated before they turn 34. Recalling his youth, Walker said “it seemed like almost all the males in my family were incarcerated at one point in time.”

During his time in the prison system, which included stints at Waupun, Columbia and Fox Lake correctional institutions, Walker struggled with accessing his basic needs.

“Their water came out black, dirty. It had a stench,” Walker said. “It sinks into your clothing, even when you wash them … you consume this water, it’s what they cook the food with.”

Water quality in Wisconsin prisons has been a consistent concern of inmates and activists in the past 15 years. Despite multiple investigations into lead, copper and radium contamination at these maximum- and medium-security prisons, recent reports found unhealthy radium levels in the drinking water — with no free alternatives.

“They would microwave the water (at Fox Lake) and the microwaves would spark up and blow out,” WISDOM advocate Beverly Walker, Baron’s wife, told Wisconsin Watch. “The water at the time was $16 to just get a case of six bottles of water … it so ridiculously high.”

EX-incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO) of Wisconsin peer support specialist Vernell Cauley’s issues within Wisconsin prisons were more personal. His daughter died during his intake into Dodge Correctional Institution, and Cauley wasn’t allowed a temporary release to attend her funeral. 

“It had some deep effects on me,” he said. “Some of the things I didn’t realize I had until I was actually released, when you understand that you didn’t get the proper time to grieve.”

Cauley was put in solitary confinement during that time, and for three months total over the course of his prison stay. According to DOC data, the average stay in solitary confinement across Wisconsin prisons is 28 days, though that’s down from 40 days in 2019.

Furthermore, inmates who struggle with mental illness are overrepresented in solitary confinement across U.S. prisons. Multiple inmates have committed suicide due to long stints of solitary, particularly during recent prison lockdowns.

Working conditions

Joe Verdegan, a former Green Bay correctional officer of nearly 27 years, said he and most of his coworkers “conducted (them)selves pretty professionally” and “always had a lot of respect” for inmates. This respect went both ways, he said, because guards built relationships with inmates for decades at their post.

According to Verdegan, being a correctional officer used to be a “career job” where “nobody left.” Despite the dangers and odd work hours of the post, the guards had a strong union and good benefits and could climb up the ladder as they gained seniority. 

But it “all went to hell” after Act 10 was passed.

Senior staff left in droves, leaving remaining guards with 16-hour shifts and “bad attitudes” that perpetuated the worsening work culture, Verdegan said. Religious, medical and recreational time was cut for inmates due to staffing shortages, and the respect between correctional officers and prisoners dwindled.

“When you’re not getting out for chapel passes or any of that kind of stuff, it just builds that hostility,” he said.

The changes caused Verdegan to retire from corrections at 51, earlier than planned. He and many of his friends took financial penalties by retiring from the Department of Corrections early and ended up working other jobs at bars, grocery stores and factories. 

They also went to funerals. Many former coworkers “drank themselves to death” due to their experiences within corrections, Verdegan said.

Coming home

In 1996, when Walker was sentenced to 60 years in prison for his role in two bank robberies, no one expected him to serve more than a third of his sentence —  not even the victims. 

But when truth-in-sentencing passed, mandating judges to impose definite, inflexible imprisonment lengths on people convicted of crimes, Walker’s hopes for an early release quickly disintegrated.

Walker was released from prison in 2018 on probation, an alternative to incarceration offered on condition of following specific court orders. He was released after being denied parole six times in the seven years since he first became eligible.

In the aftermath of Walker’s imprisonment, he and Beverly have had their “most beautiful days,” along with some trials. Walker said he has struggled to adjust to independent living, and he would have been at a “complete loss” for adapting to 20 years of technological change if he hadn’t studied it in prison.

“You are programmed and reprogrammed to depend on someone for your anything and everything, whether it be your hygiene products, the time you shower, your mail, your bed, your bedding, your food,” Baron said. “Now, suddenly, you cross out in(to) society … and you’re told now as an adult you’re responsible for your independence, your bills, your clothing, your hygiene, your everything.”

Walker has also struggled with finding employment, despite earning “a litany of certifications and degrees” in food service, plumbing, welding, forklift operating and more while incarcerated. He said the DOC’s reentry programs need “overhaul” and more companies should be encouraged to hire formerly incarcerated people.

