Video Replaces In-Person Visits at Prisons

AUSTIN, Texas — I visited a friend in jail not long ago. I passed through a metal detector, waited in the lobby for a while, then sat down at one of several dozen visitation booths — the kind with the reinforced plexiglass divider you see on TV cop shows. But my friend didn’t appear on the other side of that divider; instead, we spoke via a touch-screen video terminal, a system so buggy and frustrating that we quit before our allotted 25 minutes elapsed. It was hardly worth the effort.

In the last few years, jails and prisons across the country — in 43 states, according to one recent count — have embraced video visitation, more or less a generic version of Skype for inmates. The companies that sell video visitation systems promote them as a convenience both for prison employees and for the families of inmates. “Save time and money by visiting your incarcerated friends and family from the comfort of your home or office,” promises the website for Securus Technologies, one of the biggest players in the prison communication industry. For family members who live far from a jail or prison facility, video visitation can provide a welcome option, though it’s not exactly inexpensive: A dollar per minute or higher for video chats is common.

But the companies don’t just provide an additional service. They also strongly encourage facilities to eliminate traditional face-to-face visitation in order to drive more business to their video systems, often making its elimination a stipulation of the facility’s contract with the company. A recent report by the Prison Policy Initiative, a Massachusetts-based think tank, found that 74 percent of county jails that added video visitation also ended traditional visitation. “With face-to-face visits, families talk about how they can put their hand up to the glass and mothers talk about being able to see the skin of the person on the other side,” said Bernadette Rabuy, a co-author of the report. “Things like that that are important, and they’re not possible with a glitchy video system.”

Reports of glitchy video are common. During the two visits I’ve made, the video and audio were out of sync like a badly dubbed foreign film. Connecting via the remote system is often bewildering, even for those who are technically savvy. Jaynna Sims, who helped prepare a report published last year criticizing video visitation, said she struggled with the system despite the fact that she works as a software developer. She tried to maintain contact with her boyfriend, who was in jail after a parole violation. “We’d be having a personal conversation, and the video would go out,” she said. “It just messes with your head and adds to the stress both people have when what they offer doesn’t work reliably.”

Even when the technology does work as designed, users say, video visitation sessions fall well short of the real thing. As Rabuy’s report documents, it’s impossible to maintain eye contact during a visit or often to clearly see the face of the person on the other end. Lauren Johnson spent a month as an inmate at the Travis County Correctional Complex, near Austin, Texas, before in-person visitation was eliminated in 2013. Johnson, now an advocate for prison reform, said her husband made sure to schedule in-person visits and avoid the video terminals so that their three children could see her in the flesh. “It’s not something you can quantify,” she said. “Eye contact is a huge deal. It’s blowing them kisses and putting your hand to the glass. The kids get lost with the video terminals. It’s just not the same experience. It’s a disconnected feeling.”

Beyond the feelings of inmates and their loved ones, why should anyone care about the quality of jail and prison visitation? One reason is that multiple studies have found that more visits while criminals are in jail appear to lead to less crime after they get out. A 2008 study published in the Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency concluded, after looking at the data from several studies, that “visitation and more frequent visitation were both associated with a lower likelihood of recidivism.” Visitation may also have an effect on violence in jails. At the Travis County Jail, there was an uptick in the number of assaults and overall disciplinary actions after face-to-face visitation was eliminated, according to the Prison Policy Initiative report — and this despite industry promises that switching exclusively to video would lead to fewer such problems.

While the rise of video visitation is fairly new, private companies profiting from the more than 2 million prisoners held in the United States is anything but. The Corrections Corp. of America, which runs more than 60 prisons throughout the country, brings in well over a billion dollars a year. But even at state-run prisons, private companies find ways to flourish. Prison banking companies allow money to be deposited into inmates’ accounts, though the service comes at a cost. A report published in September by the Center for Public Integrity found that one company, JPay, charged fees as high as 45 percent. (After the report was published, the company announced plans to eliminate fees for money orders.)

Inmate communication is likewise a lucrative business. Securus Technologies, which is based in Dallas and serves the Travis County Jail, has annual revenues that top $300 million. Its CEO, Richard Smith, said in an interview that his company isn’t driving the move away from face-to-face visits; rather, it’s responding to the needs of jail administrators. That said, he acknowledged that eliminating face-to-face visits is a “negotiation point for sure,” and Securus marketing materials emphasize the purported upsides of moving exclusively to video. “If they’re willing to do less face-to-face because of their needs, I probably benefit because there’s going to be more remote video visitation,” he said.

