This story describes a lethal injection procedure used in state executions.

In May, a group of healthcare workers spent about an hour trying to establish complete IV access so they could inject Tony Carruthers, an inmate at the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Nashville, Tennessee, with a lethal dose of sedative.

Maria DeLiberato, an attorney for Carruthers, was in the room. She said the workers stuck his arms and feet with needles, to no avail. A doctor then tried to insert a central line through his collarbone and shoulder. That didn’t work, either.

Carruthers groaned in pain and blood oozed from puncture wounds, DeLiberato said in a news briefing.

After more than an hour, Gov. Bill Lee called the warden, ordering him to halt the execution attempt. He later granted Carruthers a one-year reprieve.

Now, as another approaches, doctors and nurses in the state say they want medical professionals removed from the execution process. They’ve also joined defense attorneys and nine Republican state lawmakers in demanding a moratorium on the death penalty and an overhaul of the state’s execution methods.

The doctors’ arguments echoed those the American Medical Association has made and in its code of ethics.

Tennessee is where the death penalty is legal, according to the Death Penalty Information Center, a nonprofit that offers data and analysis on issues surrounding capital punishment.

Governors in four of those states have halted all executions, citing and , such as being unable to obtain lethal injection drugs amid pharmaceutical companies’ refusal to sell them for use in executions. Lethal injection is still the primary nationwide, but some states may use , a , or .

Since the beginning of 2020, 170 people have been executed in 17 states, with most occurring in Florida, Texas, and Oklahoma. In that time, six states have had , according to the , which defines those as executions that include a departure from the protocol because of unanticipated problems and that cause more pain for the prisoner than anticipated, whether they ultimately end with a death or not. Several of the stories read like Carruthers’ — protracted but ultimately failed attempts to establish IV access.

Tennessee Health Workers’ Concerns

The IV team gave up on trying to place a typical line into Carruthers after several failed attempts, according to DeLiberato’s account. , physician Mark Fowler, a contractor for the state’s prison system, then tried to place a central line in a deeper vein. That’s a quasi-surgical procedure in which a plastic tube is inserted in the chest, groin, or neck. Fowler used a series of syringes, trying to insert the tube under Carruthers’ collarbone and then through his shoulder.

In an , Fowler said he hadn’t done such a procedure in the 12 years since he had stopped working in an emergency room, and didn’t know that placing a central line could be among his execution duties.

Fowler told NPR by phone on Sept. 24 that “the doctor does not participate in the execution. The only thing the doctor does is declare the person dead.” He did not have further comment.

Two months after the halted lethal injection, more than 40 doctors and nurses to Lee, calling on the Republican governor to pause executions and redesign the protocol to omit health workers from the process.

The letter said that Tennessee’s rules requiring the participation of pharmacists, physicians, and other healthcare workers in executions are at odds with medical ethics, as well as guidelines explicitly laid out by groups such as the American Medical Association. The doctors are to preserve life when there is hope of doing so and bars participation in executions.

“This means that the health care professionals who agree to take part in Tennessee’s executions are those willing to set aside their professional ethics,” the letter to Lee reads. “The problems that we have seen, such as in Mr. Carruthers’s case, are the predictable result of working with such unscrupulous actors.”

John Greer, a retired Nashville hematologist, said in a news conference about the letter that he wasn’t surprised the central line placement went awry.

“Placing a central line is not just sticking a needle in a person’s arm,” he said.

Greer said the doctor has to tap a large vessel above the heart. He said that it’s a risky procedure in which an error could cause a collapsed lung or heavy bleeding — and that only those with specific training and routine practice should attempt.

“And I cannot imagine that there would be someone who’s doing these routinely who would be involved in this procedure,” Greer said.

Some Republican state senators also hold on executions and an overhaul of the process, saying that “incompetent administration” of capital punishment gives its critics more ammunition.

This summer, Lee said he didn’t want a pause.

“The Department of Correction did exactly what they should,” he said. “It should not affect executions in the future.”

“It’s one of the most difficult things that we do in this state,” Lee said later. “But I am committed to making sure that it is done in the way that it should be.”

The state’s lethal injection protocol orders the prison to keep a curtain over the media witnesses’ viewing window until the IVs are established, so none of them could offer a visual account of the failed execution attempt.

A has been filed has been filed by the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press and news outlets including NPR member station WPLN. The lawsuit argues the lack of transparency during the IV placement process obscures problems like the ones that happened in Carruthers’ case.

There’s a broad understanding in the U.S. that the medical establishment doesn’t participate in executions, said , director of the Center for Bioethics and Humanities at the University of Colorado’s medical school.

“We came out of World War II with a whole bioethics and medical ethics enterprise that is really strongly opposed to medicine serving as an arm of the state and using specialized medical skills to hurt people or kill people,” Wynia said.

A history of medical abuses by government doctors — such as and unethical studies of in the U.S., and in Nazi Germany — forged that consensus, he said.

Wynia mentioned other nations where medical professionals still participate in executions.

“But they are, you know, Iran and Saudi Arabia and Russia, sort of authoritarian states, where medicine is an arm of the government,” Wynia said. “Medical involvement in executions ends up happening because medicine is unable to say, ‘No, we don’t do that.’”

Upcoming Execution

On Sept. 30, Tennessee is scheduled to execute Christa Pike, who was 18 years old when she and her boyfriend killed Colleen Slemmer.

Pike’s attorneys this year raised several concerns that the state’s lethal injection protocol would violate her rights. Among them is their contention that because she suffers from a platelet disorder, it’s likely she will need a central line placed. They also argued that she was at risk of needless suffering, alleging Carruthers’ execution showed that Fowler — who has that he will oversee Pike’s execution — is incompetent at placing central lines.

In June, they put all of those concerns to the Tennessee Supreme Court, asking for a special investigator to collect evidence and hold hearings to determine whether they warranted an order to delay her execution and design a method for only her.

The court did appoint a special investigator, Senior Judge Mark Ward. He held a series of hearings in Knoxville last month. Ward said he didn’t believe Pike’s rights would be violated by the process and submitted to the court.

On Sept. 23, the Tennessee Supreme Court , agreeing with Ward, saying none of the concerns amounted to a constitutional violation. On Sept. 28, Lee announced he would not grant her clemency.

This article is from a partnership that includes , , and 51ÊÓƵ Health News.

This article first appeared on 51ÊÓƵ Health News and is republished here under a .

51ÊÓƵ Health News contributor Erin Rode discussed California prison heat protections on KVPR’s Central Valley Daily on Sept. 24.

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• Read Rode’s “California Eyes Prison Heat Protections That Fall Short of Workplace Standards.”

51ÊÓƵ Health News chief Washington correspondent Julie Rovner discussed the removal of more than 750,000 people from Affordable Care Act coverage over fraud claims on WBUR’s Here & Now on Sept. 23. Rovner also discussed “Medicare for All” on WNYC’s The Brian Lehrer Show on Sept. 22.

