Inside the outbreak: how COVID-19 spread in San Quentin

Death in prison is one of my worst fears. I can only imagine being killed by being shot or stabbed in the prison yard. I have been preparing for an attack for many years. But 25 years later, I didn’t think it was an attack from COVID-19.

Nevertheless, the infection is here in San Quentin and people are dying. Listen to the word “man down” every 20 to 30 minutes. I’m a 48 year old high risk African American asthma man and it’s scary to see men around me get sick. You feel helpless and all you can do is pray for illness and death to overload your senses.

You didn’t have to do this. Since the implementation of Lockdown, there has been zero infection within San Quentin. We thought we would soon return to school, attend college classes, and enjoy self-help and family contact visits. However, on May 30, the bus stopped from Chino Prison where COVID-19 was widespread. 121 men Some showed COVID-19 symptoms and left the bus, according to medical personnel working in the prison reception area.

Within weeks, the internal infection rate has exploded. Troy Dunmore, who has been jailed for 25 years, launched COVID-19 in late June.

“I was so painful that I could hardly get out of bed,” Dunmore said. “One night I urinate myself. A few weeks later, I was unconscious trying to work out.”

To date, more than 2,460 imprisoned men and more than 260 prison officials have been infected with the virus. The prison officer is dead. 26 imprisoned people have died. One man, who was released earlier in the outbreak, died while being isolated in a Novato motel. Some imprisoned people have mechanical ventilation or serious illness. These are not mild cases.

Since the outbreak, emergency vehicles have repeatedly entered the gates of San Quentin, rushing people to hospitals in the Bay Area. This is currently the deadliest prison outbreak in the country, and many of us are afraid of what would happen if the second wave hits.

Trouble shooting

To my surprise, I had little idea what was happening before this sudden spike. Without warning, the outbreak spread like a wildfire, and San Quentin began quarantine infected people in prisons, chapels, tents, and warehouses of prison industry authorities. They also built a 160-bed temporary tent with a double-glazed door in a prison baseball stadium to accommodate some people indefinitely.

“We need your help to control the spread of the virus. We need to accept the test to identify new cases,” Sankentin’s healthcare team finally wrote down in a memo. It was.

While these measures are meant to save lives, for many insiders the testing and quarantine process is traumatic. Arthur Jackson was exposed to COVID-19 in June. He was isolated in the Carson section. The Carson section is a punishment unit that felt like something was being treated wrong.

“We can’t buy soap powder, table soap or pouch food, or spend more than $50,” Jackson wrote to me. We were in the same prison but couldn’t see each other because we were in quarantine. “I am handcuffed whenever I leave my cell.”

Dunmore said he had moved from a solitary cell in North Block to the Badger section, one of four administrative segregation units in South Block, also known as the “hole.”

“The cells are so dirty that they need to be thoroughly washed,” he said. “The supplies they provide to us are of little use. They are noisy and crowded.”

It is not just the punishment of quarantine that makes life difficult. I’m also afraid of losing personal items and pairing with bad cellmates when they are moved to quarantine, when they return to their normal homes. We are also worried that after the infected person is removed from the cell and quarantined elsewhere, the cell itself is not properly cleaned.

Vincent Obanon, a contributor to San Quentin News, said he believed he had captured COVID-19 from asymptomatic cellmates. “I spent 21 days isolated in a garden tent,” he said. “Then they returned me to the same cell.”

Normalize in a hurry

Under the belief that COVID-19 survivors develop immunity to the virus, prisoners who no longer needed isolation were returned to double cells. But everyone is certainly afraid that prison officials are playing Russian roulette in our lives, among many uncertainties.

Authorities are in a hurry to get the imprisoned man doing important work to work as a shuttle driver. Food service, dining room, pick up and release. Workers cleaning residential units and maintaining hospital facilities. Prison staff were handling most of this workload during the outbreak.

But now, in order to free prison officials to other duties, authorities are providing prison workers called “COVID resolved” with 10-hour instructions on occupational health and safety standards corresponding to COVID-19. I will. People in prison are trained in how to properly wear and wear N-95 masks, and computers are used to make sure these masks fit properly.

However, the measures have been met with some skepticism among the inmates. “They’re trying to help us stay trapped in this death trap,” said one imprisoned critical worker who wanted to remain anonymous because of fear of retaliation.

News usually travels fast through San Quentin. Detainees hear what’s going on through reviews, phone calls, television, newspapers, and memorandums. Some of us are in contact with prison advocates who fight to reduce overcrowding in San Quentin. But the amount and uncertainty of the information provided makes everything even more overwhelming.

These are the stressful times in San Quentin. We suffer from anxiety, nightmares, and sleepless nights. None of us trust prison officials to keep us safe or provide us with proper medical care. Many of us are saddened by the loss of friends we have and the lack of compassion from prison staff. Some of us are mentally and physically deteriorating.

And all of us are still free from the shock of COVID-19 reaching San Quentin. We don’t have time to process this trauma yet, but in fact, we may have to endure another outbreak of COVID-19 before healing actually begins.