“I Begged Them To Let Me Die”: How Federal Prisons Became Coronavirus Death Traps.

He sounded like he was dying.That was Sonia Rodriguez’s first thought when her fiancé called her from federal prison near Cleveland. The gravelly voice she had known since high school had turned into a wheeze. He could barely finish a sentence without pausing to catch his breath. He said he was coughing up blood.Rodriguez, a 49-year-old who handles accounting at a bakery, knew she was taking on a lot when she reconnected with JJ—officially Johnny Joe Desilva Jr.—while he was serving time. She knew his past involvement in gangs and drug trafficking would make the road to married life long.This article was published in partnership with VICE News. Sign up for their newsletter, or follow them on Facebook or Twitter.But now she feared she would lose her strong fiancé to sickness. To COVID-19. While he was in the federal government’s care.“He asked if I knew how much he loved me,” she said, crying as she remembered. “I thought I would get a call from him the next day.”She didn’t. It was as if he had vanished.The coronavirus had arrived at the Elkton Federal Correctional Institution, where, as one prisoner put it, there were suddenly “people walking around looking like the living dead.”With over 163,000 people in custody, the federal Bureau of Prisons is America’s largest jailer. The BOP touts its prisons as “safe, humane, cost-efficient, and appropriately secure.” But what happened at Elkton is typical in many ways of the grim conditions and bungled responses at federal lockups across the country. The agency confirms active cases at 69 of its 122 prisons. As of Wednesday, it reported at least 6,245 prisoners and 673 staff infected over the course of the pandemic at its prisons and halfway houses.And the truth is much worse than the BOP’s official numbers indicate.VICE News and The Marshall Project spoke with more than 85 federal prisoners or their family members, and 25 staff members at prisons with coronavirus outbreaks. We obtained dozens of internal BOP memos, emails, and other documents, and reviewed images and videos recorded on contraband cell phones.