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51ÊÓƵ Health News senior correspondent Stephanie Armour discussed health secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s comments to an anti-vaccine group that he founded and the surgeon general nominee’s contradictory comments in her confirmation hearing on WBUR’s Here & Now on Sept. 18.

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Céline Gounder, 51ÊÓƵ Health News’ editor-at-large for public health, discussedÌýKennedy’s comments on CBS News 24/7 on Sept. 17.

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This article first appeared on 51ÊÓƵ Health News and is republished here under a .

But there’s a notable exception in the state’s heat safety rules: Not covered are the nurses, guards, staff, and tens of thousands of incarcerated people who work in California’s aging correctional facilities, which are .

In 2024, California adopted landmark rules intended to protect more than 1 million workers who toil in sweltering warehouses, kitchens, factories, and other indoor workplaces. But the state Occupational Safety and Health Standards Board exempted prisons and local government detention and juvenile facilities after Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom’s administration warned the rules could cost the state billions.

Two years later, the Newsom administration has put forward weaker indoor heat standards for California’s correctional facilities, alarming worker advocates and public health experts who argue they would provide inadequate protections from extreme heat as the risks worsen due to climate change. Regulators with the state’s Division of Occupational Safety and Health, or Cal/OSHA, have proposed protections that wouldn’t kick in until temperatures reach 87 degrees — 5 degrees higher than for other indoor workplaces, according to released in May.

“It’s basically a second-class standard, and we don’t accept that correction workers get weaker protections than everybody else, with no scientific or medical basis,” said Stephen Knight, co-executive director of Worksafe, a California nonprofit that pushes for workplace health and safety protections. “The human body doesn’t handle heat differently in a prison than, you know, an Amazon warehouse.”

Extreme heat is the in the U.S., with spiking during heat waves as elevated temperatures exacerbate other health problems, including cardiovascular and respiratory diseases. Even among people without preexisting conditions, prolonged exposure to heat without the opportunity to cool off can cause , which can lead to death.

State agencies have estimated the price tag to cool California’s prisons could run from to in upfront costs, although the Newsom administration has refused to provide detailed information and declined interview requests.

“These facilities were exempted from the indoor heat standard due to the unique challenges in the correctional institutions with complying,” Eric Berg, Cal/OSHA’s deputy chief of health, research, and standards, told stakeholders at a recent meeting. He added that “we’re creating a separate standard to kind of address their unique conditions they have in those facilities.”

Heat Health Risks

California’s average temperature across an entire year is about than it was in 1895. At least nine of the 10 warmest years on record have occurred since 2014, and scientists project 2026 could be .

That warming, driven by the burning of fossil fuels, has accelerated in the decades since many of California’s 31 adult state prisons were built. Many of those facilities are located in some of the state’s hottest areas, including the Central Valley and inland areas of Southern California, where temperatures can soar into the triple digits. Fewer than a quarter of the prison system’s 791 housing units have any type of mechanical cooling such as air conditioning, according to a January released by the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. Instead, institutions rely on fans and swamp coolers, but the uninsulated concrete walls mean these ad hoc solutions often face a losing battle.

“The best way to describe it is like someone turned on the microwave, and then they put you in it,” said Leonard Brown, a community organizer with Worksafe who spent over 30 years incarcerated in 10 state prisons, including in Lancaster and at the now-closed Chuckawalla Valley State Prison in Blythe, communities where triple-digit outdoor temperatures are common.

The lack of insulation in buildings makes it difficult to keep temperatures below 89 degrees even in facilities with air conditioning, according to California’s corrections department. The aging institutions, which average 52 years old, were mostly built when “comfort level of the incarcerated population and staff was not a consideration or a priority,” according to a . In 2024, the department tallied 86 days when indoor temperatures reached 90 degrees or above in at least one institution, and 46 days when indoor temperatures reached 95 degrees or more.

Health experts say people are particularly vulnerable to heat while at work because they’re not in control of their surrounding environment. They can’t always leave work for a cooling center, crank up the air conditioning, or jump in the shower, and their ability to protect themselves from heat depends on their type of job, income, and an array of other factors.

“Say you’re working in a warehouse or an agricultural field. It can be really hard to walk away because you need the money for yourself or for your family. But you can, right? It’s an option,” said Bharat Venkat, director of the UCLA Heat Lab, which studies the unequal effects of extreme heat. “If you’re incarcerated, you can’t really say no.”

And because incarcerated workers often make less than 50 cents an hour, it could take weeks to make enough to purchase a personal fan or a cooling towel, a from Venkat’s lab found.

Separate Standards

Newsom, who has been exploring a presidential run, has sought to position himself as a climate leader and in August released an , which touted the state’s 2024 indoor worker heat protections and noted that rules for correctional workers were in development.

“Californians are feeling the impacts of extreme heat earlier, longer, and more intensely than ever before,” Newsom said in a statement when he released the plan. He added: “We’re setting the path for the next chapter of our hotter, drier future.”

California is among a handful of states that have sought to protect indoor and outdoor workers from extreme heat over the past two decades. After multiple farmworkers died of heat-related causes in 2005, California adopted emergency standards for outdoor workers and made them permanent the following year. In 2024, the Biden administration for indoor and outdoor workers, but the Trump administration .

Still, Newsom has faced criticism from worker advocates and public health experts for his administration’s slow embrace of indoor heat protections, which took roughly and approve. And protections for prison workers are still years away, with the timeline “still being determined,” Cal/OSHA spokesperson MariCarmen Estudillo said in an email.

The 2024 rules require employers to provide cooldown areas and take other protective steps once indoor temperatures reach 82 degrees. They also require employers to keep both the indoor temperature and heat index, which factors in humidity, below 87 degrees, or below 82 degrees when employees are wearing heat-restrictive clothing or working near a heat source like an oven.

Under the proposed rules for prisons, safety standards wouldn’t kick in until temperatures reach 87 degrees. And employers would not be required to factor in the heat index, radiant heat, and humidity — all of which can make the temperature feel even hotter.

“Temperature alone does not accurately measure how dangerous working conditions are in these facilities,” said Janice O’Malley, a legislative advocate with the American Federation of State, County & Municipal Employees, which represents many of the medical and mental health staff within CDCR, as well as employees at local detention centers and juvenile facilities across the state.

“The heat index accounts for humidity and reflects how hot conditions actually feel to the human body, and it’s incredibly difficult to cool down through sweating in the correctional facilities where our folks work,” O’Malley said, adding that CDCR employees work in buildings with poor ventilation, often while wearing protective clothing that traps heat.

CDCR declined requests for an interview, but at a meeting in May, Alex Norring, assistant secretary for legislative affairs, said the unique staffing needs of state prisons would make it difficult to comply. For example, guards would need to be relieved by additional personnel to get their cooldown breaks.

“The biggest challenge is the direct fiscal impact because staff provide guarding for the incarcerated population, and we need to ensure that there is appropriate staffing in order to cover that and comply with providing the relief,” Norring said.

