Prisoners Told Us Why They're Scared About Coronavirus in Jail

While citizens are now being advised to self-isolate and avoid mass gatherings, individuals currently serving custodial prison sentences find themselves in an even stranger set of circumstances than usual. A report from the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine has warned that prisons are the perfect petri-dishes for the disease to spread, and the first coronavirus case in a UK prison was confirmed at Strangeways in Manchester on Wednesday.

I teach in a prison. With the severity of the COVID-19 outbreak escalating on an hourly basis, the atmosphere inside tangibly on edge. I decided to ask my students what they thought about the virus and its impact on their prison experience.

Names have been changed to protect prisoners’ anonymity.

Keith, 50, is serving his first custodial sentence as an adult, having stayed out of prison since his completing his final sentence as a Youth Offender over 30 years ago. He is due to be released in eight weeks.

Keith has been vocal about the poor conditions he has experienced during his sentence, but the outbreak of the coronavirus has seen him change his tack somewhat.

“I might punch a screw, get an extra six months,” he jokes. “Seriously though, the way it is in here, we’re self-isolating for most of the time anyway. Next to no contact with the outside world, tell your wife and kids to stay away. Sorted.”

But what about the apparent lack of hygiene inside, won’t this make it more likely that if one person gets infected it will spread quickly?

“There’s already been a difference in prisoners,” Keith says. “Even the dirty rats who wouldn’t shower before are now washing their hands. I’ve seen it. Everyone has.”

The rest of the class confirm this. Over the last week or so prison officers have told me that it’s been a lot easier to get the stubborn minority of inmates who have bad personal hygiene to clean themselves.

“Look, this thing isn’t going away any time soon,” Keith says. “Most people on the outside haven’t got the discipline to self-isolate properly. To be honest, I’d be still going about my business as normal if I wasn’t in here. But right now, the safest I feel is when I’m on lockdown.”

Timo, 28, has been sentenced to seven years for robbery and is waiting to be transferred to a Category A prison. He has served four previous custodial sentences but this will be his longest stay by some distance.

I ask him how he feels about beginning his sentence in the current climate.

“Bro, it’s wild," he says. "Like, I don’t agree with Keith at all. Inside is the worst place to be. What kind of health care do we have here? Terrible. They can’t look after us anyway, and that’s without a killer virus blowing up. I’m going to a Cat A, bare full of killers, and I’m absolutely shitting it about getting a cold.”

Timo had been feeling stressed about his impending sentence anyway, but he appears earnestly worried about the situation regarding COVID-19. I ask him what measures he might consider taking to minimise the risk.

“No contact with anyone,” he says. “No sharing a cell, no chance. I’ll be in a single to start with anyway, but if they try to move me, I’ll threaten to kill myself, trash the cell. Anything like that to stay on my ones. I don’t eat meat or dairy, so food shouldn’t be as much of a problem for me, but even then I’m going to have to drink the same water, use the same showers. It’s bad, and there’ll be more and more madness if man on wing suspects you have it.”

And what about the risk of officers bringing the virus inside with them?

“Bro, don’t even get me started on that,” He says, to laughter from the group. “We’ll be on skeleton staff before you know it. That’s when things could go next level wildness.”

Martin, 24, is has been in and out of prison since he was a teenager, always on relatively short sentences, but so far unable to stay out for longer than a couple of months at a time. He has spent time in approximately ten prisons in total and experienced rioting and a range of prisoner-led disruption.

“I feel bad for anyone who comes in new to a wing,” he says. “They’ll be sneaking back to their cell every time they need to sneeze or cough. Serious now, anyone who even looks like they’ve got it will be in danger from other prisoners. It’s not that difficult to get someone shifted off your wing if you go down that route, I’ve seen it happen.”

I ask Martin where he sees these prisoners, whether they have the virus or not, being moved to.

“Nonce wing,” He says. “Simples. Anyone thinks you’re bringing a disease in to their wing and they’ll have you off it that day. Nonces aren’t going to be like that, they’re a different breed. If you do actually have it then you’ll go to medical wing. But they’re so shit there, there’s just no way they’re going to be able to handle it.”

Kendal, 23, is in remand on multiple counts of assault, including that of his ex-partner and the mother of his young child. If convicted, he can expect to be sentenced to between two and four years. He is currently pleading not guilty.

“I’ve got asthma,” he says. “And I’m on methadone. I’ve already been given the wrong meds twice, and had to wait two weeks without nothing when I first arrived here. I’m fucked if corona gets inside. You’ve got people already on suicide watch, tapped in the head, all of them will get worse the longer this lasts.”

I ask Kendal what kind of support is available to him, specific to his physical and mental health issues, in light of the virus outbreak.

“Fuck all,” he says. “The screws [guards] aren’t interested anyway. They’re not going to be coming near us with all this going on. Two peer mentors on my wing have quit because they don’t want to go into anyone else’s cells. It’s look after yourself now, fuck the rest.”