The Allan Polunsky Unit where Roger McGowen is imprisoned houses about 3500 inmates, 370-450 of which are on death row (depending on the year and number of executions). It is a huge, poorly built "bunker" that is deteriorating so rapidly that some of the cells get flooded during heavy rainfalls. The living conditions in this very peculiar place are as utterly desolate and horrifying as one could expect from a place called "death row."
However, it is important to emphasize that in the years since we started corresponding with Roger, in 1997, those conditions have worsened steadily, to an extent that is little short of inconceivable, and unquestionably constitutes "cruel and unusual punishment" (see Death Penalty, The Death Penalty in the United States of America). For example, the food served to the inmates is of an appallingly poor quality, and is barely enough to keep them alive. Roger mentions in a letter (summer of 2004) that their daily intake is probably around 1600 calories, which the World Health Organization (WHO) describes as the minimum intake for the survival of a male adult. Since then, things have only gotten worse.
In the spring of 2003, all Texas death row inmates were moved to the Terrell Unit, later rebaptized Allan Polunsky Unit, in Livingston, near Houston, and since then the severity of the prison regime has increased dramatically.
The inmates cannot watch television anymore. They are allowed to have a radio, but the reception is often very poor in many of the cells and depends on a stellite dish whose position is constantly shifted. Only three (music) stations are available, alternatively Mexican or Rock/Country, and Rap. They used to be allowed to make use of a simple word processor, if they could afford one, but now they can only use primitive typewriters that Roger recently described as "just a step above a chisel and a rock." The typewriter ribbons they need are sold for an absurdly high price, and are of such poor quality that no more than about ten pages can be typed with one ribbon. The amount of stamps they are allowed to purchase diminishes each year.
They used to be able to play a game of volleyball, basketball, or chess during their daily recreation hour outside their cell, but since 2003 they spend that hour alone, just as they spend every hour of every day. They have been deprived of almost all their personal belongings. They used to be able to engage in creative art work, an activity that not only provided some relief and a (renewed) sense of self-worth, but was for many inmates a way to express their feelings of appreciation and love to family and friends. All that had been prohibited, with the exception of a few colour pencils and some paper and cardboard for those who can afford them. They are not allowed to do any work that could generate some income, which is depriving many of them of the only means they have to purchase even the most basic items of toiletry, such as toothpaste, a toothbrush, shaving cream and razor blades, a comb, shampoo, or soap for laundry (the clean clothes and sheets they get every week are often so filthy that they must be washed again, with cold water, in the tiny cell sinks).
Whenever the inmates are allowed to leave their 10 x 6.5 ft. cells, for example to go to the showers or to exercise on their own in the "dayroom" (see below), they are cuffed, sometimes shackled as well, and escorted by two guards. If they have a visitor, they are escorted in the same way, and led to a metallic cubicle of 3 x 3 x 6 ft. with a Plexiglas window for a non-contact visit. The only physical contact on Texas death row is that of the guards' hands restraining the arms of the inmate. After the visit, the inmate is strip searched before being escorted back to his cell.
The heating/air-conditioning system that regulates the temperature in the entire unit is more often than not out of order, or the thermostat is set so low in the winter months that the inmates suffer badly from the cold (they wear only light cotton pants and shirts-- the most fortunate ones own a sweatshirt-- and they have only one thin blanket for the sometimes intensely cold nights). During the summer months, the temperature often gets so high in the cells, 113 degrees (45 degrees C) or even higher on some days, that the inmates nearly suffocate. The same happens with the water in the showers, often icy cold in the winter, and scorching hot during the summer.
The daily routine on death row is highly disruptive and a source of constant stress for the inmates. It is never possible to sleep for more than two or three hours at a time. Unpleasant surprises and changes in the daily schedule are sprung on the inmates at all times, depriving them of one of the only things that could help them maintain some degree of balance and sanity: a sense of safety, and of relative control over what is left of their lives and their identity.
