American Prison: A Reporter’s Undercover Journey into the Business of Punishment

One day, Bauer discovers Derik has been locked up, but he can’t get a specific explanation. Also, an inmate named “Corner Store” is due to be released soon. He discusses his plans with Bauer which include spending time with his mother and letting go of the hard-edged façade he’s been forced to wear for over 20 years in prison. Now with enough tenure to train cadets himself, Bauer encounters the sadistic eagerness he once saw among cadets in his own training cohort, the attitude that prison is too soft and comfortable, and that discipline is the only appropriate response. He then recounts a litany of stabbings, beatings, and malfunctioning cell doors that continue to plague Winn. Bauer also notes that rates of violence in private prisons are consistently higher than in state-run facilities. The number of stabbings at Winn is more than double the number Winn reports to the Department of Corrections. By February 2016, the violence has gotten so bad, Winn goes on permanent lockdown.

When a public jail warden visits Winn, he immediately suggests changes, including more staff, higher pay, and financial incentives for additional training. When SORT officers occupy Ash unit, they empty the tier and tear apart the beds and lockers, confiscating hidden merchandise. Inmates complain, and a SORT officer threatens force and tells them to “go through the proper channels” (254). Meanwhile, as per Louisiana law, Corner Store cannot be released unless he has a permanent address on the outside. It seems to him a strategy to keep people locked up longer and generate additional profit. Bauer grows suspicious of Corner Store, fearing his friendliness is a ploy, so he distances himself from the inmate. As the lockdown drags on, the canteen has been closed for weeks, agitating the inmates, and threatening to make the situation even more explosive. Inmates openly talk of a riot.

Bauer’s paranoia grows. He becomes stern and unbending, assuming every small transgression is either a manipulation tactic or a personal attack. During his employee evaluation, the captain praises his “take-charge attitude” (259) and recommends him for promotion. Eventually, the lockdown ends, although the SORT officers still patrol the tiers. One day, wardens from public prisons across the state arrive. They single out certain inmates to be transferred to other prisons, including an orderly Bauer had always trusted. He fears that his identity will be discovered, and he destroys some of his notes. He and an Angola officer discuss the various ways inmates try to manipulate the system, mostly by filing false complaints against COs. Bauer notices that everything runs smoothly when the DOC officers are present, but as soon as they leave, the inmates warn that things will revert back to the usual disorder. While filling out an incident report over some confiscated drugs, Bauer witnesses two managers secretly divvying up a stash of tobacco taken from an inmate.

Not for the first time, Bauer reflects on how the job is changing him. It’s making him aggressive, uncaring, and aching for the adrenaline rush of action. He writes, “Inside me there is a prison guard and former prisoner and they are fighting with each other, and I want them to stop” (266). After four months, Bauer decides to quit. The following morning, a jubilant Parker tells the staff that they are going to “bring the gates of hell down on that place” (267) and start enforcing regulations down to the letter. Later, Kenny offers Bauer a promotion. With the possibility of better access, Bauer considers it, and days pass without him resigning despite tensions with his wife.

One evening, Bauer discovers that James West, a photographer from Mother Jones, has been arrested for taking pictures of Winn and the surrounding area. Deputies confiscate his camera equipment, and Bauer, fearing his cover will be blown, gathers his things and checks into a hotel. Meanwhile, West is strip-searched, interrogated, and locked up. The next morning, after posting bail, Bauer, his wife Sarah, and West load everything into Bauer’s truck and cross the border into Texas. He calls Winn and resigns.

After he resigns, word spreads about Bauer’s identity. Winn objects to the deception, but several guards, including Bacle, praise him. While some employees refuse to talk, many cooperate willingly and are eager to read the story. CCA launches an internal investigation into Bauer and requires new employees to undergo more rigorous background checks. Someone sends a screenshot to Assistant Warden Parker from a video in which Bauer reveals his identity. The sheriff claims he was “not aware” of deputies searching West’s camera equipment, something for which they would need a search warrant. About two weeks after Bauer’s resignation, the DOC cancels CCA’s contract, citing a host of violations. LaSalle Corrections takes over Winn’s contract, but soon after, Louisiana cuts its prison budget resulting in even deeper cuts at Winn, including medical services and educational programs. Some staff are rehired by LaSalle, but many move on to other jobs.

Five months later, CCA threatens to sue Mother Jones if they publish Bauer’s reporting, citing the company’s code of conduct policy. They also hire a public relations firm with a reputation for helping companies minimize damage from investigative journalism. They circulate a memo to other reporters questioning Bauer’s motives and methods.

Bauer follows up on Corner Store who languished in prison for a year after being eligible for parole. Now living with his father, Bauer and Corner Store drive out to the Mississippi River, a sight he hasn’t seen since he was a boy. A year later, he is arrested for “offering to perform sex on a ten-year-old girl” (280).

After his article is published, many former and current CCA employees contact him. One in particular, a former in-house investigator, discusses her years of helping CCA cover up its abuses. Bauer’s article, she says, is helping her to cope with her guilt. A representative of the Department of Justice seeks to interview Bauer as his reporting dovetails with the DOJ’s current mission to investigate and evaluate the private prison system. A week after Bauer’s interview, the DOJ cancels its federal contracts with all private prison companies. CCA’s stock drops substantially, and the company is forced to lay off 50 full-time corporate employees.

Two years after leaving Winn, Bauer attends a shareholder’s meeting in Nashville. In the parking lot, he encounters an elderly T. Don Hutto and introduces himself, but Hutto doesn’t recognize him. Shareholder spirits are high. Since Donald Trump’s election, CCA stock has risen 50 percent, as some speculate that Trump’s tough stance on immigration will spur the construction of more detention centers. Bauer writes that “during the last decade, the portion of immigrant detention beds contracted out to private prison companies has gone up from 25 percent to 65 percent” (285).

A partial list of CCA board members includes Thurgood Marshall, Jr., son of the late civil rights attorney and Supreme Court Justice on retainer for the sake of “diversity”; and Charles Overby, former CEO of the Freedom Forum, a non-profit organization dedicated to protecting the First Amendment. Most of CCA’s stock is held by banks and board members. Bauer, with his single share, is an outlier. CCA has rebranded itself as CoreCivic, a “‘government solutions’ company, though its business is the same” (286). A promotional video shows smiling inmates and serene landscapes while claiming that CoreCivic’s purpose is “to better the public good” (286).

At a CoreCivic shareholder meeting, after some perfunctory administrative business, the CEO Mark Emkes opens the floor to questions. Alex Friedmann, an activist, asks about Damien Coestly’s death and how CoreCivic is working to prevent future suicides. Another activist asks about transparency. Executives respond in vague generalities. Then, Bauer asks about the high levels of violence in private prisons, the abysmal pay, the excessive use of force. His questions go unanswered. As the meeting ends, Emkes dismisses the critics and urges CoreCivic’s management and staff to continue “the incredible good you do for offenders in our care” (289).