Post-Prison Confusion in California: Thousands Released Prematurely, Many Including Coronaviruses

California, USA — Christopher Skull has a vivid memory of early summer at San Quentin State Prison. During the worst coronavirus outbreak that infected more than 2,200 inmates in prison, a siren “defeated a man” seemed to ring every 30 minutes, signaling a medical emergency. Other prisoners fell to the ground while staff rushed to a sick prisoner in a wheelchair or gurney.

In desperation to control outbreaks in overcrowded prisons in California, state authorities open gates Thousands of prisoners Like a skull, it contains more before the scheduled release date.

Skull, who was diagnosed as virus positive in June but had mild symptoms, was released from San Quentin in mid-July after working for 22 years for carjacking and robbery. He said the authorities had released them a few weeks earlier and sent them to a motel in Gardena in southern Los Angeles for quarantine and recovery.

From the start of the pandemic to the end of this month, California 11,000 prisoners Early — Most non-violent criminals with less than a year of service — Reduce prison population to a minimum of 30 years..

Overwhelmed by that amount, California’s patchwork reentry system is rushing for many to find transport, housing, food and other services for released prisoners exposed to the virus.

As of this week, the state has released more 300 inmates known to have been infected..

The 42-year-old Skull had no time to complete his parole program before being released.

“It was very chaotic,” Skull said. “All support teams, employment, all in the Bay Area.” However, he was taken to a motel in Los Angeles County, where he had little supervision or guidance on what to do. “When I was released, I took it myself to track the parole agent,” he said.

Skull escaped once while quarantine in a hotel room. Wow, that was great,” he said.

Nonprofits, county probation officers, and state authorities were not prepared to deal with the influx of people liberated into motels, group housing, and communities.

“I had a friend who protested, “I will give them to everyone.” I said, “You don’t understand. There is no external system that can handle this.” California re-entry programProvides parole and pre-release services to San Quentin detainees. “There are transitory people when they are arrested. They are mentally ill, have substance abuse problems, and we release them early without social service.”

According to Tata, her program received letters from people in prison asking them to help connect with outside services, but by the time they could respond, the men had already appeared. It was

The outbreak in prison began in late May. Sick inmates transferred From Chino Men’s Facility in California to San Quentin and other facilities.

Between July 1 and August 6, approximately 9,500 prisoners were released from state prisons. According to the fix department, almost half were initial releases.

“It just didn’t have this infrastructure,” Anti-recidivism coalition, A non-profit organization based in Los Angeles. “This was done very quickly and was successful because many community-based organizations have done this with their own resources.”

His organization estimates that mileage, meals, personal protective equipment, clothing, employee wages, etc. cost $650 to bring one person to a residential property. He helped private donors pay for it, but he said more state funds are now available.

“This is going on forever,” Tata said. “What the pandemic did is to highlight the inadequacies of the system.”

As of this week, approximately 9,000 California prisoners were virus-positive and more than 50 died. According to the correction department.. The 2,200 people infected with San Quentin represent more than two-thirds of the current population.

Prison Unique dangerous place To spread the disease.

US prisoners were more than five times more likely than the general population to test positive, Study in July Co-author UCLA Law COVID-19 Behind Bars Data Project.

“You had people sitting in the ducks,” said Sharon Drović, a law professor who runs the data project. “You have many vulnerable people who need to escape,” Drović said. “And you have a re-entry side that you are overworked due to lack of funds.”

But in the end, the state had had to stop the outbreak, even if it meant a difficult day for re-entrants, she said.

“When the house is on fire, you drive people out,” Drović said, repeating what she heard from her colleagues. “We don’t leave someone in a burning house to wait for someone to get a place to land.”

Former prisoners at facilities with outbreaks are to be quarantined, usually in hotel rooms, for two weeks before going to temporary housing or the community.

“For public health reasons, we cannot place a person identified as being COVID-19 positive or exposed to a community reentry program.”

The ministry said it relied on and expanded contracts with nonprofit and community organizations to provide re-entry programs. There is also state funding for additional housing needs.

There were some concerns about the possibility of previous prisoners spreading the virus through the community. However, corrections officials said the former prisoners could not be forcibly quarantined. “The CDCR is not allowed to require quarantine as a special condition of parole because it has nothing to do with criminal activity or future criminal activity,” said Simas.

CalMatters contacted public health departments in 10 of California’s most populous counties to track former prisoners. Half said it was responsive and said there were no signs of community expansion associated with the release.

Since mid-July, the state has tested all inmates “within seven days of release,” Shimus said. “In addition to testing in the lab, we also perform a point-of-care quick-response COVID-19 test prior to individual release.”

CalMatters spoke to two former prisoners released just before these protocols went into effect. Both say they haven’t been tested in the week prior to release.

Chanthon Bun, 41, said he refused to be tested before leaving San Quentin because he was worried that his release would be delayed. The test site was so full that he was worried if he had no virus.

Bun appeared on a regular parole day in July. At that time, he said he had had viral symptoms for several days, including fever and chills.

“Everyone in my building in San Quentin had a COVID,” Bun said.

After release, Bun, a Cambodian refugee who was worried about being taken over by the federal Immigration Bureau, declined the hotel room offer for quarantine and instead jumped on a bus to San Francisco. There he said he met a defender and his lawyer who took him to undergo a coronavirus test-he was positive-and he had been pierced for recovery I went to the Bay Area Church.

“I thought I was really going to die,” he said. After weeks of fever of 105 degrees and dyspnea, he finally tested negative.

James Prison, another prisoner who spent 35 years in prison, said it was for a nonprofit. California Reentry Research Institute, He would have been lost after leaving. The institute helped him obtain a social security card and birth certificate and provided emotional support during the transition.

Wortham, 54, worked in a prison hospital, but was only tested twice for coronaviruses, and the last negative test took more than two weeks before he appeared in early July. “They didn’t test me at all when I left,” he said.

Collet Carroll, executive director and president of the California Reentry Research Institute, said the parole officer intends to send a man to the reentry station. When she told him he was COVID positive, he was sent to quarantine at the hotel instead.

“There is a lot of confusion,” she said.

The local probation department also oversees many of the people leaving jail. The Los Angeles County Probation Department has overseen about 700 new people as a result of prison release last month. In Contra Costa County, the Probation Department has received 38 urgent releases to supervise since July. Cops sometimes had to pick people up from prison, perhaps exposing them to viruses.

In late July, Skull was able to move into a temporary home in the Bay Area and gain access to substance abuse sponsors, life coaches and employment networks.

But when the house went into quarantine because of the outbreak of the virus itself, his freedom was recently reduced again. Skull brought a unique perspective to life in the new pandemic shelter.

“I’m used to being imprisoned,” he said. “It’s not a big deal for me.”