As of 2021, Wisconsin spent $1.35 billion per year on corrections, but only $30 million on re-entry programs. Less than a third of the re-entry funding is allocated for helping ex-prisoners find jobs — even though studies show employment significantly decreases the likelihood of reoffending.

Looking ahead 

To Oliver, a significant barrier to solving issues within the prison system is changing sociopolitical attitudes.

“People imagine that if you’re punitive enough, you will have no crime,” Oliver said. “It’s really hard to get the general public to realize you ultimately reduce crime more by creating the social conditions that help people live productive lives without committing crime.”

O’Hear believes a key solution to problems within Wisconsin prisons is addressing the “mismatch” between large prison populations and available resources. He argues that “for a couple generations now, there’s been more of a focus on cutting taxes than on adequately funding public agencies” like the DOC.

O’Hear also said that judges should consider shorter prison sentences because “most people age out of their tendency to commit crimes” and that there should be “more robust mechanisms,” such as more compassionate release and parole laws for elderly inmates.

“We have people in prison in their 50s and their 60s and their 70s and even older who are really past the time when they pose a real threat to public safety,” O’Hear said. “Health care costs alone for older prisoners are a tremendous burden on the system, and they’re contributing to overcrowding.”

The Walkers are continuing their advocacy for prison reform by opening up the Integrity Center, which supports incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals with navigation, re-entry, employment assistance and more. They also advocate permanently shutting down aging prisons such as Green Bay and Waupun correctional institutions.

“All of our people who are eligible for release should be released, and people who are eligible to move into minimum facilities should be moved,” Beverly Walker said. “We don’t need any new prisons if we just utilize what we have.”

Verdegan said that he doesn’t believe the Legislature will ever pass a bill closing Green Bay in his lifetime and that “both political parties are to blame for this mess they’ve created with the Wisconsin DOC.” “Throwing money” at corrections officer positions will not fix staffing vacancies, he said, without the guarantee of eight-hour workdays and adequate job training.

He and Cauley both said supporting the mental health of prisoners before and after incarceration is key. Verdegan supports training staff to work with mentally ill prisoners. Cauley would rather see prison abolished altogether.

“Most people who end up in prisons, they have things going on mentally, these issues not getting met,” Cauley said. “Prison only makes people bitter, more angry … you know, it traumatizes them.”

Correction: This story was updated to reflect the average stay in solitary confinement is 28 days. Also 60% of the more than 8,000 people entering prison in 2024 involved a revocation, but half of those cases also involved a new crime.

Why is Wisconsin’s prison system such a ‘mess,’ and what can be done to fix it? 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.

Flags of the 11 Native American tribes of Wisconsin in the Wisconsin State Capitol. (Wisconsin Examiner photo)

At a state prison in Stanley, Wisconsin, participants in a Native American-focused group take part in traditional cultural practices.

According to Ryan Greendeer, executive government relations officer with the Ho-Chunk Nation, Stanley Correctional Institution’s chaplain recently reached out to the tribe with requests for the group’s programming.  

The chaplain wanted teaching materials, as many materials in the current selection were old. He said that men learn songs and Native language with the materials, as well as history and culture.

The chaplain said the men are eager to learn more about all things Native, according to Greendeer. He was also seeking a larger pipe bowl and poles to help build a new lodge. The pipe has a history of ceremonial use.  

The prison’s annual report for fiscal year 2024 mentions a Native American smudge and drum group. The report says that each month, several religious organizations and volunteers come in to hold various services, and the list includes “Sweat Lodge (Native American).”

There were 79 American Indian or Alaska Native people at Stanley Correctional as of April 30, according to the Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC). 

Gov. Tony Evers’ budget recommendations for corrections included a tribal liaison position for the DOC. The liaison would be responsible for working with Native American tribes and bands on the agency’s behalf.

Each of the governor’s cabinet agencies has already set at least one staff member to be a tribal liaison. The governor’s proposal would create a new position, set aside for the job of tribal liaison for corrections. 

Evers also proposed creating a director of Native American affairs in the Department of Administration and tribal liaisons in several other agencies, including the Department of Justice and Department of Natural Resources. 

