This is The Marshall Project’s Closing Argument newsletter, a weekly deep dive into a key criminal justice issue. Want this delivered to your inbox? Sign up for future newsletters.
Late last month, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul and legislators struck a final deal on correctional reforms after a tumultuous year in state prisons, marked by officers beating prisoners to death and an illegal guard strike.
One change in the law, requiring increased video surveillance, could greatly reduce violence against people behind bars if fully implemented, said Sean Chung, who worked as a janitor while locked up at Marcy Correctional Facility east of Syracuse.
“Cameras in infirmaries will be a huge step that could cut down assaults,” Chung said. “Infirmaries are the home base for assaults.”
Chung said he had to clean up blood, pepper spray, urine, and sometimes feces after guards beat up incarcerated people at Marcy’s infirmary.
The new law mandates continuous 24-hour video surveillance in all areas where guards interact with incarcerated people, including infirmaries and all prison vehicles. The law requires prisons to eliminate all camera “blind spots” except toilets, showers and inside cells.
The infirmary where Chung worked for a year, starting in 2021, gained worldwide attention in December 2024, after state attorney general Letitia James released a video showing White officers casually beating and choking a handcuffed Black man named Robert Brooks. He died the day after the beating. Seven former guards have been convicted in connection with Brooks’ murder, two others were acquitted, and one other is awaiting trial.
Marcy was not the only prison where guards turned a place of healing into a den of hidden violence. The Marshall Project found that guards at other New York prisons often assaulted incarcerated people in clinics, which lacked security cameras due to medical privacy concerns.
After Brooks’ murder, Hochul fired more than a dozen guards and nurses, met with incarcerated men at Marcy, and put cameras at the center of her correctional reforms.
Last January, Hochul proposed spending $400 million on fixed security cameras. At the time, less than a quarter of state prisons had cameras installed throughout the facility. She also earmarked $16 million for body cameras for all officers who interact with prisoners.
Then in February, correctional officers went on a 22-day strike in violation of their contract with the state. Hochul called out the National Guard to help staff prisons. Two weeks into the strike, guards killed another incarcerated man, Messiah Nantwi, at Mid-State prison, down the road from Marcy, according to prosecutors. Ten officers were charged in this case, including two with murder. Prosecutors allege that none of the Mid-State officers turned on their body cameras as required by policy, and that they beat Nantwi in three different locations, including an infirmary.
In May, the budget with the $416 million investment in cameras became law. Just before adjourning in June, the legislature passed a sprawling corrections bill that consolidated 10 pending prison bills altogether. After protracted negotiations, Hochul and legislators agreed on a bill that will become law this year.
Hochul immediately came under fire from New York’s correctional officers’ union, which argued that Brooks’ murder did not justify 24-hour continuous video surveillance.
“We cannot support legislation that responds to a single tragedy by imposing broad, punitive oversight on thousands of dedicated corrections professionals who had no role in it and who are already under constant surveillance and scrutiny,” the union said in a press release.
While the union contends that Brooks’ death was a single tragedy, The Marshall Project and other news organizations have reported on systemic violence by New York prison guards for years: the department’s failure to discipline abusive officers, how officers thwart discipline, and how most fired officers get their jobs back, alongside rising brutality and other homicides.
Many prison reform advocates have praised the expansion of video cameras, as well as an extension of the deadline for incarcerated people to sue the state for damages and civil rights violations. The former statute of limitations was three years after the alleged incident; incarcerated people can now file lawsuits up to one year after release from prison.
The drawn-out negotiations between the governor and lawmakers centered on the legislature’s attempt to change the State Commission of Correction, an independent agency with broad powers to investigate prisons and jails. In December, I reported on more than 30 people in New York prisons who died of preventable or treatable health conditions. The commission is required to ensure prisons are “safe, stable and humane”, and it investigated the deaths. However, commission reports typically take an average of two and a half years to complete, and provide limited insight to the public and families of the deceased. The reports are heavily redacted, and families must sue the commission to obtain an unredacted report.
Advocates have long complained that retirees from law enforcement and corrections have dominated the three-member commission. The legislature tried to triple the number of commissioners by adding six people who were formerly incarcerated or were experienced in public and behavioral health. But Hochul limited the change to two new members, a formerly incarcerated person and a mental health professional who will be appointed by the governor and will work part-time and with no salary.
Yonah Zeitz of the Katal Center, which advocates for criminal justice reform, said Hochul will be accountable for the results.
“The entire oversight burden of reform now falls squarely on her shoulders because she chose not to give the Assembly and Senate appointments,” Zeitz said. “She's now solely responsible for what happens with the commission going forward.”