The also warned that establishing cooldown areas at some juvenile halls “may require system redesign, supplemental cooling equipment, and portable AC units which come with security risks.”

Unclear Costs

The state’s cost estimates to cool state prisons have varied widely since the worker safety board received its first assessment in 2023 and the price tag hovered at about $900,000 in the first year and less than $500,000 each year after. A year later, the sticker price skyrocketed to “billions of dollars” after the state Department of Finance said it had received revised estimates from the corrections department.

The state has provided few details and little clarity since. The Department of Finance and CDCR have denied Capital & Main’s requests for the details of the cost estimate under the California Public Records Act.

Labor unions and safety advocates, meanwhile, say workers in California prisons have waited too long for protections — while the state further defers the costs. 

“You’re leaving a very important population uncovered. That’s very unjust. There’s no argument for that,” said Laura Stock, from the Occupational Safety & Health Standards Board after she publicly criticized his administration for delaying protections to prison workers.

This article was produced in collaboration with Capital & Main, ​​an independent, California-based nonprofit investigative news publication that reports on inequality, climate change, and other issues.

This article first appeared on 51ÊÓƵ Health News and is republished here under a .

Céline Gounder, 51ÊÓƵ Health News’ editor-at-large for public health, discussed how children’s caffeine consumption is affecting their health on CBS News’ CBS Mornings on July 30.

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51ÊÓƵ Health News senior correspondent Arthur Allen discussed the recent Anthony Fauci Senate hearing on CBS News 24/7 on July 29.

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51ÊÓƵ Health News chief Washington correspondent Julie Rovner discussed the Fauci hearing on WBUR’s Here & Now on July 29. Rovner also discussed exceptional Affordable Care Act enrollment in New Mexico on KJZZ’s The Show on July 29.

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51ÊÓƵ Health News national public health correspondent Amy Maxmen discussed the FDA potentially easing restrictions on peptide drugs on CBS News 24/7 on July 24.

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51ÊÓƵ Health News Georgia correspondentÌýBriah Lumpkins discussed the local impact of the loss of Environmental Protection Agency grant money on WUGA’s The Georgia Health Report on July 24.

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• Read Lumpkins’ “Public Health Improvements Stall Amid Trump’s DEI Crackdown.”

51ÊÓƵ Health News HawaiÊ»i correspondent Ashley Mizuo discussed the challenge of finding placement for prisoners after their compassionate release from detention on HawaiÊ»i Public Radio’s The Conversation on July 22.

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• Read Mizuo’s “Severely Ill Prisoners Granted Early Release Are Left Stuck Behind Bars.”

This article first appeared on 51ÊÓƵ Health News and is republished here under a .

In February, Hawai‘i’s parole board granted the now-52-year-old compassionate release, which allows prisoners to receive early probation to seek .

But without a long-term care facility willing to accept him, Alameda has not been able to leave.

As of June, at least three other prisoners granted release to tend to their medical needs were living indefinitely in the infirmary after long-term care facilities were unwilling to accept them, primarily because of their criminal backgrounds, the state parole authority said.

“This is a challenge across the country,” said Molly Crane, an attorney for FAMM, which advocates for .

Every state allows for prisoners, though HawaiÊ»i is the only one without a specific law, relying instead on an internal policy. The prisoners who typically qualify for compassionate release can’t care for themselves or have terminal illnesses and may need an assisted living center, a nursing home, or hospice.

But many long-term care facilities nationwide decline to take such prisoners, leaving them incarcerated for months — or years — after they were granted release.

In , a study found that rejections from nursing homes soared after they were told that a patient was coming from prison. , prisoners with extensive medical needs stayed an average of 200 days after being granted parole, because of denials from long-term care centers. And in , prisoners granted parole sued the state when they couldn’t get placed in nursing homes.

President Donald Trump’s signature One Big Beautiful Bill Act further strains long-term care providers’ ability to take people from incarceration. Prisoners don’t qualify for Medicaid, so parolees after they’re granted the release. The law, enacted last summer, reduces the window in which facilities can get reimbursed from three months to before they apply. That means facilities risk not getting paid for new Medicaid patients whose applications are not submitted within the reduced timeframe.

The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services “encourages providers and beneficiaries to prioritize timely application submission to maximize coverage,” CMS spokesperson Timothy Foster said.

‘Risk Is Just Too High’

Most nursing homes nationwide already have a waiting list for new residents, according to a by the American Health Care Association and the National Center for Assisted Living. Those waitlists are another hurdle to getting prisoners placed, said Bob Merce, a former attorney who advocates for prisoners’ compassionate release.

“We tell the nursing homes that most of the people who we are talking about cannot hurt somebody,” Merce said.

Some of the prisoners staying at the Halawa infirmary in June couldn’t walk or dress themselves. One man couldn’t recall what his illness was. Another with brain cancer couldn’t coherently respond to questions.

Sean Sanada, the OÊ»ahu Region CEO with the HawaiÊ»i Health Systems Corp., oversees the region’s two state-funded long-term care facilities, Leahi Hospital and Maluhia. Sanada said that the health system has reviewed dozens of compassionate release referrals but has never accepted any of them.

Sanada said the facilities don’t discriminate based on where the resident comes from. His main concerns, he said, were his staff’s safety and the lack of resources to adequately care for the patient.

“The risk is just too high in most of those instances,” Sanada said.

Violent incidents in long-term care facilities have been well documented. A observing 14 assisted living facilities found that in just one month, 15% of residents experienced resident-to-resident aggression.

When long-term care facilities refuse to accept prisoners who have been granted compassionate release, it leaves state taxpayers footing a larger bill. The annual cost to incarcerate an individual in Hawai‘i with complex needs is up to eight times the $112,505 average of housing one person in prison, according to FAMM. In comparison, the average Medicaid reimbursement for a long-term care patient at a Hawaiʻi Health Systems Corp. facility is about .

Four states — Connecticut, Georgia, Massachusetts, and Vermont — contract with nursing facilities to take prisoners who are granted compassionate release, according to FAMM.

The iCare Health Network’s MissionCare Health, which operates nursing homes for people coming out of prison, secured contracts in three of those states. David Skoczulek, iCare’s vice president of business development and communication, estimated that its rates are $100 to $350 a day more per patient than the average nursing home rates in the states where they operate.

In Hawaiʻi, the correctional department determines recommendations to send to the parole board, which decides whether to grant the release. Prisoners who are granted the early probation can be released to family members who commit to caring for them or to a long-term care facility.

Corey Reincke, head of the HawaiÊ»i Paroling Authority, said that in his 24-year career he couldn’t recall getting anyone placed into a long-term care facility without family intervening, for instance by contacting facilities themselves.

“Parole has to find a facility that can meet their medical needs and is also willing to take them,” Reincke said. “That’s where we’re hitting the roadblocks.”