“Gov. Evers’ commitment has been—and always will be—to ensure that the state maintains strong partnerships with the Tribal Nations by recognizing and respecting the needs and perspectives of the Nations and Indigenous people,” Britt Cudaback, communications director for the governor’s office, said in an email.

The Legislature’s Joint Finance Committee removed the proposed positions in May, along with hundreds of other items proposed by Evers. 

“Unfortunately, [Evers] sends us an executive budget that’s just piles full of stuff that doesn’t make sense and spends recklessly and raises taxes and has way too much policy,” Joint Finance Committee co-chair Mark Born (R-Beaver Dam) said in May.

Tribes already work with the state, including the Oneida Nation, which is located in northeast Wisconsin. The tribe told the Examiner that it continues to work with the state to make sure incarcerated Native Americans have proper access to culturally based practices and resources. 

With a tribal liaison that can help navigate the corrections system, the tribe’s efforts to make sure resources are provided and distributed appropriately make better progress, the tribe said. 

“These efforts will continue whether or not a tribal liaison position exists, although the impact on incarcerated individuals who use culturally based resources may be greater as efforts take longer,” the tribe said. 

The Oneida Nation said it “supports tribes’ efforts to ensure incarcerated members maintain access to appropriate support services as provided by tribal, state, and federal laws.”

Maggie Olson, communications coordinator for the St. Croix  Chippewa Indians of Wisconsin, said the tribe is not located close to the corrections facilities where their tribal members are incarcerated. This is a significant barrier, she said. 

“It would be nice to be able to have a better handle on where our people are within the system to ensure they are having their spiritual and cultural needs met,” Olson said in an email to the Examiner. “It is much easier (at this time) to meet religious needs (think Christianity) within the correctional system than it is to meet the spiritual and cultural needs of Native Americans within the system.”

A great first step would be having a dedicated person who can build relationships with incarcerated Native Americans, she said.

In a statement, the tribe said the liaison “would be a start to developing and enhancing tribal input with State initiatives.” The tribe said it wants to work with the DOC on access to supportive services in county jails. 

Olson said she met DOC Secretary Jared Hoy at an event on June 5 and that they had a great discussion about the potential benefits of a tribal liaison at the agency.

“With the uncertainties surrounding federal funding, we are hopeful state funding will be increased to tribal programs in Wisconsin,” Olson said.

The tribe’s criminal justice work involves partnership with the DOC. In the St. Croix Tribal Reintegration Program, case managers work with tribal members before and after their release from prison or jail, the tribe said. The program has a memo of understanding with the Department of Corrections, providing guidance for working relationships between tribal reentry and probation.

All of the governor’s cabinet agencies have consultation policies that say how they will work with tribal governments. Agencies and tribal elected officials have annual consultation meetings to talk about programs, laws and funding that may affect the tribe. 

Discussions at the annual state-tribal consultation tend to be about high-level policy, but they can delve into specifics, Greendeer said. He gave an example related to tribal members who are on probation or parole. 

“For example, a topic that keeps coming up is re-entry programming for enrolled tribal member offenders,” Greendeer said. “A concern discussed at a recent consultation was that probation/parole officers might not consider tribal norms/values, citing a lack of eye contact in saying a client is disengaged or disconnected.”

The co-chairs and vice-chairs of the Joint Finance Committee did not respond to requests for comment. DOC communications director Beth Hardtke did not answer a question from the Examiner about the responsibilities and goals of the tribal liaison position.

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES.

SUBSCRIBE

Local advocacy organization JOSHUA held a prayer vigil outside Green Bay Correctional Institution. | Photo by Andrew Kennard for Wisconsin Examiner

Wisconsin Gov. Tony Evers included a prison accountability office in recommendations for the upcoming state budget. That proposal was tossed out by the state Legislature, along with hundreds of others made by Evers. And so far, prison reform advocates haven’t found a Republican sponsor for a separate bill. 

The proposed Office of the Ombudsperson for Corrections would conduct investigations, inspect prison facilities and make recommendations to prisons in response to complaints. The proposal would cost about $2.1 million from 2025-2027. 

Deaths of prisoners, staffing problems and lawsuits have drawn attention to serious problems in Wisconsin’s prison system. 

