Category: Prison Conditions

New OIG Report Contains Scathing Critique of CDCR’s PPE Protocol

On August 17, the Office of the Inspector General issued a report severely criticizing CDCR for its lax gatekeeping and symptom-checking practices. Today sees the publication of a new report, which addresses CDCR’s astonishingly lax PPE protocols.

Here’s a longish excerpt from the executive summary. I wanted to abbreviate, but decided it was best to let it speak for itself:

Beginning in March 2020, in an attempt to mitigate the spread of COVID-19 among its staff and incarcerated population, the department issued multiple statewide memoranda establishing its expectations and requirements regarding PPE, face coverings, and physical distancing. In April, to ensure its staff and incarcerated population had access to face coverings, the department purchased and distributed cloth face coverings manufactured by the California Prison Industry Authority and required that staff and incarcerated persons wear them in the prisons at almost all times. Although the department has since revised some of its directives, requirements governing the use of PPE, face coverings, and physical distancing remain in force as of October 2020
Despite nationwide shortages early in the COVID-19 pandemic, we found that the department was generally able to maintain supplies of PPE for its staff. Early in the pandemic, the department activated an operations center, which the department tasked with coordinating its efforts to respond to the COVID-19 pandemic. The operations center played a key role in evaluating and redirecting prisons’ PPE inventory as necessary. Our observations and interviews with staff at five sampled prisons suggest the department’s efforts in obtaining and distributing adequate supplies of PPE to its prisons were mostly successful. During our visits to those five prisons, we reviewed the prisons’ PPE inventories and spoke to various staff throughout the prisons, including those in the prisons’ health care clinics. During our visits, we generally observed staff in health care areas wearing appropriate PPE, and staff members we interviewed consistently stated that they had access to appropriate PPE, with just a few exceptions during the pandemic.
In addition, since April 2, the department has purchased more than 752,000 cloth face coverings produced by the California Prison Industry Authority, and by April 9 had delivered more than half of those face coverings to prisons for use by staff and incarcerated persons. The department generally appeared to be successful in distributing the face coverings to staff and incarcerated persons. During multiple routine monitoring visits, our staff rarely observed departmental staff or incarcerated persons who did not clearly possess face coverings.
However, although the department distributed face coverings to its staff and incarcerated population, and the department issued memoranda communicating face covering and physical distancing requirements, we found that staff and incarcerated persons frequently failed to follow those requirements. As part of our customary monitoring activities that occurred between May 19, 2020, and July 29, 2020, our staff frequently reported observing departmental staff failing to comply with face covering guidelines during our staff’s multiple visits to 23 of the department’s 35 prisons. For example, during a visit to one prison, the Inspector General and Chief Deputy Inspector General observed multiple prison executives improperly wearing face coverings during a meeting that also included the prison’s warden, who did not attempt to correct the noncompliance.
Our observations were also supported by the departmental staff we surveyed at several prisons. To obtain prison employees’ perspectives, we surveyed all staff at seven prisons—more than 12,000 staff members. Of the departmental staff who responded to our survey, 31 percent reported they had observed staff or incarcerated persons failing to properly wear face coverings. Regarding physical distancing, 38 percent of the staff who responded to the survey stated they had observed staff or incarcerated persons not complying with physical distancing requirements.
The frequent noncompliance by staff and incarcerated persons was likely caused at least in part by the department’s supervisors’ and managers’ lax enforcement of the requirements. Despite the department’s then-Secretary’s statements during a legislative hearing on July 1, 2020, asserting that the department was enforcing its face covering requirements, and despite a memorandum the department issued on the same day, stating that it was vital for staff to adhere to face covering directives, we found that the department’s enforcement efforts have been very limited. In fact, based on records provided to us by five sampled prisons, prison supervisors and managers had taken just 29 actions—over a period spanning seven months—for noncompliance with the department’s face covering or physical distancing requirements.
One of the five prisons, California Institution for Men, provided no documentation of any disciplinary actions, and another of the five prisons, San Quentin State Prison, provided documentation of just one action. We found that almost all the actions that supervisors and managers took were instances of verbal counseling or written counseling, the lowest levels of the progressive discipline process. We also found that supervisors’ and managers’ failure to enforce COVID-19 requirements was not limited to the five prisons. Our staff reviewed every formal request for investigation and punitive action for the entire department since February 1, 2020, and we found that hiring authorities statewide only requested formal investigations or punitive actions for misconduct related to face covering or physical distancing requirements for seven of the department’s more than 63,000 staff members. We find that number surprisingly low, given the prevalence of noncompliance observed by our staff and by the departmental staff we surveyed.
In addition to inadequately enforcing its face covering requirements, the department perplexingly loosened those requirements at the same time it reported increasing numbers of cases of COVID-19 among both its staff and incarcerated population. Despite the increasing cases of COVID-19 in its prisons, the department sent memoranda on June 11 and June 24 relaxing face covering requirements for staff and incarcerated persons, respectively. The updated requirements allowed staff and incarcerated persons to remove their face coverings when they were outside and were at least six feet away from other individuals. Considering the volatile nature of a prison environment, the potential increased difficulty in enforcing the updated requirements, and the possibility that the virus could be spread even when people maintained a distance of six feet from others, the department’s relaxed requirements appeared to unnecessarily increase the risk of COVID-19’s spread among the staff and incarcerated population.
As of October 7, 2020, the department has reported the deaths of 69 incarcerated persons and 10 staff members due to COVID-19. Considering the risk that individuals without symptoms can spread COVID-19, and considering increasing evidence from the scientific community that face coverings are effective in slowing the spread of COVID-19, it is essential that the department’s staff and incarcerated population consistently wear face coverings whenever there is a chance they may come into close contact with other individuals. However, unless departmental management clearly communicates consistent face covering guidelines that are enforceable, and effectively ensures that its managers and supervisors consistently take disciplinary action when they observe noncompliance, the department will continue to undermine its ability to enforce basic safety protocols such as wearing face coverings and practicing physical distancing, thereby increasing the risk of additional, preventable infections of COVID-19 among its staff and incarcerated population.