For one parolee, Reincke called more than 100 care homes, he said, but they all declined to accept the patient, over safety concerns. According to a 2024 state report, while HawaiÊ»i’s long-term care facilities use about workforce strains make it difficult to maintain even those levels.

HawaiÊ»i Prisoners’ Refuge: Family

Last year, 69-year-old Paul Kupihea died at a hospital five days after the state granted him compassionate release to his family. He died before he could get on a flight to his home island.

In July 2025, Lahela Kruse, the mother of Kupihea’s child, received a call from a Honolulu hospital informing her that his condition had become severe. By then he had been diagnosed with an incurable form of cancer and had been in and out of the hospital while still in custody.

Kruse and their daughter flew to Oʻahu to see him and were shocked when they saw how sick he was. Their daughter agreed to take him into her home in Hilo, on Hawaiʻi Island, despite not having a relationship with him for most of her life.

“She knew he was sick,” Kruse said. “I told her that, but she didn’t know the severity of it. I didn’t truly know.”

Her daughter’s willingness to take him prompted his compassionate release. But Kruse said the notification about Kupihea’s illness came too late.

FAMM’s Crane has been working on expanding compassionate release laws in states to allow for more prisoners to qualify and strengthen transparency in the process. HawaiÊ»i lawmakers have tried for years to pass bills on compassionate release, but none has succeeded.

Crane said without a law that outlines a formal process and who qualifies, even family support isn’t enough. Prisoners can still face life-threatening delays, she said.

“The absence of a compassionate release statute means that people who need compassionate release languish and even die in prison,” Crane said.

In Alameda’s cell, two beds stood about 3 feet apart, with a seatless metal toilet in the corner and a window looking out on a concrete wall. The smell of bleach permeated the room. Alameda said he hoped to see his daughter soon. She recently turned 5.

“I made some mistakes in my life,” said Alameda, who has been incarcerated since 2024 for drug possession, driving a stolen vehicle, and jumping bail. “I tried when my daughter was born, but I know I’ll change, because she needs me out of here.”

Merce, the former attorney, is still trying to find a place for Alameda, who committed no violent crimes. Merce became aware of prisoners’ struggles through his work as a trial lawyer. He said he has helped about 15 prisoners leave HawaiÊ»i correctional facilities for medical treatment.

He said he’s seen cases in which people have waited years to get out.

“The ones that stick with me, though,” Merce said, “are the ones that I never found placements for.”

This article first appeared on 51ÊÓƵ Health News and is republished here under a .

A podcast producer and director emeritus of WOUB Public Media zeroed in on our article about restless doctors, sharing his thoughts on X:

This must be Trump and Kennedy’s idiotic plan to make American Healthy Again…

— Tom Hodson (@thodson)

— Tom Hodson, Athens, Ohio

Oh, Canada Welcomes American Doctors!

The article “American Doctors Are Moving to Canada To Escape the Trump Administration” (May 30) presents us Canadians with welcome news. In every part of Canada, in every province, there are not enough doctors. In our city of Victoria, for instance, many people do not have a family doctor because so many doctors have retired; those who are left are unable to take new patients because their lists are full. Walk-in clinics are overbooked, the emergency rooms at the hospitals all have overfull waiting rooms and doctors and nurses are doing 12-hour or longer shifts. We need doctors and will welcome American doctors here with wide-open arms.

There are many aspects of Canada’s health system that could help lure American doctors to join us. The mortality rate for infants and mothers in the USA is worse than in Cuba. Ours is much better. We do not have a director of national health preaching against the use of vaccination. Our national record for health care during the covid pandemic emergency was second to none. Our women’s clinics are not plagued by political ideology. Our society has always been more open than that of the USA to immigrants and others of all races.

Doctors who agree to work for the armed forces receive special benefits. The experience is known to be valuable and rewarding.

I would also recommend Quebec as a great place to live and work. This would present a valuable opportunity for doctors and their families to learn French. France has a wonderful health service and would be a great place for family members to study and work. Germany is also a great place for medicine and health care. An added plus, besides learning the German language, is that the medical schools and universities, once they accept students, including foreigners, do not charge tuition. No post-graduation debt in Germany. That has proved to be a great policy for Germany. It attracts brainy students from all over the world and ensures the continuing high level of the German health system.

American doctors, Canada is an excellent option for escaping from the threat of autocracy. It can be a very positive step to leave the USA after realizing that the world is open to you and your family. Canada fits Americans comfortably. As our Prime Minister Mark Carney told President Donald Trump in his Oval Office, “Canada will never, never, never be your 51st state.” So, American doctors, pack your luggage, come on over and join us. We will welcome you very warmly and help you in every way we can!

— Philip Maxwell, Victoria, British Columbia

A Seattle reader delivered a diagnosis on X:

So I guess this article and the Dr. Interviewed are far left progressive. The US is better off without them.

— Daniel Arroyo (@danielarrmaga)

— Daniel Arroyo, Seattle

Tellin’ It Like It Is, Baby

The article “The New Old Age: Honey, Sweetie, Dearie: The Perils of Elderspeak” (May 9), hit home for me.

Several years ago, my health plan referred me to an ophthalmologist’s practice. After one appointment, the woman who was supposed to schedule me for my next one called me “Sweetie.” I don’t remember what I said, but I took umbrage and walked out.

There were other problems (the doctor who examined me didn’t introduce himself, for one thing). I went home and wrote a complaint letter to my health plan. They gave me another referral and reported the practice to Medicare.

I only wish I had read this article a month ago. I had a biopsy in a hospital last month, and one of the nurses spoke to me as if I were a 2-year-old. I would have been prepared to deal with this then.

— Sue Kamm, Los Angeles

The director of the Pitt Band at the University of Pittsburgh threw down the gauntlet on X:

Any who addresses me with “Elderspeak” will be dealt with harshly. You’ve been warned.

— Harry Bloomberg (@pittbandphoto)

— Harry Bloomberg, Pittsburgh

Don’t Gamble With Children’s Lives

Concerning Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s recommendation that healthy children needn’t receive the covid vaccine (“Trump’s Team Cited Safety in Limiting Covid Shots. Patients, Health Advocates See More Risk,” May 23), have pre-vaccine complications such as multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children been forgotten? A western lost both hands and both feet to MIS-C and will go through life with prostheses. Please remind people of these serious complications which, though infrequent, cannot be reversed. Not vaccinating is playing Russian roulette with your child!

— Gloria Kohut, Grand Rapids, Michigan

An upbraiding on X came from a reader Down Under:

This decision – apparently made without any expert consultation – will have international ramifications, especially among the vaccine sceptical.

