The disheartening reality of communication in federal prisons. Tablets sold to inmates with the promise of maintaining contact with loved ones came with broken promise where their chat apps disabled, leaving inmates isolated and their loved ones in a constant state of worry.
In the digital age, where technology has made communication easier than ever, one group remains neglected – the incarcerated. The introduction of electronic tablets in prisons was seen as a beacon of hope, promising to keep inmates connected with their loved ones. However, the reality is far from this promise.
Imagine an iPad, but stuck in its prototype phase. That’s what prison tablets are like. They don’t connect to the internet, but offer censored content like PG-13 movies and non-explicit music for a fee. The selling point? They were supposed to have messaging and chat apps, offering a lifeline during prison lockdowns when pay phones are inaccessible.
Since 2022, federal inmates have been able to purchase these tablets. But an independent investigation reveals a shocking truth: federal prisons have disabled the messaging features on these tablets. This leaves inmates isolated during lockdowns, unable to reassure their loved ones of their safety.
Lockdowns, a form of solitary confinement, restrict inmates to their cells for 22 to 24 hours per day. Access to basic activities like education, religious activities, and even showers are significantly reduced or cut entirely. Historically, lockdowns were used during dangerous events and lasted only a few days. However, they have now become a crutch for institutional issues like short staffing.
Frequent lockdowns leave inmates with no options to communicate with their loved ones, causing distress for both parties. Electronic tablets became a lifeline during the pandemic when most institutions were locked down for several months. Prison telecom giant Securus even announced it would provide free messaging on its tablets during the Covid crisis.
However, the introduction of tablets is not purely altruistic. Even the “free” tablets are offered on a fee-per-download basis at an inflated price.
However, the introduction of tablets is not purely altruistic. Even the “free” tablets are offered on a fee-per-download basis at an inflated price. This business model draws criticism from prison-rights activists who see it as a new scheme for private corporations to profit off a captive market.
Despite the high fees, for the families of federal inmates, a tablet can be a real lifeline. But when the tablets finally reached federal facilities, they came with a caveat. The Bureau of Prisons confirmed that it was introducing the Keefe Score 7c tablet into federal institutions, but it was discovered that federal prisons have disabled the messaging and phone call functions on these tablets.
The restrictions on electronic tablets aren’t the only obstacles inmates face when trying to stay in touch with loved ones. The Federal Bureau of Prisons also enforces a monthly cap on telephone minutes. This policy, while intended to ensure the security or good order of the institution, can result in frustration and friction in the facilities.
In the end, technology can be a lifeline, an antidote to loneliness, isolation, and disconnectedness. But when it’s dangled just out of reach, it can provoke violence and hopelessness. As one inmate puts it, “We still in the age of AOL. Five desktops and four phones for over 100 inmates, so it’s either miss a meal or call a loved one. And they expect us to behave …”