After last week’s demonstrations of bad faith, I thought nothing could astonish me further. But what’s amazing about all this is that, throughout our litigation efforts in Marin County and in Von Staich, CDCR argued with a straight face that population reduction was unnecessary because they did such a good job distributing PPE and keeping protocols–and were then praised in the decision for doing so! Justice Kline wrote:

Respondents’ contention that the measures they have taken constitute a reasonable response to the risk posed by COVID-19 misconstrues the petition. Petitioner and the scientists he relies upon do not say the measures respondents took to combat the outbreak of COVID-19 at San Quentin are unreasonable in and of themselves, but only because they are unaccompanied by a dramatic reduction of the prison population, which is a sine qua non of any reasonable remedial effort. The target of the petition is not what respondents have done but what they refuse to do. None of the commendable steps respondents have taken to contain the spread of COVID-19 will be effectual, petitioner and his experts maintain, unless considerable room is made for inmates to physically distance themselves from one another effectively because, in the absence of a vaccine, physical distancing is now by far the most effective way of limiting transmission of COVID-19.

Except, as we now find out, the steps they boasted about taking, which the Court was misled into thinking were actually taken, were far from commendable! And in fact, could be “unreasonable in and of themselves.” You could bring a brand new deliberate indifferent lawsuit just on the basis of the OIG findings, without even getting into their resistance to reduce the population.

Just as one example of the rampant bad faith, here’s an image I screencaptured from the OIG report. It depicts a staff meeting at CSP-LAC which took place on June 3, a few days after catastrophe struck at San Quentin–and a whole month after CSP-LAC itself saw a serious outbreak.

Unsurprisingly, after the infection was already thought to have abated at CSP-LAC, there was a second outbreak.

It is especially unconscionable for me to read about the reluctance of prison administration to enforce mask wearing via punitive means–not because I think punitive means actually help (I’ve written plenty about why they are counterproductive) but because they have such a voracious appetite for handing out complaints, 115s, and 128s, at every occasion. When I worked on Yesterday’s Monsters, and when I read Kitty Calavita and Valerie Jenness’ book Appealing to Justice, I was dumbfounded by some of the silly minutiae that people got write-ups for (and then had to explain away, decades later, at their parole hearings.) It is astounding that a system that has an appetite for writing people up for having a quarter (yes, $0.25) in their pockets on a plastic spoon (miswritten as a knife) is so shy about penalizing its own staff (and the prison population itself) for not wearing masks.

All this is making me realize how right Peter Chin-Hong was when he said, at our June 9 press conference, that “prisons are incompatible with public health.” He’s now in good company: the American Public Health Association has issued a declaration that indicts the entire system for its contribution to social ills. As regular readers know, I’m not a great fan of sweeping slogans, but strip the declaration of all the tiresome jargon and you get to the bottom of the issue: it is outrageous to subject people to a system that makes all of us worse off, even at the lowest rungs of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

***

I also have a loosely-related coda: Twitter is awash with festivities over Governor Newsom’s amicus brief in McDaniel, in which he argues that ““California’s capital punishment scheme is now, and always has been, infected by racism.” If that is so, I call on Governor Newsom to account for the fact that more than twice as many people have died of COVID-19 at San Quentin during his moratorium than were executed in the entire state of California since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1978. The number of death row COVID casualties equaled the number of pre-moratorium executions as early as June 29. If the death penalty is such a disgrace to the Governor–and I agree, it is indeed–why are people still dying on death row, in larger numbers, and why are we still paying for it? The key to this problem is obvious, it’s in the Governor’s hands, and it has nothing to do with amicus briefs. All of these sentences, as well as LWOP sentences, could be commuted today.

CDCR, Don’t Play Tetris with Human Lives

In her 2018 book Building the Prison State, my colleague Heather Schoenfeld provides a retrospective of the incarceration explosion in Florida. The root of the problem–the situation that facilitated the astronomical growth in Florida’s correctional apparatus–was no other than Costello v. Wainwright, a prisoner’s rights case that focused on remedying prison overcrowding.

To understand what happened in Costello we must keep in mind that Florida’s population grew by two million throughout the sixties. That, in combination with an actual rise in crime and the emergence of new, Nixon-sponsored policing techniques, meant that between 1968 and 1972 the prison population grew by 31 percent. This resulted in the horrors and indignities of overcrowding with which we are very familiar in California.

Civil rights attorney Toby Simon, who represented the prison population in Costello, wanted to pursue change–but so did the prison warden. Wainwright was amidst a modernization project, and saw the overcrowded and outdated facilities as hurdles in his path to implement more rehabilitative programming behind bars. Finally, in 1979, a consent decree was reached: Judge Scott ordered a population reduction, and left the method to the state’s discretion. Since the entire Florida system was overcrowded, Wainwright was unable to reduce overcrowding by moving inmates from facility to facility. He had two available courses of action: releasing prisoners (via good behavior or parole) or increasing capacity (via building more prisons.) The consent decree gave equal weight to both strategies.

You can guess what happened: the consent decree gave discretion to the wrong people at the wrong time, and the choice was cynically exploited. Politics in Florida took a decidedly conservative turn, and in the ensuing law-and-order atmosphere, releasing inmates was a non-starter. More prisons were built, and the ensuing outcome followed the classic line from Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come.”

Throughout the book, Schoenfeld emphasizes that the disastrous outcomes of the implementation of Costello could have been avoided. I’m not sure I’d go quite that far; I worry that implying that civil rights attorneys have to take into account the cynical exploitation of vaguely decided victories could have the undesirable effect of discouraging them from pursuing remedies for the prison population. But here’s where I completely agree with Schoenfeld: the combination of judicial remedies open to discretion and interpretation with bad-faith actors looking for loopholes because of concerns about political expedience and posturing can be, and indeed has been, poison.

There are important differences between California and Florida, and between the situation in the post-Costello 1980s and the post-Von Staich scenario we have now. But there is an important similarity, and it is this: Population reduction orders that offer the correctional apparatus the option between releases and something else pretty much guarantee that the correctional apparatus will scramble to do the “something else.” In the situation we’re facing now, we’re not going to build new prisons (I think), so instead, in the next few days, we are likely to see CDCR playing a lot of Tetris with human lives.

I would like to caution as emphatically as possible against this course of action. It’s obvious from the decision in Von Staich that this is not what the Court wanted. The opinion didn’t go on and on about elderly, infirm people who have done decades in prison for violent crimes for no reason at all. Would it really hurt so much to consider this? What would be the downside?

Honestly, this is what I think truly worries CDCR officials. As California gradually reopens, we are bound to see somewhat of an uptick in street crime. Crime rates in California, as elsewhere in the nation, are at their lowest rates since the 1960s, and they were further impacted by COVID-19, because the need to shelter in place changed the opportunity structure for committing crime. There are considerably fewer burglary and car break-in opportunities with everyone at home and vigilant in their neighborhoods. Violent crime (with the exception of stress-exacerbated domestic violence) is also down.

It strikes me as a pretty solid prediction that, as the state continues to reopen, these numbers will reverse themselves to a small degree–regardless of who and how many people are released from prison. But there is the very real concern that the media might foment public hysteria about rising crime rates and tie them causally to releases. You will recall that the same thing happened after Realignment (hysteria, no corresponding rise in crime), Prop. 47 (hysteria, no corresponding rise in crime) and after Prop. 57 (hysteria, no corresponding rise in crime.)

Against the tendency to do the political expedient thing, the only thing to do is to exhort our state officials to be responsible adults and rein in CDCR’s appetite for playing Tetris with human lives. The most tragic outcome of Von Staich might be a choice to round up the young and healthy folks and transfer them, untested and unsequestered, to another prison, where this catastrophe could play out again. Even if we get lucky, and it doesn’t, it leaves the older, more infirm people in a facility that is ill-equipped to serve their health needs. What we need is a tribune who will do the right thing and stop this predictable-but-counterproductive pattern from playing out. I think Gov. Newsom can be that tribune, and I urge him to exercise his power to make real, lasting change.

Moving Forward Toward Relief for San Quentin Population

Yesterday’s Court of Appeal order in In re Von Staich has reverberated in the media: SF Chronicle, more SF Chronicle, ABC7, KTVU, CBS5.

Today, the ramifications of Von Staich started seeping into other legal proceedings on behalf of incarcerated people. Evidentiary hearings were scheduled for this coming Friday in the Marin Superior Court consolidated cases pending before Judge Howard. But the Von Staich opinion upended this, because the Court of Appeal found that the question of deliberate indifference was a matter of law and could be determined on the basis of the evidence submitted by the Von Staich team.

At today’s case management conference, Judge Howard vacated the evidentiary hearing, now rendered moot by the appellate decision, and scheduled expedited briefing for the habeas petitioners and for CDCR. Unsurprisingly, the Attorney General representative said that they were not going to know (read: reveal) what their strategy is until they run out of days to appeal Von Staich, so the judge took that into account when scheduling the briefs, saying, “”we would all like to know what CDCR wants to do, but we can’t come to a screeching halt until you make your decision.”

Other issues emerged that revealed the underlying tensions between the Von Staich decision and where petitioners and respondents, respectively, ultimately want to be. For one thing, some (but not all) of the petitioners in the Marin cases belong to the group that the Court of Appeal singled out in its decision–60-year-olds who have been incarcerated for 25 years or more. For another, the last thing petitioners want (and the last thing any of us needs) is for CDCR to transfer people. In light of this, Petitioners’ lawyers asked that their clients not be transferred; CDCR, predictably, objected, and Judge Howard explained that he could not order such a thing without knowing the particulars of each person, nor would such an order be in the spirit of Von Staich, which explicitly gave CDCR the option to transfer people to solve the problem.

This is not merely a procedural issue: Petitioners’ lawyers are worried about the tragedies that could result from CDCR opting to solve the problem they have by playing Tetris with human lives. There are at least three reasons why this would be a horrible idea. First, which should be obvious by now, the San Quentin catastrophe is itself the result of a botched transfer, so CDCR can hardly marvel at being mistrusted with transfers given their track record. Second, moving people between facilities might be an immediate solution for CDCR as they face judicial wrath about their indifference and ineptitude, but it merely postpones (and likely hinders) a solution for the statewide COVID problem pending in the federal case. Keep in mind that, in addition to the Quentin mess, Plata v. Newsom addresses numerous serious outbreaks in other facilities, including reinfections, hospitalizations, and deaths. And third, the careful balance CDCR has been trying to strike (falling far short of a 50% reduction mark) has been achieved largely through a temporary halt on transfers from jails, but the jails are now bursting at the seams and experiencing their own serious outbreaks. In other words, something’s gotta give if this pattern of obfuscation and cosmetics continues.

Another astounding moment came toward the end of the conference, when the lawyers asked the judge to allow them to continue speaking with their clients on the phone. Even after everything we’ve seen from the AG and CDCR in the last few months, I was still stunned to hear the AG representative demanding that the judge limit the phone hours to ten (the judge settled on 15.) Whenever I wonder what’s driving this behavior, which so often crosses the line from obfuscation and petulance into bad faith territory, I remind myself that we haven’t even begun seeing the litigation consequences of the San Quentin disaster, and that inevitably, CDCR will be facing an enormous civil suit, which they will likely lose. This could mean considerable monetary damages in addition to the injunctions we’re seeing now and could explain a lot.

As I think about the next steps, I realize how similar this situation is (on a particular institutional scale) to what we saw on a statewide scale in Plata between 2009 and 2011. Jerry Brown, then the Attorney General, fought the decision tooth and nail all the way to the Supreme Court. But as Governor (elected in 2010), he addressed it in a more sensible manner, coming up with a release strategy. This is the time for Governor Newsom to step in, be the responsible adult that he is, and expand his expedited release plan to include the category of people that the Court of Appeal singled out: people aged 60 and older, incarcerated for 25 years or longer. Swift executive action along sane, reasonable lines could reduce the temperature of this whole thing far below the boiling point and save lives that might be lost or irreparably harmed if we wait for briefs, oral arguments, and bickering about transfers. Governor Newsom is the one who stepped into the fray in 2004 when our friends and neighbors needed to get married, and is also the one who moved forward to dismantle the death chamber. He needs to put on his battle gear and do the right thing for all of us once more.

50% Population Reduction Order at Quentin. What Now?

Now that we’ve had a couple of hours to digest the good news about the population reduction order from In re Von Staich, it’s time to start thinking about next steps. What happens now at San Quentin, in other prisons and jails, and in the courts? Here are some of my initial thoughts on the topic–feel free to share yours.

How can CDCR and Quentin comply with the order? The order is not dissimilar from the Brown v. Plata order: it requires a population reduction, but doesn’t bind the prison to a particular way of achieving it. They could do any number of things. The best case scenario is one in which they heed the Court of Appeal’s strong recommendation to expedite the release of everyone who is over 60 and has done 25 years or more, but I’m not holding my breath. They could also transfer people into other prisons, keeping the aging old-timers inside, in which case they’ll still be in compliance with Von Staich – they’ll be giving the folks inside more room for social distancing. How they can accomplish this without touching the very people they needed to release first but won’t (folks who are sick and have aged out of crime) is largely a numbers game. These folks are about 30% of the prison population, and without even touching this category, it’s dubious that they’ll be in compliance with the order.