— Lesley Russell Wolpe (@LRussellWolpe)

— Lesley Russell Wolpe, Sydney, Australia

Core to California’s Prosperity: The Fruits of Immigrant Labor

I found your article to be incomplete when it comes to offering the perspective of undocumented immigrants (“After Promising Universal Health Care, California Governor Must Reconsider Immigrant Coverage,” May 13). According to the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy, undocumented immigrants to the California economy. It is disingenuous to present the cost of medical expansion to undocumented immigrants as a type of handout, when it is widely known that undocumented immigrants work without any prospect of receiving the benefits of their work in social programs. The fact that Gov. Gavin Newsom made the effort to expand benefits to undocumented workers was the right thing to do, and we should work toward rearranging funding to continue the expansion and not retrench during a time when unidentified people are apprehending undocumented workers on their way to work and more than ever face the possibility of suffering human rights abuses. If you, as a news organization, don’t do them justice by inserting their contributions into the discussion, then you are being complacent to their dehumanization.

I grew up in Oxnard, California, and my entire life was surrounded by the fruits of farmworkers’ labor, many of whom were undocumented. If you drive up and down Rice Road at 5 a.m. every day, you will see hard-working people who, during the wintertime, have to stay during the night to warm up the crops. That type of love and dedication to their work — not for their benefit, but for their families and the state of California — should be recognized. I invite your readers to look for “” by Seth Holmes to start understanding the physical toll that working in the fields takes on young immigrants, even when they arrive as healthy bodies. Still, after years of working in the fields, they face a multitude of health problems and overall physical deterioration. They give their bodies in exchange for an American dream that may or may not materialize.

Undocumented farmworkers fill just one essential sector of the American labor economy that does not stop even during fires or pandemics, so please do better in highlighting the humanity of folks who are more than just the work they produce. It is essential to state that if it weren’t for their cheap labor, the Golden State would not be so golden. Look at Florida, where the criminalization of undocumented workers is leading to labor shortages now intended to be filled by children.

Health care is a minimum that can be provided for undocumented workers, not because of any other reason than health care is a human right, and undocumented workers pay their fair share in unclaimed social benefits. Health care for all!

— Jennifer Diana Figueroa, Oxnard, California

A sociologist who directs social policy at the Niskanen Center, a nonpartisan think tank, weighed in on X:

No matter what advocates told themselves and policymakers, it was never politically sustainable:

“It’s making people look at the health care that they can’t afford and ask, ‘Why the hell are we giving it for free to people who are here illegally?’”

— Josh McCabe (@JoshuaTMcCabe)

— Josh McCabe, Lowell, Massachusetts

Improving a Prisoner’s Life Sentence

I was very impressed with “Prisons Routinely Ignore Guidelines on Dying Inmates’ End-of-Life Choices” (May 15), authored by Renuka Rayasam. I have visited prison twice: once to San Quentin as a member of the Berkeley YMCA wrestling team in 1963.

Then, in 1999, I was privileged to be appointed to a new American Hospital Association committee, the Circle of Life Awards Committee, which was created to recognize the most outstanding and innovative hospice and palliative care programs in the country. Among the many applicants in the first year was the Louisiana State Penitentiary Hospice, and it was selected as one of five finalists for a site visit in 2000. I indicated my interest in being a member of the site visit team. This prison, commonly known as Angola, is the nation’s largest maximum-security facility, and we were told prisoners sentenced to life will die there because there was no parole in Louisiana for such a sentence. We were also informed that there was a long waiting list of inmates wanting to be hospice volunteers because the program was so highly valued.

My most distinct memory of our visit was a conversation with a volunteer who said he had just come from bathing and feeding a terminally ill inmate who said, “I love you.” The volunteer was visibly emotional when noting he had never heard these words before, not from his father whom he never met nor even his mother. These comments clearly demonstrated the beneficiaries of the program were not just the patients; they were also the volunteers.

— Paul B. Hofmann, Moraga, California

On X, another reader from Australia dove into a discussion about fluoridation of drinking water in response to our coverage:

RFK making tooth decay great again

— Dan Jago (@dj1au)

— Dan Jago, Melbourne, Australia

How Fluoride May Hijack Thyroid Health

Stories about fluoride seem not to mention the chemical’s impact on thyroid health (“With Few Dentists and Fluoride Under Siege, Rural America Risks New Surge of Tooth Decay,” March 27). This seems an oversight because it’s estimated that 10%-20% of the population will have thyroid issues in their lifetimes.

When I was an unmedicated hypothyroid person — not taking any supplemental thyroid hormone — I frequently had cavities. After filling the cavity, my dentist would do me the favor of treating my teeth with fluoride. And then followed a period of lassitude so severe I felt my job was at stake, definitely placing me in the “fat and lazy” category, as described by Ozark Mountain Regional Public Water Authority Chairman Andy Anderson in your article. It took me several treatments to make the connection.

I don’t get cavities now and haven’t for about 20 years. I think my now-appropriate dosage of supplemental thyroid plays a role in that.

Studies about thyroid and fluoride vary in their conclusions. Thyroid deficiencies can have widely varied effects on our widely varied population. There may never be widely accepted guidelines. But people should be careful about what they put in their bodies.

— Joy Mullett, Houston

A self-described information technology health care entrepreneur stated his opinion simply while sharing the article on X:

FLOURIDE is poison! Daily Health Policy Report&utm_medium=email&_hsenc=p2ANqtz–TOtkdDDnhvAyd8nDZIAFejJobpsKBnLP5smKnlslyZjSC6tT9BHFfvtjE8tnngMhNn7huZCl4MKi1CdAi0QtZkvWmew&_hsmi=353879828&utm_content=353879828&utm_source=hs_email

— Earl Winter (@EarlWinter8)

— Earl Winter, Nashville, Tennessee

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The funds come from nearly $200 million in federal fines imposed because of California’s lack of progress in hiring sufficient mental health staff. They are being used for hiring and retention bonuses, including an extra $20,000 for psychologists and psychiatric social workers — roles with the highest vacancy rates — and $5,000 boosts for psychiatrists and recreational therapists.

“I think it’s important to point out that this is the money that the state saved by not hiring people for these positions,” said Michael Bien, an attorney representing the roughly one-third of California prisoners with serious mental illness in a class action lawsuit. “And we know that not hiring caused suffering, harm, and even death.”

The cash is aimed at countering a scarcity of mental health workers and . State officials blame this dearth of workers for their chronic inability to meet hiring levels required by the long-running suit — a failure that led a federal judge to hold top officials in contempt of court last year. The funds are being distributed after an appeals court in March, saying staffing shortages affect whether prisoners have access to “essential, even lifesaving, care.” The spending plan was jointly developed by attorneys representing prisoners and state officials.

Janet Coffman, a professor at the University of California-San Francisco Institute for Health Policy Studies, said planned improvements in working conditions should help with hiring, but she was skeptical of the impact of bonuses.

“What I don’t see is the sustained increases, the increases in salaries over the long term, which is what I think is probably more effective for retention than one-time bonuses,” Coffman said.

The state did not take that view. Its expert witness, labor economist Erica Greulich, testifying during the 2023 trial that led to the fines, said that higher salaries were unlikely to meaningfully increase hiring.