“How many more millions of dollars are we going to spend in fighting lawsuits, dealing with litigation?” said Susan Franzen of the Ladies of SCI. The prison reform advocacy group wants to see independent oversight of the Wisconsin Department of Corrections. 

“We’re willing to spend that money, but we’re not willing to take a million dollars to put something in place that can help start addressing these things and eventually get proactive, so we don’t have all this litigation going on against the Department of Corrections,” Franzen said.

“Unfortunately, [Evers] sends us an executive budget that’s just piles full of stuff that doesn’t make sense and spends recklessly and raises taxes and has way too much policy,” Joint Finance Committee co-chair Rep. Mark Born (R-Beaver Dam) said in May, after the committee killed more than 600 items in Evers’ budget proposal. “So, we’ll work from base and the first step of that today is to remove all that policy… and then begin the work of rebuilding the budget.”

Meanwhile, the Wisconsin Department of Corrections has already partnered with Falcon Correctional and Community Services, Inc., a consulting and management firm, for a third-party review. 

The Falcon partnership includes a comprehensive study of the Division of Adult Institutions’ health care program, behavioral health program, correctional practices and restrictive housing practices, the Examiner reported. The study was projected to take six months. 

What Republican lawmakers are saying

In February, Gov. Tony Evers laid out a plan for changes to the prison system, including closing Green Bay Correctional Institution and updating Waupun Correctional Institution.

Rep. Jerry O’Connor (R-Fond Du Lac), vice chair of the Assembly Committee on Corrections, said “our first priority” is addressing staff shortages in various areas, ranging from guards to social workers. 

For the most recent pay period, the DOC reported a vacancy rate of 16% for correctional officers and sergeants at adult facilities. Columbia Correctional Institution has the highest vacancy rate among adult facilities, at 35.4%. Waupun and Green Bay Correctional Institutions have vacancy rates over 20%. 

The second priority O’Connor listed in an email to the Examiner is the hundreds of millions of dollars needed for facility reorganization. 

“Based on the pressing financial requests for address[ing] critical staffing shortages and housing issues, I do not see [the governor’s recommendation for an ombudsperson office] getting passed or funded,” O’Connor said.

Senate President Mary Felzkowski (R-Tomahawk) criticized the potential structure of the ombudsperson’s office, Wisconsin Public Radio reported in February. 

“De facto lifetime appointments (which the ombudsperson appears to be), almost a dozen new bureaucrats, and millions of dollars are not creative solutions,” Felzkowski said, according to WPR.

Would the ombudsperson be independent? 

To Franzen, “it feels like we’re back to square one, with the original plan of trying to get a bill, and we’ll keep trying,” she said. 

Ladies of SCI Executive Director Rebecca Aubart said she is still hopeful about finding a Republican to sponsor an ombudsman office. 

Aubart said she’s heard support for oversight of the DOC, , “but it just appears that nobody’s willing to stick their neck out to be the one to sponsor it,” she said. 

The Examiner reported in October that 20 states had an independent prison oversight body. Michele Deitch, director of the Prison and Jail Innovation Lab, wrote about independent oversight in an essay published by the Brennan Center in 2021. 

“They can identify troubling practices early, and bring these concerns to administrators’ attention for remediation before the problems turn into scandals, lawsuits, or deaths,” Deitch wrote. “They can share best practices and strategies that have worked in other facilities to encourage a culture of improvement.”

The proposed Office of the Ombudsperson for Corrections was described in a summary of the governor’s corrections budget recommendations. It would be attached to the Department of Corrections. 

Officials in the Evers administration said the office would operate in a “‘functionally independent’” manner, Wisconsin Public Radio reported in February.

Franzen said she’d rather it be completely separate from the DOC, but would support any movement toward some type of oversight at this point. Aubart said independence is a “cornerstone to any ombudsman.”

What would the office do?

The proposed office’s powers include conducting investigations, having witnesses subpoenaed, inspecting facilities at any time and examining records held by the DOC.

If the ombudsperson made a recommendation to a prison regarding a complaint from a prisoner at the facility, a warden would have 30 days to reply. The warden would have to specify “what actions they have taken as a result of the recommendations and why they are taking or not taking those actions.” 

