By Alan Bean
It is good to see Human Rights Watch tackling the issue of aging prisoners. I will never forget talking to Joe Moore, a brittle diabetic with bad knees, through the Plexiglass in the visitation room of a Texas prison. The folks handling the medical contract for the state prison system were trying to cut expenses. A doctor decided to take Joe off his insulin to see if he really needed the medication. First Joe lost his balance; then his tongue doubled in size, then his eyesight went. When Joe told the guards he was too sick to work, they forced him to dress and join the kitchen detail. Joe tried to comply, but he fell unconscious to the floor of his cell and came within a whisker of death. Without influential supporters in the free world, Joe would have died behind bars.
Joe Moore died a few years after being exonerated and released from prison. His friends were with him and he was able to buy a little farm and work his own cattle after release. He left this world with his dignity intact.
And then I think of Ramsey Muniz, the Latino politician and civil rights legend currently housed in a federal prison in Beaumont, Texas. Ramsey is 70 years old and can’t walk without the help of a cane. Like Joe Moore, Muniz is the victim of a shady drug bust and a rigged trial. But what if, like most prisoners, Joe and Ramsey were guilty as charged? Does it make any sense to warehouse aging men and women, at an average cost of $50,000 a year, who no longer represent a threat to public safety?
The excellent eight-part series on Louisiana incarceration in the Times-Picayune emphasized the growing geriatric wing of the state’s notorious Angola prison. Decades of life without parole sentencing have created a pitiless system bereft of compassion and common sense.
In her summary of the 110-page report she produced for Human Rights Watch, Jamie Fellner underscores the senseless horror of forcing thousands of elderly offenders to die behind bars.
Among the more than 26,000 state and federal prisoners aged 65 or older are some who have severe physical and mental impairments. One 87-year-old I met last year while conducting research on older prisoners could not tell me his name. He had been in prison for 27 years, 20 of them in a special unit because of his severe cognitive impairments. I met prisoners who were dying and could not breathe without assistance; prisoners so old and frail they needed help getting up from their bed and into their wheelchairs; prisoners who lacked the mental and physical ability to bathe or eat or go to the bathroom by themselves.
Frail and Elderly Prisoners: Do They Still Belong Behind Bars?
As the US confronts a growing population of geriatric prisoners, it is time to reconsider whether they really need to be locked up. Prison keeps dangerous people off the streets. But how many prisoners whose minds and bodies have been whittled away by age are dangerous? (more…)

By Alan Bean
By Alan Bean