Facing a $12 billion deficit, Gov. Gavin Newsom in May proposed across state government that would “make it extremely difficult to fill chronically vacant mental health positions,” said Abdul Johnson, chief negotiator for the bargaining unit representing health and social service professionals in prisons and other agencies. He said he believes California should add longevity pay to retain veteran workers and pay more in areas with higher costs of living.

On the face of it, the salaries for mental health positions at California prisons are competitive with the private sector’s. For example, the range for is $133,932 to $162,372, while the in California ranged from $117,630 to $137,540 last year. The most recent state contract with prison psychiatrists already includes , on top of other sweeteners, with a state salary range topping $360,000, nearly $34,000 above the California mean salary.

But California prisons are competing for behavioral health workers amid a roughly 40% shortage of psychologists and psychiatrists in the state, and that shortfall is expected . For more than a year before the court’s contempt ruling, the vacancy rate for psychologists never fell below 35% — the state is currently recruiting for nearly 300 such positions — while vacancies among social workers ranged from 17% to 29%.  The court ruling said the state oversaw “adequate” staffing for psychiatrists and recreation therapists but only periodically succeeded in reducing the vacancy rate below the 10% maximum allowed. Officials are in the process of adding several new positions that are eligible for the bonuses.

Further complicating the hiring push is that other organizations recruiting these professionals can offer more competitive packages, which can include signing bonuses and other perks, according to testimony during the 2023 trial.

The state is also adopting a new hybrid work policy that allows mental health staff to spend part of their time working remotely. The policy will let the state better compete with the private sector, particularly in the remote areas where many prisons are located, Coffman said.

Money from the fines will also go to improving a working environment that the appellate decision said “often took the form of windowless converted cells in old and unheated prisons.” One-time payments ranging from $50,000 to $300,000 are going to various prison mental health programs for things like new furniture and improvements to treatment and office spaces.

“Working in a prison is difficult and dangerous work,” Johnson said. “Our members constantly face threats, physical assaults, and extremely high caseloads.”

Angela Reinhold, a supervising psychiatric social worker at the California Correctional Institution in Tehachapi, said during the 2023 hearings that her office was in a closet, featuring furniture from “1970s at best.”

She compared her situation with that of a co-worker who had recently left for a safer, higher-paying job in the private sector.

“She’s very excited that she gets a bathroom with two-ply toilet paper, not to mention the other office equipment that’s state-of-the-art, and treatment space, and an office that has a view,” Reinhold said. “She’s not risking her safety with her patients, and she gets to telework three times a week.”

Alexandra David, chief of mental health at the California Medical Facility in Vacaville, described working in buildings without adequate heating or cooling, with leaky ceilings and flooded clinical offices.

“You know, it’s an old prison. There are smells and sometimes rodents,” David said during the same hearings.

The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation did not respond to requests for comment on the spending plan.

In what Bien characterized as a bid to avoid ill will, all prison mental health workers will benefit from the new expenditures, with current employees and new hires each receiving one-time $10,000 bonuses. All corrections department employees, not just mental health workers, are also eligible for $5,000 bonuses for referrals leading to new hires in understaffed areas. The state estimates that the bonuses will cost about $44 million, although the projection does not include the referral bonuses or bonuses paid to new employees hired during the year.

Future bonuses and other incentives are likely to depend on recommendations from a court-appointed receiver who is developing a long-term plan to bring the prison mental health system up to constitutional standards.

“We do think they have to do better with money, but money alone is not the answer here,” Bien said. “And so that’s why we’re trying to do these working-conditions things, as well as bonuses.”

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It was September 2023, and Rigsby, 46, had been brought to Jackson Hospital from an Alabama state prison 10 days earlier after complaining of pain and swelling in his abdomen. Doctors found that untreated hepatitis C had caused irreversible damage to Rigsby’s liver, according to his medical records.

Rigsby decided to stop efforts to treat his illness and to decline lifesaving care, a decision he made with his parents. And Rigsby’s mother, Pamela Moser, tried to get her son released to hospice care through Alabama’s medical furlough policy, so that their family could manage his end-of-life care as they saw fit.

But there wasn’t enough time for the furlough request to be considered.

After learning that Rigsby was on palliative care, the staff at YesCare, a private prison health company that has a $1 billion contract with the Alabama Department of Corrections, told the hospital it would stop paying for his stay and then transferred him back to Staton Correctional Facility in Elmore, according to the hospital record his mom provided to 51ÊÓƵ Health News.

Moser never saw or spoke to her son again.

“The last day I went to see him in the hospital, I was hoping he would take his last breath,” said Moser, a former hospice nurse. “That is how bad I didn’t want him to go to the infirmary” at the prison.

A week later, Rigsby died of liver failure in the infirmary, according to his autopsy report.

Officials at the corrections department and YesCare did not respond to requests for comment.

As the country’s , thousands die behind bars each year. For some researchers, medical providers, and families of terminally ill people in custody, Rigsby’s situation — and Moser’s frustration — are familiar: Incarcerated people typically have little say over the care they receive at the end of their lives.

That’s despite a broad consensus among standards boards, policymakers, and health care providers that terminally ill people in custody should receive treatment that minimizes suffering and allows them to be actively involved in care planning.

But such guidelines aren’t binding. State policies on end-of-life care vary widely, and they generally give much leeway to correctional officers, according to a . The result is that correctional officers and medical contractors make the decisions, and they focus more on security concerns than easing the emotional, spiritual, and physical pain of the dying, say researchers and families.

People in jails and prisons often die while shackled to beds, separated from loved ones, and with minimal pain medication, said Nicole Mushero, a geriatrician at Boston University’s Chobanian & Avedisian School of Medicine who studies and works with incarcerated patients.

“When you’re coming at this from a health care perspective, it’s kind of shocking,” Mushero said.

Security vs. Autonomy

Patients are often suspended or dropped from their health coverage, including commercial insurance or Medicaid, when incarcerated. Jails and prisons have their own systems for providing health care, often funded by state and local budgets, and therefore aren’t subject to the same oversight as other public or private systems.

The , which accredits programs at correctional facilities across the country, says terminally ill people in custody should be allowed to make decisions about treatment options, such as whether to accept life-sustaining care, and appoint a person who can make medical decisions for them.

Jails and prisons should also provide patients with pain medication that wouldn’t otherwise be available to them, allow extra visits with loved ones, and consider them for medical release programs that let them receive hospice care in their communities, said Amy Panagopoulos, vice president of accreditation at the commission. That approach is often at odds with security and safety rules of jails and prisons, so facility leaders may be heavily involved in care decisions, she said.

As a result, the commission plans to release updated standards this summer to provide more details on how facilities should handle end-of-life care to ensure incarcerated patients are more involved in the process.

State laws on medical decision-making, informed consent, and patient privacy apply even to incarcerated patients, said Gregory Dober, who teaches biomedical ethics and is a prison monitor with the Pennsylvania Prison Society, a nonprofit that supports incarcerated patients and their families.

