Support The Guardian Search jobs Sign in Search US edition

Available for everyone, funded by readers

Contribute Subscribe

News Opinion Sport Culture Lifestyle More

US World Environment Soccer US Politics Business Tech Science

Louisiana The end of American prison visits:

jails end face9to9face contact : and
families suffer
Shannon Sims in New Orleans
@shannongsims
Sat 9 Dec 2017 08.17 EST

81,566

293

Tiffany Burns tries to talk to her boyfriend Chrishon Brown, who is locked up in Jefferson Parish jail. Photograph:
Ben Depp

It’s been described as ‘Skype for the jailed’ and is being sold as
safer and more convenient. But it begs the question: are in@
person visits a human right?
One sunny day in October, at the Jefferson Parish correctional center just
across the river from downtown New Orleans, Tiffany Burns, 34, was visiting
her boyfriend.

The pair had been dating for almost two years and were still giggly in love
when a late July knock on the door sent him away. Scooped up by the police
after being accused of robbing a suburban bank at gunpoint, Chrishon
Brown, 37, was sent to the correctional center while his case worked its way
through the court.
most viewed in US
A new, unwelcome chapter of their relationship began, with Brown using all Furious Tory MPs tell May:
his jail funds to call Tiffany, and Tiffany visiting as often as she could. we’ll block snap Brexit
election
It was a long drive from her home in the Metairie suburb west of New
Orleans, and could sometimes take about an hour each way with the traffic 'The Leggings problem': can
near downtown, but Burns was happy to do it. “When I visit, sometimes I we just never hear about
forget about the glass and it feels like we are together again.” them again?
Arwa Mahdawi
She felt that way during her visit on 12 October, right up until the moment
she walked out the jail door and was handed a pamphlet. Police release bodyCcam
video of Willie McCoy killing,
“Visit an inmate from anywhere!” exclaimed the heading. A photo of a showing him asleep in car
smiling blond woman using a tablet with her daughter was featured on the
next page. Trump Fed pick was held in
contempt for failing to pay exC
“From now on, no more visits,” said the jail guard, as she shut the door wife over $300,000
behind Tiffany. “If you want to see him, read that.”
Diana Rigg: ‘Becoming a sex
“I didn’t realize that would be my last visit,” Tiffany later said. symbol overnight shocked
me’
$12.99 per call. In9person visits used to be free

Tiffany Burns waits for her boyfriend

Chrishon Brown to call from prison.
Photograph: Ben Depp Under the new system, in-person visits are no longer allowed. Instead, all
visits now must be done by video, either from a smartphone, computer, or at
an offsite location.

The pamphlet, published by Securus Technology, makes using a video feed

to talk to your loved one seem appealing. It says:

“Do you want to see your loved one more often? Stop missing out on:
Watching your favorite TV show.
Singing Happy Birthday.
Reading a bedtime story ... Never miss another moment.”

Under the new system, each video visit made from home costs $12.99 for 20
minutes. In-person visits used to be free.

This shift also raises a legal question:

is in-person visitation an inmate’s
legal right?

Video technology run by Securus

and other companies is now used in
hundreds of correctional facilities
across the country.

Although data is hard to come by,

Lucius Couloute, a research associate
at the Prison Policy Initiative, might
have the best guess. By scraping
information from news articles, social media, and Google alerts, he estimates
at least 600 US facilities now have video visitation programs in place.
(Securus did not respond to repeated requests for that information.)

Gary York, a retired Florida prison inspector who writes about video
visitation, says his experience supports those findings. He says that over the
past five years, most jails in his state have turned to using only video
visitation and stopped in-person visitation.

Indeed, according to the Prison Policy Initiative’s data, 74% of US

correctional facilities that implement video calling end up either reducing in-
person visits, or eliminating them altogether.

The brochure for the new video call

system. Jefferson Parish jail has just
stopped in person visits. Photograph: But why halt in-person visitation?
Ben Depp/Ben Depp for The Guardian

Security concerns, say the program’s supporters. They point to the

conveniences of video, a kind of Skype for the jailed, as a way to combat a
nagging security issue: contraband. York says that contraband – drugs,
weapons, and more – can be introduced even in no-contact facilities where
inmates are separated from visitors by glass. “I’m not going sugarcoat it and
say it’s only the visitors that do it,” says York. “Inmate orderlies and officers
might be picking up a bag of marijuana that a visitor leaves in the trashcan
and getting paid off to deliver it to the inmate. I’ve seen it hundreds of
times.”

Another reason is the reallocation of jail personnel. Jefferson Parish Sheriff

Joe LoPinto was quoted in a Times-Picayune article as arguing that the new
system allows his office to “allocate resources where we think they’re
needed, on the streets”. In-person visitation, he said, requires twice as many
officers, and York agrees. (LoPinto declined to comment for this story).

Critics, however, say that potential gains are far outweighed by the costs.

