Rural jail boom surges back into the news

Two Bridges Regional Jail, near Wiscasset, Maine, May, 2019 (c) Lisa R. Pruitt

I've written previously about the nation's rural jail boom here and here (including many embedded links about the decade-long jail saga in my hometown, about which I write more at the end of this post).  Over the past few days, the issue has seen renewed interest from various quarters, including a NY Times feature, a USA Today op-ed, a local news report by WyoFile (a non profit reporting out of Wyoming), an op-ed by Vera Institute of Justice researchers, published in The Guardian, and another op-ed out of a small Kentucky city.  This surge in coverage of the rural jail boom appears to be primarily attributable to the release yesterday by the Vera Institute of Justice, of a new report on the increase in rural jail populations.  The data headlines from that report (as summarized by the New York Times):  Since 2013, jail populations in urban areas dropped 18%, but rural jail populations climbed 27% during that same period.

Two Bridges Regional Jail serves Lincoln and Sagadahoc counties in Maine's mid-coast region.

Let's begin with the most prominent piece among this cluster of stories and op-eds, the feature from the New York Times today, dateline Morristown, Tennessee, population 29,137.  Its headline is certainly provocative, "'A Cesspool of a Dungeon':  The Surging Population of Rural Jails."  The story links what is happening in east Tennessee to meth and opioid use in the region:

Like a lot of Appalachia, Morristown, Tenn., about an hour east of Knoxville, has been devastated by methamphetamine and opioid use. Residents who commit crimes to support their addiction pack the 255-bed jail, which had 439 inmates at the end of October, according to the latest state data.

The story quotes Jacob Kang-Brown, senior research associate for the Vera Institute and lead author of the new report, contrasting rural and urban:

In the big city, you get a ticket and a trip to the clinic.  But in a smaller area, you might get three months in jail.

According to the new Vera report, rural jails house a total of 184,000 inmates, while urban jails now hold 167,000.  More notable, perhaps, is that rural jails are now locking people up at a rate more than double that of urban areas.  Suburban jail populations have remained more stable, while small and mid-size cities have seen a 7% increase.  Also, the number of female inmates has risen sharply.  This story also references Tennessee's own jail summary report, dated October 2019. 

Morristown is the county seat of Hamblen County, population 62,544, in East Tennessee.  It is the topic of some earlier posts here and here.

The USA Today op-ed is by Professor Pamela Metzger of SMU's Dedman School of Law, and its dateline is Wood County, Wisconsin, from which Metzger highlights the suicide of 18-year-old Trequelle Vann-Marcouex, accused of robbery.  He repeatedly asked the judge for a lawyer, but after 11 days he still hadn't gotten one.  That's when he hanged himself in his cell.  Being a nonmetro county (population 74,749) probably influenced why the young man didn't get a lawyer in a timely fashion because there's an attorney shortage in many rural areas of the United States.   Here's an excerpt from the op-ed:

If Vann-Marcouex had been arrested in a big city — like Milwaukee or Chicago — things may have played out differently. Instead, Vann-Marcouex fell victim to our national criminal justice blind spot: rural communities where people can wait days, weeks or months for basic services — initial court appearances, attorneys — that city dwellers take for granted. 

And the problem isn’t just with defense attorneys. It pervades every aspect of rural justice systems.

I'm surprised that neither of these stories addresses the rural lawyer shortage in much detail, though Metzger's op-ed mentions it in passing as a key factor explaining the rural jail incarceration trends.  That is, one reason people are held in jails is because they have no lawyer to appear with them, before a judge, to negotiate their release.  I have written extensively about the rural lawyer shortage here, here, and here.

Another factor fueling the rural jail boom is the use of jails to house detained immigrants, and that's what's driving the next story, which is out of Wyoming.  The WyoFile piece, headlined "Evanston meets its would-be economic savior, CoreCivic," also references the economic realities behind rural jail growth:  local governments' need for revenue.  CoreCivic is proposing to build a massive jail in Uinta County, Wyoming, in the western part of the state, south of Grand Teton/Jackson Hole.  Evanston, population 12,359, is the Uinta County seat.  Here's the story's lede:

Wyoming’s first private jail could resemble a warehouse or big box store, according to drawings corporate giant CoreCivic presented at a charged public meeting in Uinta County last week.

If built, it will have nearly 150,000 square feet of housing to hold up to 1,000 immigrants detained by U.S. Immigrations and Customs Enforcement from Nevada, Utah, Idaho and Montana. There will be a 2,500-square-foot chapel, a 2,300-square-foot library and a 3,500-square-foot courthouse where federal immigration judges will determine who may stay in the U.S. and who will be deported.