But correctional officers and their medical contractors often prioritize security instead, Dober said.

The Federal Bureau of Prisons allows guards to override do-not-resuscitate orders if they interfere with the security and orderly operation of the institution, according to the .

“This is a wildly understudied area,” said Ben Parks, who teaches medical ethics at Mercy College of Ohio. “In the end, it’s all about the state control of a prisoner’s life.”

About a third of all people who died in federal custody between 2004 and 2022 had a do-not-resuscitate order, according to Bureau of Prisons data obtained by 51ÊÓƵ Health News through a Freedom of Information Act request.

The prison bureau’s policy of forcing CPR on patients is cruel, Parks said. CPR can , with . That is why people sign do-not-resuscitate orders refusing the treatment, he said.

“This is the inversion of the death penalty,” Parks said. “Resuscitation against your will.”

Cut Off From Family

In addition, corrections officials decide whether and when to reach out to a patient’s friends or relatives, said Erin Kitt-Lewis, a Penn State College of Nursing associate research professor who has studied the care of older adults in prisons. As a result, terminally ill people in custody often can’t involve their families in end-of-life care decisions.

That was the case for Adam Spurgeon, who was incarcerated in a state prison in Tennessee, his mother said. One morning in November 2018, Kathy Spurgeon got a call from hospital officials in Nashville saying her son had only hours to live, she said.

About a month earlier, she had learned from her son that he had had heart surgery and developed an infection, she said. But she didn’t know much about his treatment.

Around noon, she arrived at the hospital, about a three-hour drive west of where she lives. Adam, 32, died that evening.

Dorinda Carter, communications director at the Tennessee Department of Correction, declined to comment on Spurgeon’s case. “It is our policy to not comment on an individual inmate’s medical care,” she said in an email.

Kathy Spurgeon said providers who treated Adam outside of prison were too deferential to guards.

And physicians who work with incarcerated patients say that can be the case: Even when terminally ill people in custody are treated at hospitals, correctional officers still end up dictating the terms of care.

Hospital staff members often don’t understand the rights of incarcerated patients and are unsure about state laws and hospital policies, said Pria Anand, a neurologist who has treated incarcerated patients in hospitals. “The biggest problem is uncertainty,” she said.

Correctional officers sometimes tell hospital staffers they can’t contact next of kin for security reasons, or they won’t tell a patient about discharge plans because of worries they might escape, Anand said.

And care frequently takes place within prisons, which often are not equipped to handle the complexities of hospice decision-making, including types of treatment, when to stop treatment, and who can make those decisions, said Laura Musselman, director of communications at the Humane Prison Hospice Project, which provides training and education to improve end-of-life care for incarcerated patients.

“Our prison system was not designed to provide care for anyone, especially not people who are chronically ill, terminally ill, older, actively dying,” said Musselman, who noted that her group’s training has 15 modules to cover all aspects of end-of-life care, including grief support, hands-on caregiving, and paperwork.

Rigsby struggled with mental health and addiction for most of his adult life, including a stint in prison for a drug-related robbery. A parole violation in 2018 landed him back in prison.

At Jackson Hospital, Rigsby was given hydromorphone, a powerful pain medication, as well as the anxiety drug lorazepam. Before he was transferred back to prison, a nurse with YesCare — one of the country’s biggest prison health care providers, which has been sued over substandard care —assured hospital staffers he would be provided with the same level of pain medication and oxygen he had received at the hospital, his medical records show.

But Moser said she doesn’t know whether he spent his last days in pain or peace. The state wouldn’t provide Moser with Rigsby’s medical records from the prison, she said. She said she wasn’t allowed to visit her son in the infirmary — and wasn’t told why.

Moser called the infirmary to comfort her son before his death, but staffers told her he couldn’t make it to the phone and they couldn’t take one to him, she said.

Instead, Moser said, she left messages for prison officials to tell her son she loved him.

“It breaks my heart that he could not talk with his mother during his last days,” said Moser, whose son died on Oct. 4, 2023.

Two weeks later, she drove to Woodstock, Alabama, to collect his remains from a crematorium.

51ÊÓƵ Health News data editor Holly K. Hacker contributed to this report.

This article first appeared on 51ÊÓƵ Health News and is republished here under a .

The unilateral termination is drawing protests from attorneys representing prisoners and the author of the state’s medical parole legislation, who say it unnecessarily puts this vulnerable population at risk. The move is the latest wrinkle in a long-running drive to free those deemed so ill that they are no longer a danger to society.

“We have concerns that they cannot meet the needs of the population for things like memory care, dementia, traumatic brain injury,” said Sara Norman, an attorney who represents the prisoners as part of a nearly three-decade-old federal . “These are not people who are in full command and control of their own surroundings, their memories — they’re helpless.”

Caring for a prison population is a growing problem across the United States. It is twice as expensive to imprison older people than those younger, according to , and prisoners 55 and older are more than twice as likely to have cognitive difficulties as non-incarcerated older adults.

Medical parole is reserved for the sliver of California’s 90,000 prisoners who have a “significant and permanent condition” that leaves them “physically or cognitively debilitated or incapacitated” to the point they can’t care for themselves, . Prisoners who qualify — excluded are those sentenced to death or life without parole — can be placed in a community health care facility instead of state prison.

Attorneys said the roughly 20 parolees the state has returned to lockup need significant help performing basic functions of daily life, with some in wheelchairs or suffering from debilitating mental or physical disabilities. They say outside facilities have the capacity to provide more compassionate and humane care to very ill prisoners.

Kyle Buis, a California Correctional Health Care Services spokesperson, characterized the program as “on pause” as patients return to in-prison facilities and as officials anticipate increasing their use of the compassionate release program. Prisoners granted compassionate release have their sentences reduced and are released into society, while those on medical parole remain technically in custody.

“There were multiple considerations that went into this decision,” Buis said. “Our growing ability to support those with cognitive impairment inside of our facilities was one factor.” Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom also cited “eliminating non-essential activities and contracts” to save money.

While now has a medical parole law, they are , according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. One common reason is eligibility. Texas, for instance, screened more than 2,600 prisoners in 2022 but approved just 58 people. Officials also often face procedural hurdles, according to the Vera Institute of Justice, a national nonprofit research and advocacy group.

Some states, however, have tried to expand medical parole programs. because an earlier version of the law proved too difficult to use, resulting in the release of just one person. New York has some of the nation’s for release but is among states struggling to find for parolees.

California’s first effort to free prisoners deemed so incapacitated that they are no longer dangerous began in 1997 with a little-used process that allowed corrections officials to seek the release of dying prisoners. But that program resulted in the release of just two prisoners in 2009. The medical parole program was officially created by a that took effect in 2011 and was expanded in 2014 to help reduce prison crowding so severe that federal judges ruled it was harming prisoners’ physical and mental health.