‘The impact is going to be so real’

Norris Henderson spent nearly 28 years in prison for murder in Louisiana.
Today, he is the founder and executive director of Voice of the Ex-Offender, a
not-for-profit group that advocates for inmates’ rights. He strongly believes
that stopping in-person visitations is a move in the wrong direction.

“We should be moving toward more human contact and people connecting
with other people, not less. When you move away from that,” warns
Henderson, “it is easy to dehumanize.”

Léon Digard, from the Vera Institute of Justice, says that his research shows
the opposite happening, with “in-person visits increasing outcomes both
pre- and post-release”. Couloute additionally points to research published in
the Criminal Justice Policy Review that show that in-person visits decrease
recidivism.

Instead, both Digard and Couloute recommend this technology be used only
as a supplement to traditional methods of visitation.

Behind the security issue lies an even more profound challenge: the
emotional and psychological cost of taking away in-person visits. Advocates
argue that seeing a person face-to-face, even if it’s through six inches of
glass, is critical to the emotional health of prisoners.

Sister Alison McCrary is an attorney and executive director for the National
Police Accountability Project. She runs the New Orleans Community-Police
Mediation Program. She regularly spends her weekends offering spiritual
guidance to those who have been incarcerated, particularly those on death
row.

“Visitation is so important to maintaining a prisoner’s faith. So important. I

can’t believe they would simply take that away,” she says, in a saddened
voice. “The impact is going to be so real.”

Are visitations a human right?

Ultimately, the substitution of video visitation for in-
person visits raises a legal question that applies to
correctional facilities everywhere: is it a human right to
receive in-person visitation?

Internationally, multiple legal instruments indicate that

it is. UN rules call for the allowance of visitors, while the
European Prison Rules emphasize that while all forms of
visitation may be monitored, maximum contact is the
underlying goal: “Prisoners shall be allowed to
communicate as often as possible by letter, telephone or
other forms of communication with their families, other
persons and representatives of outside organisations and
to receive visits from these persons.”

Those rules, however, are legally non-binding for US

purposes. In 2003, the US supreme court unanimously
decided that visitation restrictions with a “rational
relation” to prison management do not violate the
constitutional right of association.

Michele Deitch, a scholar on prisons at the University of

Texas, notes that across the country, some state and local
governments have adopted legislation that addresses the
Users pay almost $13 for a 20 minute
video call. Photograph: Ben Depp question of the legality of video visitation in lieu of in-
person visitation.

We should be In Texas, for example, a recent state law requires that in-person
moving toward more visitation be maintained in jails, and California has passed
human contact and similar legislation. Although the American Bar Association and
people connecting the American Correctional Association have published
with other people, guidelines that say video visitation should be a supplement
not less and not a substitute for in-person visits, the supreme court has
Norris Henderson, not yet weighed in on the video visitation question. Without a
inmates’ rights national legal framework, the decision belongs to local
advocate authorities, with their own rationale, be it contraband,
security, or something else.

For Henderson, the former prisoner, the conversation “goes

deeper than this issue of contraband. This is about money. I shouldn’t have
to pay you to come see my child.”

The prison phone system is a $1.2bn-a-year industry, dominated by big

players like Securus. Securus has stated that it serves over 1.2 million
prisoners across North America, and the company employs at least 736
people, according to its Bloomberg listing.

Private companies point to their services as a potential new source of

revenue for overburdened counties, with the facility receiving commissions
per call. Although neither Securus nor the Jefferson Parish sheriff’s office
would provide a breakdown of where the $12.99 per 20 minutes goes,
Coulette says that “typically they receive only a 10 to 20% commission on the
call”.

‘Companies shouldn’t be getting rich off inmates’ backs’

Almost everyone who has studied video visitation also mentions one other
thing: video visitation is glitchy.

Often, in spite of the price, the technology doesn’t work; the sound or the
image doesn’t come through, or the calls cut off in the middle. The glitches
can make that $12.99 price tag seem even higher.

The counterargument to this criticism is the fact that in Jefferson Parish, for
example, one 20-minute video call at an “offsite video visitation center” is
free per week.

To find out more, I took that drive over the bridge across the Mississippi to
Gretna, where the Jefferson Parish jail is located. Inside, the Securus logo is
prominently displayed on posters. The guards tell me they think the new
system will be an improvement – “it’s better because you can do a video visit
from home now” – but since it is so new, they can’t say for sure.

They suggest I check out the new “Video Visitation Center”, located about a
10 minute drive down the freeway. For those without access to a smartphone
or a computer, the new visitation center is their only option.

There, an old elementary school building has been converted into the center.
Inside, three guards are gathered and laughing around a cellphone behind a
glass wall, but outside the parking lot is empty. No one is visiting.