A Securus competitor, GTL, also offers video visitation — but Dave Henion, GTL’s vice president of video visitation sales, drew a distinction between his company and Securus. According to him, eliminating face-to-face visitation is not written into GTL’s contracts with facilities. “The idea is that we’re looking at this as a supplement to visitation, as opposed to something to drive revenue,” said Henion, who is critical of Securus’ approach. “It’s a great alternative, and that’s what it’s designed for.” While GTL may not insist on doing away with face-to-face visitation, its website makes the same case that Securus makes: getting rid of traditional visits will be safer and more efficient corrections facilities.

Smith argues that ending face-to-face visits is good for everyone. According to him, jails and prisons could save $1 billion a year through reductions in staffing and facility costs. He contends that the families of inmates nationwide could save $2 billion annually on gas and lodging by not having to travel to a jail or prison facility. And most important, Smith believes, video visitation will lead to huge reductions in violence. “We’re talking about saving hundreds or maybe thousands of lives over time in the United States because bad things happen in face-to-face visits,” he said.

Murders during prison and jail visitation appear to be exceedingly rare. At jails like the one in Travis County, with its sealed booths and plexiglass dividers, it’s unclear how an inmate would harm, much less kill, a visitor. Wes Priddy, the county’s jail administrator, said that face-to-face visits had on occasion led to “some chaos,” though he didn’t know of any specific violent incident. As for the billions of dollars in savings, Rabuy, a co-author of the report on video visitation, called those estimates “very unlikely” and pointed to the high costs of video visitation sessions, which would significantly offset any savings on travel costs.

While video visitation continues to spread, some counties have pushed back against companies trying to dictate their visitation policies. In September commissioners in Dallas County rejected a deal with Securus, in part because the contract would have meant ending face-to-face visits. They later approved the deal once that requirement was scratched and after the fee for remote video visits was reduced to $10 per session. Prison advocates who advised the commissioners saw this as a victory, though they still worry that eventually in-person visits will cease there as well.

Last fall the Federal Communications Commission proposed permanent caps on what it called “exorbitant” telephone rates charged by companies that service jails and prisons. So far the FCC hasn’t proposed any action on video visitation. Two bills currently in the Texas Legislature would force jails to allow weekly face-to-face visits and could prompt other states to re-examine their regulations.

Susan Gregory’s husband spent six months at the Yavapai County Jail in Camp Verde, Arizona, which has eliminated face-to-face visits. Even though the couple talked regularly on the phone and wrote letters to each other, what she wanted more than anything was to be able to see him in person. Gregory, who is the information coordinator for a church in Sedona, repeatedly used the word “inhumane” to describe the video-only policy. “Even if it’s through plexiglass, at least you can have some kind of live interaction with your loved one,” she said. “That would have made it better for me and him to maintain that human contact. Just because someone committed a crime doesn’t stop the love you have with them.”

Reports of glitchy video are common. During the two visits I’ve made, the video and audio were out of sync like a badly dubbed foreign film. Connecting via the remote system is often bewildering, even for those who are technically savvy. Jaynna Sims, who helped prepare a report published last year criticizing video visitation, said she struggled with the system despite the fact that she works as a software developer. She tried to maintain contact with her boyfriend, who was in jail following a parole violation. “We’d be having a personal conversation and the video would go out,” she said. “It just messes with your head and adds to the stress both people have when what they offer doesn’t work reliably.”

Even when the technology does work as designed, users say, video-visitation sessions fall well short of the real thing. As Rabuy’s report documents, it’s impossible to maintain eye contact during a visit or often to clearly see the face of the person on the other end. Lauren Johnson spent a month as an inmate at the Travis County Correctional Complex, near Austin, back before in-person visitation was eliminated entirely in 2013. Johnson, now an advocate for prison reform, said her husband made sure to schedule in-person visits and avoid the video terminals so that their three children could see her in the flesh. “It’s not something you can quantify,” she said. “Eye contact is a huge deal. It’s blowing them kisses and putting your hand to the glass. The kids get lost with the video terminals. It’s just not the same experience. It’s a disconnected feeling.”