Is CDCR going to appeal? What will they argue? Of course they’re going to appeal. Is there any doubt? This process has been saturated in bad faith and obstinacy, and that animus is likely to continue. On appeal, they will likely argue that the decision not to hold evidentiary hearings (as they are holding in the Marin cases and in Plata) was hasty and unfounded, and that their mishandling of the crisis does not rise to “deliberate indifference.” It’s going to be pretty difficult for them to argue that the remedy is excessively burdensome given how much latitude they were given. They only have 15 days to pull together an appeal, so we’ll find out pretty soon. Whether or not CDCR will get a stay from the Supreme Court is another interesting question. If they don’t, they’ll have to work simultaneously on their appeal and on their population reduction strategy. This scenario closely resembles what happened in the late 2000s, when Plata was making its way from the federal panel to the Supreme Court: The Attorney General (then Jerry Brown) fought tooth and nail against the order, while at the same time considering the legislative “fix” that became the Public Safety Realignment (AB 109.)

What does this mean for jail transfers into San Quentin? The opinion itself says that, so far, much of the population reduction that CDCR boasts was achieved via a temporary halt of transfers. This has had the unfortunate effect of exacerbating COVID-19 in overcrowded jails; the horrific outbreaks, isolations, quarantining, and misleading information about Santa Rita is a case in point. This is not a good long-term solution, obviously, but whether or not they will use this as their population reduction mechanism depends on how pressured they are to find a more general solution to COVID in the entire system.

What does this mean for other prisons? I have similar thoughts on this. The decision explicitly says that, if CDCR officials feel that they can’t appropriately guarantee public safety via releases (they can, but okay) they can resort to transfers. The problem–which the decision also flags–is that this whole catastrophe started with a transfer in the first place. Can CDCR be trusted to transfer people out to prisons with no or low COVID numbers in a safe manner–that is, by testing and isolating them? And can they be trusted to cooperate with health officials in the surrounding/bordering counties to guarantee that there’s no corresponding spike in the new country? Their record has been abysmal, but that’s not to say they won’t try.

How is this going to impact Plata v. Newsom? The short answer: it’s not. The litigation in Plata addresses the entire system and is all-encompassing. The long answer is that it’s complicated. The factual findings in Plata might change based on whatever transpires in the aftermath of Von Staich. If CDCR chooses to respond to Von Staich with transfers, and these cause further outbreaks, the scope of litigation in Plata, and the remedy, will change accordingly.

How is this going to impact the Marin Consolidated Cases? This is a far more interesting question, because the Marin cases are scheduled for an evidentiary hearing on October 26. One of the fierce battles in Von Staich was over the need for an evidentiary hearing: the AG representative implored the court to “not act hastily” and to find out facts; Justice Kline replied, “yes we do, yes we do, we do need to act hastily.” In the opinion, he wrote that CDCR denied all the allegations made by petitioners, but made no effort to counter them with evidence of their own. One possibility, based on this opinion, is that the attorneys for the Marin petitioners will argue that Von Staich, decided by a higher court, now governs the case, and that instead there needs to be a focus on how CDCR implements the remedy. If the AG representatives argue that they want the hearing nonetheless, that puts them in conflict with Von Staich, even though there’s no formal estoppel (different petitioners.) It’s going to be interesting, for sure.

What should we do next? Well, we need to sit tight and watch what CDCR/the AG’s office does. In the meantime, it is imperative to do the following:

Reach out to CDCR with concrete, sane, practical proposals for a 50% population reduction, such as the ones that Jason Fagone lists in this Chron article.
Put enormous pressure on Gov. Newsom to modify his inadequate release plan in line with Justice Kline’s recommendations.
Embark on a huge education campaign about the catastrophic risks of transfers, such as the ones that brought about the calamity at Quentin in the first place.

BREAKING NEWS: California Court of Appeal Orders 50% Population Reduction at San Quentin

I am thrilled to provide this update: We won In re Von Staich, the habeas corpus case challenging CDCR’s mishandling of the COVID-19 crisis at San Quentin. Justice Kline wrote: “We agree that respondents–the Warden and CDCR–have acted with deliberate indifference and relief is warranted.” Here is an analysis of the opinion.

Justice Kline begins by stating the magnitude of the San Quentin catastrophe. Even against the horrific history of disease and contagion in prisons–including three separate spikes of the Spanish Flu in 1918–the San Quentin COVID-19 outbreak is “the worst epidemiological disaster in California correctional history.” He then highlights the physicians’ urgent memo (published after they visited San Quentin, at the Receiver’s invitation) recommending a 50% reduction of the prison population. CDCR’s response fell far short of this: between March and August 2020 they achieved a mere 23% reduction, “accomplished, in part, by suspending intake at San Quentin from county jails, which has increased the presence of COVID-19 in those local facilities, and is not likely sustainable.”

Justice Kline then rejects the evasive maneuvers employed by the AG’s office, who tried to play jurisdictional hide-and-seek by claiming that the San Quentin litigation effort was somehow “duplicative” of the federal case Plata v. Newsom. First, the court wrote, San Quentin is a particular, antiquated prison with specific problems, which are not the focus of the federal litigation. Second, these habeas cases are designed to ask for temporary relief, rather than the more systematic remedies sought in Plata. Third, state courts are not limited and bound by the PLRA, as federal courts are. And fourth, which I found inspiring, state courts have the duty and competence to vindicate rights under the California Constitution (which, just like the U.S. Constitution, forbids cruel and unusual punishment–albeit worded slightly differently.)

The court also rejected the AG’s office’s delay tactics, asking that the case be moved back to the Superior Court and/or that an evidentiary hearing be held. As Justice Kline explains, the AG’s declarations that the doctors have it wrong and that a 50% reduction is unnecessary were “conclusions the Attorney General has failed to support with any factual allegations contradicting petitioner’s allegations,” which were based on scientists’ and physicians’ declarations–even with testimony from their own prison physicians. Under these circumstances, “the issue before us is simply whether respondents’ disregard of the experts’ conclusion that a 50 percent population reduction is essential constitutes the ‘deliberate indifference’ necessary to sustain petitioner’s constitutional claim. The issue is one of law, not fact.”

Was CDCR’s response to the risk of infection–of which they concede they were subjectively aware–adequate? They established a central command; installed a tent structure; repurposed the chapel and a furniture factory to care for COVID-19 patients; provided PPE to the population and staff; and released 947 people. At the hearing, the AG representatives claimed that the reduction in case numbers at San Quentin was thanks to these efforts.

The Court of Appeal vehemently disagreed. Relying on the analysis of experts, the Court agreed with us that the reduction in cases was not because, but despite, CDCR’s behavior. The decision quotes Dr. Beyrer: “Had San Quentin done nothing, the rates of infection there would have been roughly the same.” And, while the steps the prison took to alleviate the risk were commendable, they were insufficient without the population reduction, which they refused to do.

The next bit is especially interesting. The AG boasted that they managed to bring the prison population down to a bit more than 100%. Of course, as Justice Kline writes, in a facility such as San Quentin, full occupancy cannot allow for the social distancing needed to fight the pandemic. He quotes extensively from AMEND’s urgent memo, which detailed conditions in specific areas of the prison, notably North Block and West Block, showing that the combination of crowding and high-risk people was unsustainable. What interests me most about this is the extent to which the AG’s office and CDCR have become habituated to the toxic perspective according to which having their prisons 100% is a desirable end, rather than an unhealthy point of departure. We’ve had bloated prisons bursting at the seams for so long that we seem to think that a full prison at “only” 100% is fine.

The opinion then hits the nail on the head: as I explained elsewhere, the release plans are specifically designed to exclude people serving time for “a violent crime as defined by law” when such people are approximately 30% of the prison population. The AG argued that this is reasonable policy, because they, as opposed to the physicians who authored the memo, have to take into account public safety. To that, the Court has two replies. First, the prison authorities may resolve the Quentin problem not just through releases, but through transfers (though the court does mention that a botched transfer is what started this catastrophe in the first place. Second, and more importantly, even from a public safety perspective, lifers are the most obvious target population for release: they don’t pose public safety risks because they’ve aged out of crime, and they themselves face a heightened risk for COVID-19. Justice Kline writes: “Exclusion of lifers and other older prisoners who have committed violent offenses and served lengthy prison terms is also difficult to defend, given their low risk for future violence and high risk of infection and serious illness from the virus.”

Justice Kline spends several pages citing robust legal, sociological, and medical materials to show the folly of excluding lifers and strikers from release programs. He refers not only to steps taken by the CA legislature, but to the robust literature on life-course criminology, which constantly finds age a significant factor in desistance. Despite their authority to order the release of aging people who committed violent crimes, and statistics about prison demographics that they themselves provide, the AG’s insistence on mostly ignoring this category of obvious release candidates “render[s] it doubtful whether a 50 percent reduction in San Quentin’s population could soon take place.”

This behavior by prison authorities satisfies the “deliberate indifference” standard; they conceded they knew the risk, and they are recklessly failing to take the necessary steps physicians recommended, while not providing any factual justification. The continued use of spaces in which people sleep in close proximity “is not merely negligent, it is reckless”–and “the recklessness is aggravated by respondents’ refusal to consider the expedited release, or transfer, of prisoners who are serving time for violent offenses but who have aged out of a propensity for violence.”

As to petitioner, Ivan Von Staich, the Court has ordered his immediate release from San Quentin. Von Staich was recommended for parole on October 16, but the Governor can weigh his case for four months, and in the meantime he must be released or transferred to a different facility. In addition, the Court agreed that the habeas corpus process allows them to extend relief to similarly situated people. However, the Court opines that “it would be inappropriate to order the release of prisoners we considerd vulnerable even if we thought we had the power to do so in this proceeding.” The Court raises three concerns in this respect: one, that medical vulnerability is a question of “scientific facts, not law”; two, that they are unsure whether they can extend relief to people who did not file a habeas petition; and three, that the appropriate social distancing via releases/transfers can be created not only by transferring vulnerable prisoners out of San Quentin, but also by releasing other people in sufficient numbers to allow for social distancing or the remaining prisoners.

“Nevertheless,” writes Justice Kline, “we are not without means to expedite the release or transfer from San Quentin of more inmates than are now deemed eligible for release.” These means are provided by Section 1484 of the California Penal Code, which allows the Court such course of action. The Court cites numerous California cases that involved injunctive relief through Habeas. By this authority, the Court orders CDCR to bring the CDCR population down to 50%–“no more than 1,775 inmates.” The Court leaves the manner of doing so in the hands of CDCR, though Justice Kline does offer, as possibilities, “expanding eligibility for the two expedited release programs currently limited to inmates not serving sentences for violent offenses to inmates like Petitioner, who are over age 60 and completed minimum terms of at least 25 years.” Note that, despite the Court’s conciliatory words that CDCR is free to achieve the population reduction in whichever way they like, the decision discusses at length the fact that ignoring aging people serving long sentences for violent crimes is what stands in the way of achieving the desired reduction. The order specifically mentions the criteria above (over the age of 60 with 25 years incarceration) and also makes reference to the need to speed up the Elderly Parole Program.

Because of the need to act rapidly to save lives, the decision becomes final in 15 days, and the Court refers the parties to the Marin Superior Court for future disputes.

litigation san quentin

Wonderful Review of Yesterday’s Monsters in the SF Chronicle

I’m very happy to share a great review of Yesterday’s Monsters written by Bob Egelko of the San Francisco Chronicle.

Review: ‘Yesterday’s Monsters’ shows parole system’s flaws in Manson cases

Bob Egelko September 30, 2020 Updated: September 30, 2020, 7:28 am

Susan Atkins, convicted of eight murders as a member of Charles Manson’s “family,” was dying of cancer when she made her 18th appearance before the California parole board in September 2009, after nearly 40 years in prison. Bedridden for 18 months and barely able to speak or move, she remained largely silent while her husband and attorney, James Whitehouse, asked the board to release her to a hospice, which he said he would pay for.

In response, relatives of Manson’s victims recalled the horrors of the 1969 killings. A Los Angeles prosecutor, Patrick Sequeira, called the family a “criminal terrorist organization” and said Atkins “has tried to minimize her involvement in the crime.” The board swiftly decided Atkins “poses an unreasonable risk if released” and denied parole for at least three more years. Atkins, 61, died of brain cancer 22 days later.

The incident is the most graphic but far from the only illustration of a malfunctioning system in “Yesterday’s Monsters: The Manson Family Cases and the Illusion of Parole” by Hadar Aviram, a professor at UC Hastings College of the Law in San Francisco who specializes in criminal law and civil rights.

The state Board of Parole Hearings shows “a clear preference for looking back and discussing the past (rather) than for the future, sometimes astonishingly ignoring terminal illness and old age when discussing future risk,” Aviram writes. And that, she notes, is the opposite of its assigned task of determining whether a prisoner who has served many years for past wrongdoing can now be safely released.

The book is a study, not an exposé — there are nearly 800 footnotes — but its language is everyday and accessible. Discussing inmates’ need to display “insight” into their crimes to be found suitable for parole, for example, Aviram writes, “the Board continuously moves the goal posts.” It’s aimed at two sets of readers, those who care about the workings of the criminal justice system and those with enduring memories of the Manson nightmare (this reviewer fits both categories).

Convicted mass murderer Charles Manson listens to the panel at his 1986 parole hearing in San Quentin prison.Photo: Eric Risberg, Associated Press 1986

It may not be fair to judge any criminal justice process by its response to extremes, and the Manson cases are about as extreme as they come. For reasons that remain unclear — some say Manson wanted to start a race war, others simply describe a cult obsessed with drugs, sex and violence — he ordered seven of his followers, including Atkins and two other young women, to kill nine people in three gruesome attacks in the Los Angeles area in July and August 1969. After the fatal stabbing of actress Sharon Tate, Atkins scrawled “PIG” in Tate’s blood on the front door of the home.

Manson, Atkins and three others were sentenced to death in 1971. But the state Supreme Court overturned California’s death penalty law in 1972, and all death sentences were reduced to life in prison with the possibility of parole; only under the subsequent law, passed by legislators in 1977 and expanded by the voters in 1978, were capital cases made punishable solely by death or life without parole.

Meanwhile, lawmakers and Gov. Jerry Brown, serving the first of his four terms in office, were remaking California’s sentencing and parole structure.

Discussing inmates’ need to display “insight” into their crimes to be found suitable for parole, for example, Hadar Aviram writes, “the Board continuously moves the goal posts.”Photo: Jana Asenbrennerova

Previously, nearly all crimes were punishable by a range of terms — 1 to 5 years, for example, or 5 to 20 — and a parole board that included psychologists and other professionals decided when a prisoner was fit for release. The system came under attack from both the left, as racially prejudiced, and the right, as unduly lenient, and was replaced in 1977 by “determinate” sentences for most crimes — two, four or six years, for example, with the sentencing judge making the choice.

Only “lifers,” those convicted of murder or a few other crimes, such as kidnapping, would now appear before the parole board, after a designated period, to seek their release. And board members were appointed by the governor, who generally chose law enforcement professionals skeptical of claims of rehabilitation.

The parole board’s occasional decisions to approve release were made subject to the governor’s veto by a 1988 initiative. A 2008 initiative called Marsy’s Law requires inmates who are denied parole to wait 15 years for their next hearing — five times the previous interval — unless the board finds “clear and convincing evidence” to justify an earlier hearing.

“Yesterday’s Monsters” focuses on a Board of Parole Hearings that is supposed to look forward, not backward. The state Supreme Court underscored that mission in a 2008 ruling that prohibited both the board and the governor from denying parole based solely on the gruesome nature of the crime — though, in a frequently cited exception, the court said the board could consider an inmate’s lack of “insight” into the offense.

Participants in the Manson family hearings, in transcripts quoted in the book, have focused largely on the past — understandably, in light of the events that gave rise to the hearings.

In 2013, Debra Tate speaks about her sister, actress Sharon Tate, who was killed by the Manson family, during a parole hearing for former Manson family member Leslie Van Houten at the California Institution for Women in Chino.Photo: Nick Ut, Associated Press 2013

At one hearing for Patricia Krenwinkel, Aviram says, prosecutor Sequeira declared, “I think if she had true remorse and she truly understood her crimes and the horrific nature of it, she wouldn’t be here at a parole hearing. She would just accept a punishment.”

Relatives of the victims were equally unforgiving.

“There are eight people that lie in their graves who remain unchanged, unrehabilitated, unparoled,” Anthony Demaria, a nephew of murder victim Jay Sebring, said at Krenwinkel’s 2011 hearing. “I beg the board to consider parole for Patricia Krenwinkel only when her victims are paroled from their graves.”

At another hearing, board members asked Krenwinkel why she wasn’t attending drug-treatment programs and shrugged off her explanation that her high-security custody barred her from the nighttime classes.

At a 1981 hearing, the board was unimpressed by ex-Mansonite Bruce Davis’ leadership position with a Christian counseling group in prison. One board member, Aviram notes, said Davis had merely switched his allegiance from “one god-like figure to another.”

When Manson follower Leslie Van Houten appeared before the board in 2013, Aviram says, she had a strong record of participation in prison rehabilitation programs, with a few minor violations, the last one in 1981. The board denied parole on the grounds that she lacked insight into her life before imprisonment: “You need to demonstrate what made you that person to engage in those acts so long ago.”

Three years later, with Van Houten’s record substantially the same, the board recommended her release but was overridden by Brown’s veto, events replicated under Gov. Gavin Newsom in 2019. Steve “Clem” Grogan, a relatively minor participant in the crimes, was paroled in 1985. Manson, denied parole at 12 hearings, died in prison in 2017 at age 83. His other co-defendants remain behind bars.

In 2013, Leslie Van Houten appears during her parole hearing, with her attorney, Michael Satris (left). Parole was denied.Photo: Nick Ut, Associated Press 2013

In one sense, the timing of the 1969 murders spared Manson and his cohorts from more severe punishment. Had they committed their crimes a decade later, some of the Family almost certainly would have been executed, and others would have had no opportunity for parole. And it seems safe to say that few Californians who remember the killings will shed tears at the prospect that Manson’s followers who are still in prison will probably die there.

But that doesn’t contradict the message that Aviram convincingly presents: If the parole system had worked as it was supposed to, based on the law and the policies underlying it, most of the participants in the murders, other than Manson himself, eventually would have been released.

The Board of Parole Hearings, the author concludes, “should not be the arbiter of moral goodness.”

I’d like to have seen a bit more context, comparing these parole decisions to others here and elsewhere, and perhaps some background on the parole board members, sometimes identified only by last names in the book. But as California rethinks the roles of imprisonment and parole in this COVID-19, post-Three Strikes era, “Yesterday’s Monsters” has some lessons for today.

“Yesterday’s Monsters: The Manson Family Cases and the Illusion of Parole”
By Hadar Aviram
(University of California Press; 294 pages; 29.95)

Bob Egelko Bob Egelko is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: begelko@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @BobEgelko

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It’s Not Over: Alarming Rise in New Cases in CDCR

To read CDCR’s response briefs in the Marin cases and in Von Staich, you could think that the pandemic is dwindling in prison. The opposite is true: the last two weeks have seen a spike in new COVID-19 cases in CDCR. The graph above is based on the daily CDCR data (Chad Goerzen and I code them daily.)

Here are a few other things we’ve learned:

Overall number of cases since the beginning of the pandemic stands now at 13,155 – nearly 14% of the total institution population, which as of Wednesday of last week was 95,886. This is a bit misleading, as some of the people who became infected have been released. But even with the higher population before the releases, this is a shocking percentage. By comparison, the rate of all-time infections for the entire state is 2009 per 100,000 people (approximately 2%). People in prison have been seven times as likely as people in the state to contract COVID.
COVID-19 is more lethal in prison than outside prison. Statewide, we’ve had 38 deaths per 100,000 people; in CDCR, more than twice that: 60 deaths for slightly less than 100,000 people. And this is before adjusting for age.
If you look only at the new spike in cases in the last 14 days, infection rates are even worse in prison. In CDCR facilities, it’s 17.6 per 1,000 people; in CA, it’s 1.3 per 1,000. For reference, at its peak, the CA infection rate was 3.3 per 1,000.
Generally speaking: My mentor and friend Malcolm Feeley made a shocking rough calculation. If we totaled up the population in archipelago of America’s prisons and considered them a country, both the number and rate of COVID-19 infections and deaths would place this “prison country” in the top twenty five percent of all countries in the world in terms of both absolute number of cases and deaths, and rate of deaths. By Malcolm’s rough count, this would put the “prison country” at around number 53 in over 200 countries.

We’ve also learned where the worst new outbreaks are:

FSP (Sacramento) – 585 new cases in 14 days
ASP (Kings) – 260 new cases in 14 days
CRC (Riverside) – 269 new cases in 14 days
CVSP (Riverside) – 182 new cases in 14 days
SATF (Kings) – 148 new cases in 14 days
VSP (Madera) – 77 new cases in 14 days

As you can see, this clusters mostly around Kings and Riverside Counties, which are, respectively, #2 and #14 in new cases per the L.A. Times counter (whether there’s a correlation, and what the timing is like, is a complicated question.) The biggest spike in new cases is in Imperial county; we should note that Riverside County prisons are located almost on the border with Imperial county.

This trend is more generalizable. Here’s a snapshot of our coded data, in order of outbreak seriousness in counties. You’ll see a correlation, to the tune of 0.588 (pretty good!) between outbreak in the county and an outbreak at a prison located either in the county or in a neighboring county near the county border.

As I’ve explained before, we’re not telling an airtight causal story here. All we are doing is dispelling the notion that locking people up is somehow keeping the surrounding county safe.

It’s September. No Sufficient Recourse from the State. Only Remedy is in Court.

Remember when, on July 10, Gov. Newsom announced the release of up to 8,000 people by late August? And remember when I said it was too little, too late, too reactive, and too obsequious to public opinion?

It’s now mid-September, and it’s time to see these releases. The picture of occupancy in California prisons as of yesterday’s count (the weekly count happens on Wednesday) is at the top of this page. If you wish to look at CDCR’s original data, from which I compiled the above, it’s right here.

We’ve seen an overall reduction to 96,827 total–here’s a great piece by the Chron’s Bob Egelko to give you some historical perspective on how we got there–but how that affects your prison experience or your exposure to COVID depends on where you are. More than half of the CDCR institutions are still in the red with above-capacity populations. Others are hovering at or neat 100%, which is a big improvement, but still very crowded and doesn’t do much for social distancing. And, for San Quentin and some other prisons, the reduction to 100% will not offset the basic architecture of the prison, which is dilapidated and lacks ventilation. Moreover, consider the bottleneck in county jails, and the extent to which transfers from jails might offset this population reduction.

State courts (and federal courts, though their hands are largely tied due to the limitations of the Prison Litigation Reform Act) must act to provide relief. As you see, there’s no safe destination.

Oral Argument in In re Von Staich

“There’s no need to act hastily.” –CDCR counsel Kathleen Walton
“Yes there is. Yes there is. There is a need to act hastily.” –Justice Kline, CA 1st District Court of Appeal
Oral Argument, In re Von Staich on Habeas Corpus, September 8, 2020

Today, the First District Court of Appeal heard oral argument in In re Von Staich, the San Quentin COVID-related habeas case. The hearing opened with a legal debate on whether CDCR, who disputes the declarations and reports made by physicians about the conditions at San Quentin, should have provided actual evidence to refute these reports. CDCR representative Kathleen Walton argued that the habeas rules did not require her to provide these facts, and pressed the court for an evidentiary hearing; Brad O’Connell, for the petitioner, argued that CDCR made no attempt to plead the facts or meet them at all. Justice Kline characterized the prison’s response as “conclusionary statements, not facts”, and rejected CDCR’s argument that the issues they briefed on (whether CDCR provided adequate cleaning, sanitizing, masks, continuation of of holding petitioner Von Staich with other inmates, whether COVID is still spreading at the prison, etc.), were the focus of the case. “What we believe this case is about”, said Justice Kline, “is whether there is persuasive evidence that the court must do what the Plata court cannot do, which is to reduce population of San Quentin to a level that can permit the administration of social distancing within that prison.”

After confirming that CDCR can, indeed, release people serving life with parole, and discussing the legal mechanisms to do so (including the Governor’s emergency authority to release), much of the discussion consisted of CDCR peddling various falsehoods and the Justices not having it. At some point, Ms. Walton intimated that they estimate that some of their vigorous efforts to contain COVID in prison were hindered (they don’t know to what extent) by “inmates refusing to cooperate”, including testing and reporting symptoms. Justice Kline countered with the possibility that people were disincentivized from cooperating because the prison relied on spaces with a punitive connotation (solitary confinement cells) for the purpose of medical isolation (a problem pointed out in the AMEND report and in our Amicus brief.) This struck me as a problem that correctional health professionals should have perhaps taken into account *back in March* when they were repeatedly warned of outbreaks in prison. Fancy that, prison health officials having to consider the possibility that people might try to avoid being transferred to solitary!

Discussion then turned to release policies, with Justice Kline extensively mentioning our brief, which highlighted the most obvious demographic for successful releases: aging people doing long stints for violent crime. The AG representative responded that the petitioner in this particular case was judged to be “moderate risk.”