One can say, without overstating it, that everything in that prison is designed to make the lives of the death row inmates as miserable as possible. Every means to dehumanize and humiliate them seems to be put into practice. There is an ombudsman the inmates can send complaints to, but as soon as the guards know that a complaint has been received, they will take their revenge by any means on the inmate himself, or on a whole group. At least twice a year, a "lockdown" is enforced. A lockdown is a disciplinary, twenty-four hours/day confinement period, imposed on a whole wing of death row (60-63 inmates), or to the entire death row population, lasting usually from two to four weeks, during which the severity of the prison rules is intensified, and during which the only food served to the inmates would typically be two pieces of white bread with a little bit of peanut butter, three times a day.
Death row truly does justice to its name. It is a place where men, and a few women, are waiting, each in turn, in a row, for their institutional death, in the most inhuman circumstances imaginable in a modern democratic society.
A "typical" day for Roger
As Roger explains in his book, there is seldom what one could call a "typical" day, especially in an environment where inmates are purposely deprived of a regular schedule. However, many days can approximately enfold according to the following routine:
Roger frequently suffers from insomnia that can last for up to two-three nights. But normally he will get up at around 6 am, which means he will have missed breakfast, usually served at…3 am! At 6 am, the first change of guards takes place. Before that, between 5 and 6 am, the guards from the previous shift will have turned on all the lights and made the first roll call of the day; every inmate in turn must call his name and number, just to make sure nobody is missing. Half an hour later, the new shift guards repeat the whole procedure. Then Roger can start his day, usually with some physical exercise, a condition for survival for someone living 23 hours a day (and sometimes non-stop for days on end during a lockdown) in a 10 x 6.5 foot cell.
Lunch is usually served at around 9 am. After lunch, Roger often spends a long moment, if it is at all possible, in quiet prayer and meditation. He wrote once, in February, 2004: "I have to meditate and pray just about hourly, because it is almost impossible to set any kind of schedule in here. Every minute is a new reality that must be dealt with and prayed upon. So one learns to sort of pray on one's feet, so to speak. But I always pray for the same thing mostly: more love to be shared between mankind. I ask God to grant wisdom and insight to us all, that we may have clearer vision to see beyond the illusion." (Roger is referring here to the illusion or veil of material beliefs which prevent us from being aware of the ultimate reality, which many believe is purely spiritual in nature). "I pray so much through the day that I do it unconsciously. I study the Bible regularly. I try to keep from reading too much structured and organized religious material, because I feel in my heart I know what is expected of me by my Creator."
On most days, if inmates are not under a lockdown, Roger will have one hour to recreate, either in the prison yard—the only time the inmates ever leave the prison building, but even then they are confined in a roofless, enclosed space of roughly the same dimensions as their cell—or in what is called the "dayroom," an open room in the corridor next to the cells, where they have a little more space to move around. At some point during the day, he will normally have the possibility of taking a shower, in a tiny space close to the cells. Showers are frequently cancelled during lockdowns.
Inmates spend hours talking, or rather shouting, to each other through the small grid of their cell doors. Some inmates prefer to use the times between meals to take a nap if they can, read a book, pace back and forth in their cell, or write to family or pen pals. Roger spends a lot of time answering letters from friends around the world. But he also enjoys reading, which is actually the only way to "escape" death row for a while. The level of noise is almost constantly very high, day and night, with people shouting, heavy cell doors being slammed, inmates screaming at the tops of their lungs because they lost their sanity, or because they simply do not see any other way to express their frustration, fear, anxiety, anger, sadness, pain. At other times, there is a deathly silence that is almost as unnerving.
Dinner is served between 3:30 and 4 pm. The second change of guards will take place 6 pm, with again two roll calls. Any incoming mail will be distributed between 7 and 8 pm. Between midnight and 2 am, clean underwear, socks, pants, and shirts will be distributed a couple of times during the week, and once a week bed sheets (since 2008, the pillows have been integrated to the mattrasses, making it impossible to take them out or move them around). And at 3 am…breakfast is served… Welcome to a bright new day in the Allan Polunsky Unit!
Click here to see recent pictures of the 'living' conditions on Texas death row.
However, it is important to emphasize that in the years since we started corresponding with Roger, in 1997, those conditions have worsened steadily, to an extent that is little short of inconceivable, and unquestionably constitutes "cruel and unusual punishment" (see Death Penalty, The Death Penalty in the United States of America). For example, the food served to the inmates is of an appallingly poor quality, and is barely enough to keep them alive. Roger mentions in a letter (summer of 2004) that their daily intake is probably around 1600 calories, which the World Health Organization (WHO) describes as the minimum intake for the survival of a male adult. Since then, things have only gotten worse.
In the spring of 2003, all Texas death row inmates were moved to the Terrell Unit, later rebaptized Allan Polunsky Unit, in Livingston, near Houston, and since then the severity of the prison regime has increased dramatically.
The inmates cannot watch television anymore. They are allowed to have a radio, but the reception is often very poor in many of the cells and depends on a stellite dish whose position is constantly shifted. Only three (music) stations are available, alternatively Mexican or Rock/Country, and Rap. They used to be allowed to make use of a simple word processor, if they could afford one, but now they can only use primitive typewriters that Roger recently described as "just a step above a chisel and a rock." The typewriter ribbons they need are sold for an absurdly high price, and are of such poor quality that no more than about ten pages can be typed with one ribbon. The amount of stamps they are allowed to purchase diminishes each year.
They used to be able to play a game of volleyball, basketball, or chess during their daily recreation hour outside their cell, but since 2003 they spend that hour alone, just as they spend every hour of every day. They have been deprived of almost all their personal belongings. They used to be able to engage in creative art work, an activity that not only provided some relief and a (renewed) sense of self-worth, but was for many inmates a way to express their feelings of appreciation and love to family and friends. All that had been prohibited, with the exception of a few colour pencils and some paper and cardboard for those who can afford them. They are not allowed to do any work that could generate some income, which is depriving many of them of the only means they have to purchase even the most basic items of toiletry, such as toothpaste, a toothbrush, shaving cream and razor blades, a comb, shampoo, or soap for laundry (the clean clothes and sheets they get every week are often so filthy that they must be washed again, with cold water, in the tiny cell sinks).
Whenever the inmates are allowed to leave their 10 x 6.5 ft. cells, for example to go to the showers or to exercise on their own in the "dayroom" (see below), they are cuffed, sometimes shackled as well, and escorted by two guards. If they have a visitor, they are escorted in the same way, and led to a metallic cubicle of 3 x 3 x 6 ft. with a Plexiglas window for a non-contact visit. The only physical contact on Texas death row is that of the guards' hands restraining the arms of the inmate. After the visit, the inmate is strip searched before being escorted back to his cell.The heating/air-conditioning system that regulates the temperature in the entire unit is more often than not out of order, or the thermostat is set so low in the winter months that the inmates suffer badly from the cold (they wear only light cotton pants and shirts-- the most fortunate ones own a sweatshirt-- and they have only one thin blanket for the sometimes intensely cold nights). During the summer months, the temperature often gets so high in the cells, 113 degrees (45 degrees C) or even higher on some days, that the inmates nearly suffocate. The same happens with the water in the showers, often icy cold in the winter, and scorching hot during the summer.
The daily routine on death row is highly disruptive and a source of constant stress for the inmates. It is never possible to sleep for more than two or three hours at a time. Unpleasant surprises and changes in the daily schedule are sprung on the inmates at all times, depriving them of one of the only things that could help them maintain some degree of balance and sanity: a sense of safety, and of relative control over what is left of their lives and their identity.
One can say, without overstating it, that everything in that prison is designed to make the lives of the death row inmates as miserable as possible. Every means to dehumanize and humiliate them seems to be put into practice. There is an ombudsman the inmates can send complaints to, but as soon as the guards know that a complaint has been received, they will take their revenge by any means on the inmate himself, or on a whole group. At least twice a year, a "lockdown" is enforced. A lockdown is a disciplinary, twenty-four hours/day confinement period, imposed on a whole wing of death row (60-63 inmates), or to the entire death row population, lasting usually from two to four weeks, during which the severity of the prison rules is intensified, and during which the only food served to the inmates would typically be two pieces of white bread with a little bit of peanut butter, three times a day.
Death row truly does justice to its name. It is a place where men, and a few women, are waiting, each in turn, in a row, for their institutional death, in the most inhuman circumstances imaginable in a modern democratic society.
A "typical" day for Roger
As Roger explains in his book, there is seldom what one could call a "typical" day, especially in an environment where inmates are purposely deprived of a regular schedule. However, many days can approximately enfold according to the following routine:
Roger frequently suffers from insomnia that can last for up to two-three nights. But normally he will get up at around 6 am, which means he will have missed breakfast, usually served at…3 am! At 6 am, the first change of guards takes place. Before that, between 5 and 6 am, the guards from the previous shift will have turned on all the lights and made the first roll call of the day; every inmate in turn must call his name and number, just to make sure nobody is missing. Half an hour later, the new shift guards repeat the whole procedure. Then Roger can start his day, usually with some physical exercise, a condition for survival for someone living 23 hours a day (and sometimes non-stop for days on end during a lockdown) in a 10 x 6.5 foot cell.
Lunch is usually served at around 9 am. After lunch, Roger often spends a long moment, if it is at all possible, in quiet prayer and meditation. He wrote once, in February, 2004: "I have to meditate and pray just about hourly, because it is almost impossible to set any kind of schedule in here. Every minute is a new reality that must be dealt with and prayed upon. So one learns to sort of pray on one's feet, so to speak. But I always pray for the same thing mostly: more love to be shared between mankind. I ask God to grant wisdom and insight to us all, that we may have clearer vision to see beyond the illusion." (Roger is referring here to the illusion or veil of material beliefs which prevent us from being aware of the ultimate reality, which many believe is purely spiritual in nature). "I pray so much through the day that I do it unconsciously. I study the Bible regularly. I try to keep from reading too much structured and organized religious material, because I feel in my heart I know what is expected of me by my Creator."On most days, if inmates are not under a lockdown, Roger will have one hour to recreate, either in the prison yard—the only time the inmates ever leave the prison building, but even then they are confined in a roofless, enclosed space of roughly the same dimensions as their cell—or in what is called the "dayroom," an open room in the corridor next to the cells, where they have a little more space to move around. At some point during the day, he will normally have the possibility of taking a shower, in a tiny space close to the cells. Showers are frequently cancelled during lockdowns.
Inmates spend hours talking, or rather shouting, to each other through the small grid of their cell doors. Some inmates prefer to use the times between meals to take a nap if they can, read a book, pace back and forth in their cell, or write to family or pen pals. Roger spends a lot of time answering letters from friends around the world. But he also enjoys reading, which is actually the only way to "escape" death row for a while. The level of noise is almost constantly very high, day and night, with people shouting, heavy cell doors being slammed, inmates screaming at the tops of their lungs because they lost their sanity, or because they simply do not see any other way to express their frustration, fear, anxiety, anger, sadness, pain. At other times, there is a deathly silence that is almost as unnerving.
Dinner is served between 3:30 and 4 pm. The second change of guards will take place 6 pm, with again two roll calls. Any incoming mail will be distributed between 7 and 8 pm. Between midnight and 2 am, clean underwear, socks, pants, and shirts will be distributed a couple of times during the week, and once a week bed sheets (since 2008, the pillows have been integrated to the mattrasses, making it impossible to take them out or move them around). And at 3 am…breakfast is served… Welcome to a bright new day in the Allan Polunsky Unit!
Source: Roger McGowen's Website, April 15, 2009
"One is absolutely sickened, not by the crimes that the wicked have committed,
but by the punishments that the good have inflicted."
— Oscar Wilde
but by the punishments that the good have inflicted."
— Oscar Wilde
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