Two 16-foot-high fences topped with razor wire will surround the facility.
The presentation to a room of more than 200 local residents came as the jail proposal appears to be picking up steam after a long lull. CoreCivic has submitted an environmental assessment to the Department of Homeland Security, officials said at the meeting, and is waiting now for the green light to submit a project proposal.

This jail would presumably also serve as a typical county jail, housing local inmates and not only those being held on behalf of the federal government. 

The Danville, Kentucky paper's editorial is titled "Rural Communities can Tackle Kentucky's Incarceration Epidemic" and it is based on and links to a Vera Institute Policy Brief that shows Kentucky first (worst!) among seven states in the region when it comes to incarceration rates.  Here's an excerpt:

Who are we locking up? More and more, it’s people who haven’t been convicted of a crime. While the the population in Kentucky’s prisons (where sentenced individuals serve their time) has risen by 168% since 1983, it’s actually remained fairly flat more recently—it’s up by just 13% since 2000, according to the report. 

Where Kentucky is seeing the lion’s share of increases is in county jails, where many inmates are being held pre-trial, meaning they have been charged but not convicted of a crime. Of the approximately 21,000 population of jails in 2015, around 9,100 (about 43%) of inmates were being held pre-trial. That represents a huge chunk of jail population growth since 1970 and amounts to almost three-fourths of the state’s entire prison population of 12,437, according to the report. 

Kentucky is disproportionately locking up black individuals, and the increase in the number of women incarcerated is truly staggering.

Danville is in central Kentucky, and its population is 16,128.

The Guardian op-ed is authored by two Vera Institute researchers, Jasmine Heiss and Jack Norton.  The headline is "The hidden scandal of US criminal justice?  Rural incarceration has boomed."
An excerpt that puts the rural jail boom in economic context follows:

Rising incarceration rates must be understood in the context of declining industry, and dwindling state dollars sent to counties. Take Monroe county, Ohio, which recently invested $15.1m in a new jail. Monroe county has one of the highest unemployment rates in Ohio and has suffered the closure of two major aluminum plants. Meanwhile state aid to localities declined nearly 20% in Ohio between 2008 and 2016. In Monroe county and across the country, decades of disinvestment have created a vacuum that jails now fill. 

In many communities, the only institutions that have seen increased or sustained investment are the local police force and the county jail.

Finally, I note that my own hometown paper, the Newton County Times, also has a story about its jail in the latest, December 11 issue.  The headline is "Future of old jail questioned."  Here's the lede:

The over century-old Newton county Jail sits just off the Jasper square.  It was closed in 2009 and the new jail was opened next door in 2012.  It was used briefly as a community food pantry, but now it sits unused and is falling into disrepair.  May Jan Larson approached the quorum court Monday night, December 2, and inquired about the historic building's future. 

A lot of people think the jail is owned by the city, Larson said, but it continues to be under county ownership.  There are some glass panes missing from some windows and there are reports of mold on the inside.  She said the city is working on a long range economic development study and the town's historic business district is an important asset.  Except for the jail which if allowed to decline could become a liability for both the city and county.   

The problem is that neither the city nor the county has the money to operate and maintain the building. 

Newton County Jail, Jasper Arkansas, October 2019 (c) Lisa R. Pruitt 

Meanwhile, under another front-page headline, "JPs accept sheriff's budget," the paper reports a 2020 sheriff's budget of $776,765.50, of which $615,265 is for "personal services," and $92,400 is for supplies.  The remainder, $69,100, is for "other services."  Nothing explains what "personal services" and "other services" are, but the story does list the compensation amounts for sheriff's deputies and jailers.  The beginning salary for a sheriff's deputy is $23,400, and the starting salary for a full-time jailer is $20,800.  The sheriff's office and jail employ a total of 29 people.

I have written extensively about the Newton County jail, particularly during the years when the century-old county jail was condemned and county leaders were seeking funding to build a new one.  You can find those posts collected here.  Interestingly, Vera data show that incarceration in my county has held roughly even between 2005 and 2015.  I guess that was inevitable because the new jail's capacity is hardly bigger than the one it replaced.  Older photos of the "new" jail, pictured above in 2019, when it was someone's home and as it evolved to look like it does now, are here and here.  The latter post also includes a photo of the old, condemned jail, after it was closed and while in use as a community food bank.