The next topic on the table was, again, the argument that the court was an inappropriate forum, and somehow “duplicative” of the Plata litigation. Justice Kline explained: “You keep making arguments that assume we have the same interests as the federal court. We are not being asked to evaluate the quality of care and attention to covid they are providing. [The federal courts] are looking into that.” To top the outrage, the CDCR representative tried to spin Judge Tigar’s Plata stance as “he didn’t find an Eighth Amendment violation.” Justice Kline wasn’t having any of it and responded that it is a matter of public knowledge that Judge Tigar *urged* state courts to do something because the PLRA stopped him from acting. In short, said Justice Kline, the COVID crisis at Quentin is a state prboelm, happening at a state department of corrections, which is the duty of state courts to address–in particular at Quentin, which is unique in being the system’s oldest and most dilapidated prison.

Justice Stewart then challenged the CDCR representative, quoting our argument in our Amicus brief that they have basically arrived at each of the three courts handling these lawsuits and argued it was not the appropriate forum. The CDCR representative, in turn, tried to harmonize their position by creating a hierarchy of sorts between the different litigation efforts.

Even though this was, overall, a good day for the petitioner, the court did press petitioner’s representatives on the appropriate remedy. Issuing an order to release 50% of the prisoners, said Justice Kline, is “something I’m not sure I’m willing to do. . . not confident that my court has the ability.” Indeed, the role of the appellate court might be limited to assessing whether the current conditions at Quentin allow the social distancing necessary to stop the spread in that facility, and to put in some guidelines about particular issues that would apply across the board. Justice Kline also commented that the lawsuit has already resulted in a benefit to Von Staich himself; he’s been isolated and no longer as exposed to COVID as he previously was. In light of these issues, the question to petitioner’s attorneys was, “What would you have us say?” The response from Richard Braucher (for the petitioner) was that the only ways to reduce the population at Quentin were via release or via transfer.

Which is where the argument for petitioner touched on some real talk. The elephant in the room, of course, is the rise in cases at other institutions not at stake in this lawsuit. Petitioner’s representative specifically mentioned the situation at Avenal, which has become dire in the last few days, and is currently the worst COVID Petri dish in the state. Here’s the picture there:

We’ve been tracking the CDCR prisons as well as CA counties for months now, and I should probably say that I’m not at all sure whether this is a third outbreak or the continuation of the second one; testing has been sporadic and erratic and basically reflects Trump’s philosophy of “no testing –> no cases.” Nonetheless, it indicates active disease, and it’s not the only place with hundreds of cases. Folsom is doing abysmally as well:

The Court, however, expressed the need to restrain the extent of their inteference with prison business via a direct release order. They pressed petitioner’s representatives on this point, and I think I would have argued that CDCR *needs* help and guidance from the courts because it had *ample* opportunity to do the decent thing and didn’t do so. Even the current CDCR plan is dated, inadequate, targets the wrong people, and we now hear will take the better part of a year to implement, which will come woefully late for the folks who will get sick or even die in the interim. That launched a discussion of how petitioner’s counsel would craft the priority of releases, to which they replied that the two lynchpins of the policy should be age and medical condition.

This opened the door to some breathtakingly cynical takes from the CDCR representative, the gist of which was that there was “no need to act hastily”–presumably because the urgent call to release 50% of the people in prison happened before the reductions in population and because now, after so much damage has already been done, they’re implementing some new program for sanitation and PPE equipment. Basing an argument that no remedy should be offered on the fact that the harm’s already been done was pretty much what I expected them to argue; CDCR has maintained that they are winning the fight against the virus, when in fact the virus has already won and continues to win, again and again, in prisons where COVID was thought to have abated. Justice Kline responded from the heart: “Yes there is. Yes there is. There is a need to act hastily.” People have gotten sick and died, he said, and we must ensure that no more of this happens. We now wait to hear what the Court will decide.

Brief on Behalf of Amici Curiae Filed in Von Staich, and an Extra Helping of Cruelty

Today I submitted an Amicus Curiae brief on behalf of the ACLU of Northern California and eighteen criminal justice scholars in In re Von Staich, another San Quentin-related COVID-19 relief case pending before the Court of Appeal. You can find the brief here:

AmiciCuriaeBriefVonStaich.pdf by hadaraviram on Scribd

Part of what I discuss in the brief has to do with CDCR’s evasive maneuvers. There are now three COVID-19 prison cases pending before the courts: Plata v. Newsom in federal court, the Marin County consolidated cases, and Von Staich. In each of these cases, the Attorney General representatives are claiming that the court is not the appropriate forum for handling the matter. Not only does this argument lack legal merit–judicial review is part and parcel of the struggle in prison conditions cases, and people are expected to exhaust state remedies before going federal–it is also a cynical evasive maneuver, designed to put off resolution in these cases until people either get well on their own or die. Indeed, at a status conference I attended last week, the AG representative led with the argument that there’s no longer a problem at San Quentin because the rates of new cases are slowing down. I cannot emphasize enough how misguided this line of argument is. San Quentin is not winning the battle against COVID-19. The virus has won–it’s infected almost all the available hosts, two thirds of the prison population, and killed 26 people–and will win again if there’s a repeat outbreak and no measures are taken to prevent it, as it has in five other prisons so far: Avenal, CIW, Corcoran, LAC, and ISP.

It may be that I’m feeling especially livid about this having read Jason Fagone’s story in yesterday’s Chron, according to which grieving relatives of incarcerated people who die of COVID get, in addition to their grief and anger, a cremation bill for $900:

Since the start of the pandemic, 54 incarcerated people have died of COVID-19 in California’s 35 prisons, and even though the deceased were in state custody until they drew their last breaths, the state expects their loved ones to pay burial costs, which can run into the thousands of dollars.
Families and advocates for incarcerated people say the policy is not only cruel, it discriminates against those without means to pay the sudden expenses. And with death numbers rising in the state prisons, the issue isn’t likely to go away.
“It’s a pretty disgusting policy,” said attorney Michael Bien, who represents tens of thousands of California prisoners and knows families struggling to scrape up money to bury incarcerated loved ones felled by the virus. He said the state has a moral duty to pay for a basic burial or cremation of people who die in their custody.
“This is basic human decency here,” Bien said, emphasizing that the financial burden is falling not on those convicted of crimes but on their “children and wives and moms.”

I wonder if CDCR also charges the families for the burial of incarcerated firefighters who are risking their lives to save my life and yours as I type this.

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