I stop by the Jefferson Parish public defenders office. Attorney Andrew Duffy,
a public defender in Jefferson Parish, already has some concerns. I hand him
the flyer and he types in the Securus video visitation web address. As the
page pulls up, he rears back his head and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, see look
at this,” he says, gesturing to a page busy with menus and small-font options.
“Grandma’s gone.”

He sees the introduction of technology not as a guaranteed convenience, but

as a potential barrier. On top of the 20-minute price tag, the video calls
require an updated tablet, computer or smartphone.

‘I couldn’t even hear what she was saying’

Tiffany Burns tries to talk to her

boyfriend. Their first attempt with the
new system was not successful. To understand the impact that all this is having on the loved ones of inmates,
Photograph: Ben Depp for The Guardian
I drove out to Metairie, to the home of Tiffany Burns.

Two weeks after her last in-person visit, Burns sits on her bed in her
mother’s apartment.

Inside, Burns’s mother has set the table for Thanksgiving dinner, decorating
it with orange and yellow crepe fall leaves. It’s a much friendlier
environment than the one at the jail or the video visitation center.

In the bedroom, Burns is sitting crosslegged on the bed, nervously fussing

with the cheap earphones she just rushed out to buy.

“OK, so he is supposed to call in eight minutes I guess,” she says, staring at

her phone, which blinks 6.52pm.

This is her third attempt to video chat with Brown. The first time, she did not
know she needed to schedule the call far ahead of time, and the second time,
all the slots were filled for the days she was off work. Now, with her slot
scheduled and her earphones in, she’s wondering if it will all work out.

Finally, she sees a call coming through.

Her face lights up and then slowly fades as she realizes Brown can’t hear her.
She fiddles with her headphones, waves, tries gesturing to him, but
ultimately, he never can hear her voice. The two end up simply giggling at
the screen image of each other for the remainder of the time.

Later, I speak with Brown by phone and he explains that he believes he was
only the third inmate to try to use the video program at the Jefferson Parish
jail, and that the other two also said it didn’t work properly.

“We had to pay money for something that didn’t work,” he complains. “I
couldn’t even hear what she was saying, and I couldn’t really see her.”

Brown is particularly upset that the in-person visitations are being halted.
“How you gonna stop people’s families from coming to see them? That’s
messed up. I thought that was a privilege we got here.”

Since you’re here…

… we have a small favour to ask. More people are reading and supporting
our independent, investigative reporting than ever before. And unlike many
news organisations, we have chosen an approach that allows us to keep our
journalism accessible to all, regardless of where they live or what they can
afford.
The Guardian is editorially independent, meaning we set our own agenda.
Our journalism is free from commercial bias and not influenced by
billionaire owners, politicians or shareholders. No one edits our editor. No
one steers our opinion. This is important as it enables us to give a voice to
those less heard, challenge the powerful and hold them to account. It’s
what makes us different to so many others in the media, at a time when
factual, honest reporting is critical.
Every contribution we receive from readers like you, big or small, goes
directly into funding our journalism. This support enables us to keep
working as we do – but we must maintain and build on it for every year to
come. Support The Guardian from as little as $1 – and it only takes a
minute. Thank you.

Support The Guardian

Topics
Louisiana
New Orleans / US prisons / Human rights / features

Reuse this content

comments Q293S Order by Oldest Threads Collapsed 1 2 3 4 5

Sign in or create your
Guardian account to join the Briano1 9 Dec 2017 3:26
discussion. This comment was removed by a moderator because it didn't abide by our community standards. Replies
may also be deleted. For more detail see our FAQs.

UnevenSurface 9 Dec 2017 3:38 198

The commercialisation of the US prison system is one of the greatest losses of human
rights that country has ever seen. It's no surprise that "The United States has the highest
prison population (2,220,300 in 2013). It has the second highest documented
incarceration rate in the world (698 per 100,000 population in 2013), behind the tiny
country, Seychelles, which has the highest rate (899 per 100,000 in 2014). While the
United States represents about 4.4 percent of the world's population, it houses around 22
percent of the world's prisoners."

That's what happens when prisons are run for profit.

Share Report

blueterrace UnevenSurface 9 Dec 2017 4:09 66

A troubled country with violence running though it's veins.

Share Report

UnevenSurface blueterrace 9 Dec 2017 4:45 115

A huge proportion of those prisoners are actually non-violent. But because of

lobbying by those making money from incarceration, non-violent crimes that
previously led to short (or no) custodial sentences now result in long-term
imprisonment.

Share Report

Show 4 more replies

View more comments

Most popular
US World Environment Soccer US Politics Business Tech Science

Sign up to our daily email About us All topics Advertise with us

Support
Email address Sign up
Contact us All writers Guardian Labs
The Guardian
Complaints & Digital newspaper Search jobs Available for everyone, funded by readers
corrections archive
Dating Contribute Subscribe
SecureDrop Facebook
Discount Codes
Work for us Twitter
Privacy policy
Cookie policy
Terms & conditions
Help

Back to top
© 2019 Guardian News & Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved.