I was standing in a containment cage, a contraption smaller than a telephone booth made of steel and mesh wire. It was standing room only in the cage, with no toilet or sink.

This was a regular part of life for a prisoner in solitary confinement in Texas. Every time I was transferred to a different prison facility, I found myself in one of these containment cages while the prison administration assigned me to a cell. This time, I’d spent the past 23 months in solitary confinement for possession of a contraband cellphone. Prison administrators had approved my release back into the general population, and I had been transferred to the William McConnell Unit in South Texas.

There were two other prisoners standing in the additional containment cages, one six feet to my left and the other six feet to my right. A small-framed young Latino kid named Sam was in the left containment cage, and Mike, a frail, elderly Black man with an unkempt gray beard was to my right. The moment my shackles and handcuffs were removed, Sam began telling me horror stories about McConnell. (I am using pseudonyms to protect the prisoners mentioned.)

Sam explained that he was enrolled in the McConnell Unit’s self-harm program because he expressed suicidal ideations. He had attempted suicide multiple times, and each time the prison administrators tossed him into a containment cage. On average, Sam spent four days in a containment cage before being transferred to a mental health facility.

This time, Sam had been in a containment cage for six consecutive days, without a single opportunity to access a toilet. Turning sideways inside his containment cage, Sam pointed at a pile of brown substance on his floor. It was dried feces. When I expressed my disbelief that he had been forced to relieve himself within his cage, Sam informed me that the feces belonged to the prisoners previously in the cage.

Archived at https://ghostarchive.org/archive/ZqSSJ