When Incarceration Becomes a Death Sentence

A look at how the COVID-19 outbreak is causing havoc at an Ohio federal prison.

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The last time Olivia Garcia spoke to her father, Margarito Garcia-Fragoso, was a week before he got sick. Incarcerated at Elkton Federal Correctional Facility in Ohio, Garcia-Fragoso could only call her, not the other way around. But they emailed to stay in touch. 

On Friday, March 27, Garcia received a text message from the wife of another inmate who said that her husband was passing on a message from Garcia’s father: Garcia-Fragoso was going to see the Elkton nurse because he couldn’t breathe. 

The next day, Garcia called Elkton. They said her father was in the ICU and intubated, but stable. 

“Had I not have known that [he was sick], they wouldn’t have told me my dad was in the hospital,” Garcia told The Progressive in an interview on April 8. She says Elkton refused to tell her which hospital her father had been admitted to. 

Garcia-Fragoso had just one year left on his sentence, for drug and weapons charges. In early 2020, his lawyer filed a motion for home confinement. It was only after he was in the ICU that his daughter learned the motion had been denied. 

On Wednesday, April 1, an Elkton health administrator informed Garcia that her father was in critical condition. At 1:30 a.m. on Friday, April 3, the Elkton facility administrator called Garcia to tell her that her father died alone the evening before. 

According to a press release from the Bureau of Prisons, Garcia-Fragoso was taken to the hospital where “his condition quickly declined.” The press release also states that he “had long-term, pre-existing medical conditions, which the CDC lists as risk factors for developing more severe COVID-19 disease.” 

But his daughter flatly denies this. 

“He exercised every single morning,”  Garcia says. “That was so important to him to be strong and to be healthy.” Garcia says his cellmates told her that every morning Garcia-Fragoso would wake them up, instructing them to do burpees and pushups. 

“He was so physically fit and healthy and when I read that, what a defamation of character,” she says. Other press releases on the Federal Bureau of Prisons website use the exact same language in notices of coronavirus-related deaths. 

“What else are they trying to slip under the rug?” Garcia asks. “What else are [they] hiding?”

On April 6, Ohio Governor Mike DeWine announced that he was sending in the National Guard to help Elkton, the state’s only federal prison, cope with the outbreak. By then, three inmates had already died, and dozens more reportedly had symptoms.

“I ask myself: Do our lives matter? Because there has been little done here to prevent the spread of this vicious virus.”

Several days earlier, U.S. Attorney General William Barr named Elkton as one of three hotspots where the coronavirus was rapidly spreading in federal prisons, along with facilities in Danbury, Connecticut, and Oakdale, Louisiana. Barr directed officials at these prisons to release inmates to home confinement, especially if they had pre-existing conditions that put them particularly at risk. At the time of Barr’s memo, five people had died in Oakdale and two in Elkton.  

Around the country, organizations have filed lawsuits seeking the release of at-risk inmates in federal and state prisons. Similarly, immigrant rights’ groups have taken action on behalf of Immigration and Customs Enforcement detainees. 

Family members and loved ones of inmates at Elkton have reached out to me about the fast-deteriorating conditions—even since Barr’s announcement. In fact, several inmates have told their families that the warden at Elkton seems to be resisting Barr’s directives, repeatedly telling inmates that they’re not going anywhere.

“I’m so mad,” says one inmate’s wife, who asked that her name not be used. She says her husband sent a message to his mother, begging, “Please don’t let me die in here.” The wife, a nurse practitioner, said it’s not possible for inmates to isolate themselves, and the facility has not been taking adequate steps to ensure cleanliness. 

The facility currently houses around 2,500 inmates, but inmates say the level-two security prison is overcrowded. Like a dormitory, there are three men to a pod, ensuring that people can’t distance themselves from others who might be infected. Ohio’s prison system is 10,000 people over capacity, causing overcrowding in facilities across the state.

“The National Guard won’t solve the problem,” says one inmate’s mother, “You’re going to have a lot of dead people.”

Another inmate told his wife that his case manager took a month off of work to avoid contracting COVID-19. Other inmates have said staffing shortages have made a dangerous situation worse.

“There are people in there coughing their heads off and those people don’t care,” the wife says. “The way they’re treating these guys is inhumane. I’m a tough cookie, but as soon as he hangs up the phone I’m bawling. Because I can tell in his voice how much fear he has.”

Another inmate’s wife told The Progressive that her husband’s medical conditions already put him at risk. He has severe asthma and sickle cell disease, neither of which were being adequately treated even before the pandemic. 

“You’re wondering if you’re going to die in here,” one inmate said, in a comment relayed by a family member. “They took so many people yesterday to the hospital. How am I not supposed to feel a certain way?”

One inmate asked his wife to share a plea for help: “In the last two weeks, I have seen this prison turned upside down with sickness and deaths!” he wrote. “I ask myself: Do our lives matter? Because there has been little done here to prevent the spread of this vicious virus.”

Many inmates inside Elkton are nonviolent offenders, and some have only a few months remaining on their sentence. None of them have been given the death penalty, which is what they now face due to the outbreak.

Margarito Garcia-Fragoso’s death has been devastating to his family, his daughter says. He is survived by his seven children and ten grandchildren.

“My dad was such a well-respected man, and he loved his family,” she says. “I looked at him like my superhero. He always protected me and showed me how much he loved me.”

Garcia says the Bureau of Prisons is paying to transport her father’s remains back to his family in Racine, Wisconsin. There will be a viewing of the body, but only ten people will be allowed to attend. The ceremony will be livestreamed for family members who cannot attend in person. 

“I can’t see the Bureau doing that for every single inmate,” she adds, “given the number of people they anticipate passing.”