In May, Missouri became one of the northernmost states to hear arguments for better heat mitigation in state prisons after the MacArthur Justice Center filed a class action lawsuit alleging that one prison’s conditions constitute cruel and unusual punishment for those forced to endure dangerous temperatures with little to no relief.
The facility, Algoa Correctional Center, is one of four Missouri prisons with no air conditioning in any of the housing units. In Jefferson City, where Algoa is located, the first 90-degree day of the year arrived in May.
The following month, a blistering heat wave torched the Midwest, bringing temperatures in the mid-90s for a week straight. Similar bouts of extreme heat continued into July and August, following a pattern of record-breaking temperatures that has become increasingly common in recent years.
In July, attorneys argued that Cole County Circuit Judge Christopher Limbaugh should require the Missouri Department of Corrections to immediately create a heat mitigation plan for Algoa.
When a man housed at Algoa died on July 23, MacArthur Justice Center attorneys were concerned that his death could be heat-related. Missouri Department of Corrections Communications Director Karen Pojmann said on Aug. 22 that an autopsy has been ordered, and the cause of death is still unconfirmed. Pojmann added that, to date, there have been no heat-related deaths in Missouri prisons.
“Multiple times throughout the summer, conditions were ripe for heat-related illness or death,” said Shubra Ohri, one of the lawyers on the case. “There were a few weeks where the heat index surpassed 100 degrees for days. The risk of heatstroke was scary and acute, and it happens every year.”
As of Sept. 2, Limbaugh has yet to issue a ruling on a mitigation plan.
While litigation unfolds, people in prisons without air conditioning continue to endure the effects of extreme heat, which is often exacerbated by building materials that trap heat and humidity.
The Marshall Project - St. Louis asked Jeremy Hann, one of the people who gave sworn testimony in the lawsuit against Algoa, to log his days during the first heat wave of the summer. The heat wave began on June 20 and lasted for about a week, with outdoor air temperatures reaching 96 degrees Fahrenheit and a heat index of up to 105 degrees in eastern Missouri, according to the National Weather Service.
Hann has since been relocated to Boonville Correctional Center, and is scheduled to be released later this year. Originally from Kansas City, he earned his high school equivalency while in prison and is currently enrolled in Missouri’s Central Methodist University, studying business. The log below is representative of entries from the week, drawing mostly from Sunday, June 22. Entries have been edited for length and clarity.
6 a.m.
I wake up to the lights on — breakfast! It’s hot already, my pillow mat and sheets are soaked in sweat. For breakfast, it’s oatmeal and peanut butter. I eat, but it makes my stomach hurt it’s so hot! I lay back down and try my best to go back to bed.
The worst part about this whole thing is my sink hardly works — water just trickles from the hole it comes out of. The drain doesn’t drain more than maybe a centimeter an hour. There is a film over the water that’s in there, and rust around the edges of the sink … so I have no fluids to drink other than ice in a cup they give us, or the drink we get with our meals. I can hear a fan in the hallway, but feel no air.
I finally fall asleep by counting the water droplets as they drip into my sink.
11 a.m.
I get woken up again for lunch time, but I can’t eat – it’s so hot and miserable. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. My face, arms, and upper body are sticky from sweating in my sleep.
Even as I lay here writing this, I have a cold rag on my chest and it’s almost dry already. I just dunked it in the nasty sink water — it stinks, but it’s all we got to cool off with.
12 p.m.
It is now ice pass (when correctional officers hand out a cup of ice to people on hot days) and I get super excited — it’s like Christmas! I have my insulated cup with me, so the ice lasts about 2 hours unless I eat it really fast to cool off. Without the cup, it melts in a matter of minutes.
With no airflow, though, I can still hardly eat lunch. I just lay on my bunk, which is still damp, and the humidity is up today so that doesn’t help the sheets to dry.
I flip my pillow over, and the pillow case has already got rust on it.
3 p.m.
The new shift of correctional officers comes in and I’m already really thirsty – out of ice and no water to drink. I’ve asked the officers to tell maintenance to come fix the sink. They haven’t, but still I ask every day.
I’ve got my towel on my pillow and a T-shirt on my mat to keep the sweat off. Like this, it’s just tolerable. Again, the fan in the hallway is a teaser. I wonder: How can this be legal? Dinner is soon and I’m not even close to being hungry because of the heat.
4 p.m.
The correctional officers bring us the dinner trays, but the best thing is the sweet tea. I wait for ice to drink it.
It’s really muggy and the smell of food makes my stomach super nauseous, but I eat anyways because I’m starving. I get done eating and wait for them to bring around the last ice we get till tomorrow morning. I lay here looking around the cell and think, How is this humane? There’s mold on the walls close to the ceiling. I feel like these conditions are worse than most pigs and cows get treated.
6 p.m.
It’s heating up in here, so I sit up on my bunk and try to focus on my book. I can’t, so I watch the Pando app (a Christian app for incarcerated people) on my tablet ... ice finally comes and it’s like I won the lottery. But it’s short-lived because the ice melts super fast again, so I just lay down and close my eyes. It’s hard to breathe so I just hope it cools down soon.
7:30 p.m.
I don’t want to lay down, so I pace the cell. I have run out of ice and it’s so humid it’s miserable. I wish they would transfer me so I could get out of this hole.
11 p.m.
It’s finally starting to cool down. I close my eyes and try to get comfortable. Finally the light goes out, but I’m still uncomfortable. It’s so sticky, I know it’s going to be dreadful sleeping tonight.