If there was reason to believe a public official or employee has broken a law or requires discipline, the ombudsperson could refer the issue to the appropriate authorities. 

The ombudsperson would report to the governor at the governor’s request. Each year, the ombudsperson would submit a report of findings and recommended improvements to policies and practices at state correctional institutions, as well as the results of investigations. 

Mark Rice, transformational justice campaign coordinator at the advocacy coalition WISDOM, said he also wants to see an additional mechanism to hold the Wisconsin Department of Corrections accountable. 

“Currently incarcerated people, and people who have loved ones who are currently incarcerated, need to really be more at the center of decision-making,” Rice said. 

The co-chairs and vice-chairs of the Joint Committee on Finance did not respond to the Examiner’s requests for comment. 

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES.

SUBSCRIBE

Reading Time: 3 minutes

Click here to read highlights from the story

• People cannot send money to Wisconsin prisoners directly. They can instead transfer funds through a company called Access Corrections. 

• The private company’s website, app, phone and in-person delivery systems are no longer working across the state. 

• Access Corrections is part of the conglomerate that also runs the prison’s phone system, which has failed in recent months.

Editor’s note, May 27, 2025: The Access Corrections website was back online on May 26. Multiple people told WPR and Wisconsin Watch they could transfer funds to Wisconsin prisoners following the restoration.

The online system Wisconsin prisoners rely on to receive money from loved ones recently crashed, leaving them unable to pay for items like extra food and hygiene products. 

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections contracts a private company, Access Corrections, to allow people outside of prison to transfer funds to those inside. Those transfers occur through the company’s app, website, phone system, mail and in-person options. But multiple people told WPR and Wisconsin Watch they could not make deposits beginning this week. 

The Access Corrections website and app display nothing more than a white screen and the message: “Sorry, the service you’re looking for is currently unavailable.”

Those who dial an Access Corrections phone number hear a recorded message saying the company can’t take deposits online or over the phone and that it is working to resolve the issue. 

In-person deposits at locations throughout Wisconsin are also unavailable, according to an affiliate’s website. It is unclear whether physical mail deposits still work. 

Access Corrections operates deposit systems nationwide, the Wisconsin Department of Corrections says on its website. The company is part of Keefe Group, a conglomerate that includes ICSolutions, which runs a glitchy prison phone system that has left Wisconsin families disconnected in recent months. 

A Department of Corrections spokesperson said she was working on a response, which did not arrive by this story’s deadline. 

The Keefe Group did not respond to multiple requests for comment. 

Robin Guenterberg typically sends his daughter at Taycheedah Correctional Institution $300 a month, with Access Corrections collecting a fee. 

His daughter, who he requested not be publicly named, uses most of that money to buy items  from the prison’s commissary. She has a chronic health condition and relies on commissary chicken and tuna packets to supplement regularly provided meals, Guenterberg said. 

The daughter has lost more than 20 pounds since entering prison late last year, Guenterberg said, adding that he and his wife purchase vending machine items during visits and make additional deposits to help their daughter maintain a healthy weight. 

If Access Corrections fails to quickly restart deposits, she may lack funds to place a commissary order for next week, Guenterberg said.

Sarah Liebzeit successfully added funds to her incarcerated son’s account late Monday night. But issues with his prison-provided electronic tablet have prevented him from spending it at Stanley Correctional Institution, she said.

“This is now another issue because the tablets have been just horrible,” Liebzeit said. 

Some incarcerated people work low-wage jobs inside their prison. Their pay falls short of covering phone calls, extra food, hygiene products and medical co-pays without outside deposits, multiple family members told WPR and Wisconsin Watch. 

Nicole Johnson said her incarcerated boyfriend earns $20 every two weeks at his Dodge Correctional Institution job. Wisconsin’s typical copay charge of $7.50 per face-to-face medical visit is among the highest in the country — more than half of his weekly earnings. 

Johnson said she tries to add $50 to her boyfriend’s account twice a month so he can purchase rice and beans to supplement regularly provided meals. 

“It’s just how I take care of him right now,” she said.

The Access Corrections crash, she added, “makes me sad because I don’t want him to be hungry all freaking week.”

Vendor failure means Wisconsin prisoners can’t buy food or other items 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.