THE SYSTEMTIC TORTURE OF PRISONERS

I recently heard about the conviction of federal correctional officers at USP Big Sandy, one of them, Terry Melvin, pleaded guilty to beating an inmate. This wasn't some one-off incident. This was policy.

Melvin pleaded guilty to conspiracy to violate the civil rights of prisoners, depriving them of their constitutional right to be free from cruel and unusual punishment. In his plea, he acknowledged that there was an unofficial but well-known practice at Big Sandy: staff regularly brutalized prisoners.

Now, they might try to tell you this all started in 2021. That's a lie.

I was at USP Big Sandy from 2014 to 2020, and I can tell you from firsthand experience, this kind of violence has been happening well before the Melvin conspiracy.

USP Big Sandy, like most Mid-Atlantic federal penitentiaries, has a long history of staff brutality against prisoners. And let's be real, Black prisoners bear the worst of it.

I've often wondered why the abuse seems to be disproportionately inflicted on Black prisoners. Maybe it’s because Kentucky is mostly white and many of the correctional officers had never even encountered a Black person before working at the prison. They’d admit as much, telling me, "I never even saw a Black person in real life until I started working here."

Bias? Sure. But bias alone doesn’t explain it. Maybe it's power, a dynamic where white staff control and dominate Black prisoners without consequence.

I've seen them call Black men "n**r" like it was nothing. I've seen them beat men while they were handcuffed. I've seen them torture men in ways that would break most people's spirits. I've seen what real evil looks like.

The "Four-Points" Cell: A Modern-Day Torture Chamber

Before I left Big Sandy, I was in the Special Housing Unit (SHU), also known as "the hole." The SHU had four ranges, two on the upper level and two on the bottom. On my range, there was one cell reserved for pure torture, a place known as the four-points cell.

Here is how it works:

• A prisoner would be taken in and strapped down to a concrete slab, arms and legs stretched out.

  
  

• He would remain there for at least 28 to 30 hours, often longer.

  
  

• He would beg to use the restroom and be told to defecate on himself.

  
  

• He would plead for release only to be ignored, mocked, or further brutalized.

  
  

• Eventually, he would start begging to talk to someone, because conversation was the only thing that could help ease the suffering.

  
  

And then, eventually, the worst part. Most every man in that cell reached a breaking point and would say:

"Please, if I don't make it, tell my family I love them."

Every single one of them believed they were going to die on that cold, concrete slab.

When a man was placed in four-points, we knew what we had to do. We took shifts talking to him. If one of us got tired, another prisoner would pick up the conversation. We did what we could to keep his mind from breaking.

The guards didn’t just ignore their cries, they loved hearing them. They checked in every 15 minutes, and every hour they did a "physical check," which was usually just another excuse to inflict more pain. They would press mace-covered shields onto the prisoner’s face. They would tighten the restraints to the point of cutting off circulation. They would fake medical exams just to inflict more suffering. And they would laugh.

But there was one thing the guards hated most, the men who refused to scream. The men who took the torture in silence. They gave the rest of us hope.

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"Blind Spots": Where Prisoners Were Beaten in Secret

Terry Melvin admitted in his plea that prisoners were brought to offices with no security cameras and beaten.

One man, identified as J.B., had asked for protective custody. Here’s what happened next, Melvin turned to another officer, M.C., and said he was "tired of this." M.C. punched J.B. in the face. Another officer held J.B. against the wall. Melvin punched him. M.C. and others kicked and stomped him in the stomach and face.

And why? Because they could. Because in that blind spot, where no cameras could see, they had full control.

They Were Paid to Do It

Melvin's plea also revealed something even darker. He was paid between $6,000 to $8,000 to beat prisoners.

That’s when it all clicked.

This wasn’t just racism. It wasn’t just power. It wasn’t just sadism.

It was business.

They were getting extra money on top of their government salaries to torture human beings.

Which brings me to my final question. What kind of person does this? What kind of person takes a job where they can legally brutalize people? What kind of person enjoys it so much that they’ll do it for extra cash? What kind of person watches men scream for help, begs them to say "please," and then denies them even that?

This isn't a case of a "few bad apples."

This is a culture of brutality, a system that encourages and rewards cruelty. And we're supposed to believe that these are the people "keeping society safe"?

This Is Why We Fight.

When I hear about these convictions, I don’t celebrate. Why?

• Because Terry Melvin is just one name in a long list of abusers.

  
  

• Because for every one guard that gets caught, there are hundreds still getting away with it.

  
  

• Because prisoners are still being brutalized while the world turns a blind eye.

  
  

• Because the system is still running exactly as it was designed to do.

  
  

• And until that changes, we will not stop fighting for justice.

  
  

Manumission Is The Mission!