Nearly 300 prisoners had been granted medical parole since July 2014, . The average annual cost per medical parolee was between about $250,000 and $300,000 in 2023, Buis said. And despite when they started the program, he said, Medi-Cal — California’s Medicaid program, which is partly funded by the federal government — did not reimburse the state for their care because they were still considered incarcerated.

California has had a with its sole nursing home contractor for medical parolees. The state ended its contract with in Sylmar at the end of 2024, Newsom reported in January .

In 2021, prison officials said they were sending dozens of paralyzed and otherwise disabled prisoners back to state prisons and , blaming a federal rule change that barred any restrictions on prisoners in such facilities. The move came after state public health inspectors fined Golden Legacy for to the bed in violation of state and federal laws.

Golden Legacy did not return repeated telephone and email requests for comment. Buis said state officials “continuously monitored care at Golden Legacy, and we never had concern for the quality of care provided.”

Attorney Rana Anabtawi, who also represents prisoners in the class-action suit, toured Golden Legacy’s medical parole building with Norman in November and saw caregivers offering memory care patients special art classes and a “happy feet” dance party.

She felt it “was a much better place for our patients than being in prison — there appeared to be regular programming aimed at engaging them, there were no officers walking around, the patient doors were open and unlocked, patients had general freedom of movement within their building.”

Over the past several years, the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation has built up its capacity to service those with severely compromised health. The state created two of its own memory care units in men’s prisons, a 30-bed unit in the California Health Care Facility in Stockton in 2019 and a 35-bed unit in the California Medical Facility in Vacaville in 2023. The Central California Women’s Facility in Chowchilla provides up to 24-hour skilled nursing care for women with life-limiting illnesses including dementia.

Yet Norman fears the in-prison facilities are a poor substitute.

“They’re nowhere near enough and they are inside prisons, so there’s a limit to how compassionate and humane they can be,” she said.

In addition to the 20 returned to state prisons when the contract expired, Buis said, one was paroled through the standard process, while 36 were recommended for compassionate release. Of those, 26 were granted compassionate release, eight were denied, and two died before they could be considered.

The use of compassionate release increased under passed in 2022 that , including by adding dementia patients. , 87 prisoners received compassionate release. By contrast, during the six years before the new law, just 53 were freed. Officials expect about 100 prisoners each year will qualify for compassionate release, Buis said.

Compassionate release would allow them to “sort of die with dignity,” said Daniel Landsman, vice president of policy for the criminal justice advocacy group FAMM, previously known as , and ensure “that the California prison system is not turning into a de facto hospice or skilled nursing facility.”

Mark Leno, who authored California’s medical parole law when he was a Democratic state senator, criticized prison officials for ending their use of the law without legislative approval and instead just terminating the Golden Legacy contract. He also railed against returning very ill patients to prisons, a decision he called “perfectly inhumane.”

“Is it just cruel punishment and retribution or is this thoughtful execution of the law put in place by the legislature?” he said.

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Senior U.S. District Judge Kimberly Mueller issued her order March 19, identifying Colette Peters as the nominated receiver. Peters, who was Oregon’s and , ran the for 30 months until President Donald Trump took office in January. During her tenure, she in Dublin, east of Oakland, that had become known as the “rape club.”

Michael Bien, who represents prisoners with mental illness in the long-running prison lawsuit, said Peters is a good choice. Bien said Peters’ time in Oregon and Washington, D.C., showed that she “kind of buys into the fact that there are things we can do better in the American system.”

“We took strong objection to many things that happened under her tenure at the BOP, but I do think that this is a different job and she’s capable of doing it,” said Bien, whose firm women who were housed at the shuttered federal women’s prison.

California corrections officials called Peters “highly qualified” in a statement, while Gov. Gavin Newsom’s office did not immediately comment. Mueller gave the parties until March 28 to show cause why Peters should not be appointed.

Peters is not talking to the media at this time, Bien said. The judge said Peters is to be paid $400,000 a year, prorated for the four-month period.

About 34,000 people incarcerated in California prisons have been diagnosed with serious mental illnesses, representing more than a third of California’s prison population, who face harm because of the state’s noncompliance, Mueller said.

Appointing a receiver is a rare step taken when federal judges feel they have exhausted other options. A receiver took control of , and they have otherwise been used to govern prisons and jails only , mostly to combat poor conditions caused by overcrowding. Attorneys representing inmates have asked a judge to take over prison health care there.

Mueller’s appointment of a receiver comes nearly 20 years after a different federal judge of California’s prison medical system and installed a receiver, currently J. Clark Kelso, with broad powers to hire, fire, and spend the state’s money.

California officials initially said in August that they would not oppose a receivership for the mental health program provided that the receiver was also Kelso, saying then that federal control “has successfully transformed medical care” in California prisons. But Kelso withdrew from consideration in September, as did two subsequent candidates. Kelso said he could not act “zealously and with fidelity as receiver in both cases.”

Both cases have been running for so long that they are now overseen by a second generation of judges. The original federal judges, in a legal battle that reached the U.S. Supreme Court, more than a decade ago forced California to significantly in a bid to improve medical and mental health care for incarcerated people.

State officials in court filings defended their improvements over the decades. Prisoners’ attorneys countered that treatment remains poor, as evidenced in part by the system’s record-high suicide rate, topping 31 suicides per 100,000 prisoners, nearly double that in federal prisons.

“More than a quarter of the 30 class-members who died by suicide in 2023 received inadequate care because of understaffing,” prisoners’ attorneys wrote in January, citing the prison system’s own analysis. One prisoner did not receive mental health appointments for seven months “before he hanged himself with a bedsheet.”

They argued that the November passage of a ballot measure increasing criminal penalties for some drug and theft crimes is likely to increase the prison population and worsen staffing shortages.

California officials argued in January that Mueller isn’t legally justified in appointing a receiver because “progress has been slow at times but it has not stalled.”

Mueller has countered that she had no choice but to appoint an outside professional to run the prisons’ mental health program, given officials’ intransigence even after she held top officials in and levied fines topping $110 million in June. Those extreme actions, she said, only triggered more delays.

The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals on March 19 upheld Mueller’s contempt ruling but said she didn’t sufficiently justify calculating the fines by doubling the state’s monthly salary savings from understaffing prisons. It upheld the fines to the extent that they reflect the state’s actual salary savings but sent the case back to Mueller to justify any higher penalty.

Mueller had been set to begin additional civil contempt proceedings against state officials for their failure to meet two other court requirements: adequately staffing the prison system’s psychiatric inpatient program and improving suicide prevention measures. Those could bring additional fines topping tens of millions of dollars.

But she said her initial contempt order has not had the intended effect of compelling compliance. Mueller wrote as far back as July that additional contempt rulings would also be likely to be ineffective as state officials continued to appeal and seek delays, leading “to even more unending litigation, litigation, litigation.”

She went on to foreshadow her latest order naming a receiver in a preliminary order: “There is one step the court has taken great pains to avoid. But at this point,” Mueller wrote, “the court concludes the only way to achieve full compliance in this action is for the court to appoint its own receiver.”

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