The Sentence

The prison holds 2,400 people. It was built for 1,600. The company that runs it gets paid per bed. Empty beds are lost revenue. Full beds are the product.

The company’s stock trades on the NYSE. Their investor presentations use phrases like “occupancy rates.” The same language hotels use. The same metric. The difference is the hotel guest can leave.

The contract with the state includes a minimum occupancy guarantee. Ninety percent. If the prison falls below capacity, the state pays a penalty. The taxpayers pay a corporation for not having enough people in cages. The corporation needs bodies. The state can’t afford to not provide them. The person inside is the unit of currency.

He got five years for possession. Not distribution. The amount would have been a misdemeanor in the state next door. But this state has mandatory minimums written by legislators who received campaign contributions from the corporation that operates the prison. The loop is closed.

Inside, he works. The commissary job pays $0.23 an hour. The phone call to his family costs $1.65 per minute. The video visit costs $12.99 for thirty minutes. His family pays the cost of maintaining the relationship the institution severed.

When he gets out — if the parole board’s risk assessment algorithm doesn’t flag him — he’ll have a record. The record follows him to every job application, every apartment application. The sentence is five years. The record is forever.

This is the system working as designed. The corporation is profitable. The state meets its budget. The judge followed the statute. The legislature wrote the law. The lobbyist wrote the law the legislature signed. And the person inside is the input that makes all of it function.