Beyond the feelings of inmates and their loved ones, why should anyone care about the quality of jail and prison visitation? One reason is that multiple studies have found that more visits while criminals are in jail appear to lead to less crime when they get out. A 2008 study published in the Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency concluded, after looking at the data from several studies, that “visitation and more frequent visitation were both associated with a lower likelihood of recidivism.” Visitation may also have an effect on violence in jails. At the Travis County Jail, there was an uptick in the number of assaults and overall disciplinary actions after face-to-face visitation was eliminated, according to the Prison Policy Initiative report — and this despite industry promises that switching exclusively to video would lead to fewer such problems.

While the rise of video visitation is fairly new, private companies profiting from the more than 2 million prisoners held in the United States is anything but. The Corrections Corporation of America, which runs more than 60 prisons throughout the country, brings in well over a billion dollars a year. But even at state-run prisons, private companies find ways to flourish. Prison banking companies allow money to be deposited into inmates’ accounts, though the service comes at a cost. A reportpublished in September by the Center for Public Integrity found that one company, JPay, charged fees as high as 45 percent. (After the report was published, the company announced plans to eliminate fees for money orders.)

Inmate communication is likewise a lucrative business. Securus Technologies, which is based in Dallas and serves the Travis County Jail, has annual revenues that top $300 million. Its CEO, Richard Smith, said in an interview that his company isn’t driving the move away from face-to-face visits; rather, it’s responding to the needs of jail administrators. That said, Smith does acknowledge that eliminating face-to-face visits is a “negotiation point for sure,” and Securus marketing materials emphasize the purported upsides of moving exclusively to video. “If they’re willing to do less face-to-face because of their needs, I probably benefit because there’s going to be more remote video visitation,” Smith said.

A Securus competitor, GTL, also offers video visitation — but Dave Henion, vice president of video-visitation sales, drew a distinction between his company and Securus. According to Henion, eliminating face-to-face visitation is not written into GTL’s contracts with jails. “The idea is that we’re looking at this as a supplement to visitation, as opposed to something to drive revenue,” said Henion, who is critical of Securus’ approach. “It’s a great alternative, and that’s what it’s designed for.” But while GTL may not insist on doing away with face-to-face visitation, its website makes the same case that Securus makes: getting rid of traditional visits will be safer and more efficient corrections facilities.

Smith, the Securus CEO, argues that ending face-to-face visits is good for everyone. According to him, jails and prisons could save $1 billion a year through reductions in staffing and facility costs. He also contends that the families of inmates nationwide could save $2 billion annually on gas and lodging by not having to travel to a jail or prison facility. And most importantly, Smith believes, video visitation will lead to huge reductions in violence. “We’re talking about saving hundreds or maybe thousands of lives over time in the United States because bad things happen in face-to-face visits,” Smith said.

Murders during prison and jail visitation appear to be exceedingly rare. At jails like the one in Travis County, with its sealed booths and Plexiglas dividers, it’s unclear how an inmate would harm, much less kill, a visitor. Wes Priddy, the county’s jail administrator, said that face-to-face visits had on occasion led to “some chaos,” though he didn’t know of any specific violent incident. As for the billions of dollars in savings, Rabuy, the co-author of the report on video visitation, called those estimates “very unlikely” and pointed to the high costs of video visitation sessions, which would significantly offset any savings on travel costs.

While video visitation continues to spread, some counties have pushed back against companies trying to dictate their visitation policies. Last September commissioners in Dallas County rejected a deal with Securus, in part because the contract would have meant ending face-to-face visits. They later approved the deal once that requirement was scratched and after the fee for remote video visits was reduced to $10 per session. Prison advocates who advised the commissioners saw this as a victory, though they still worry that eventually in-person visits will cease there as well.

Last fall the Federal Communications Commission proposed permanent caps on what it called “exorbitant” telephone rates charged by companies that service jails and prisons. So far the FCC hasn’t proposed any action on video visitation. Two billscurrently in the Texas Legislature would force jails to allow weekly face-to-face visits and could prompt other states to re-examine their regulations.

Susan Gregory’s husband spent six months at the Yavapai County Jail in Camp Verde, Ariz., which has eliminated face-to-face visits. Even though the couple talked regularly on the phone and wrote letters to each other, what she wanted more than anything was to be able to see him in person. Gregory, who is the information coordinator for a church in Sedona, repeatedly used the word “inhumane” to describe the video-only policy. “Even if it’s through Plexiglas, at least you can have some kind of live interaction with your loved one,” she said. “That would have made it better for me and him to maintain that human contact. Just because someone committed a crime doesn’t stop the love you have with them.”