Latest news with #prisonSystem
Washington Post
13-05-2025
- Politics
- Washington Post
Lawmakers seek investigation into South Carolina's firing squad execution
COLUMBIA, S.C. — Two South Carolina legislators have requested an investigation into the state's firing squad execution last month after lawyers for the inmate said his autopsy showed the shots nearly missed his heart and left him in extreme pain for up to a minute. The Democratic and Republican representatives asked the governor, the prison system and leaders in the state House and Senate for an independent and comprehensive review of the April 11 execution of Mikal Mahdi.
The Guardian
10-05-2025
- The Guardian
Almost half of Victorian male inmates have a brain injury. For Michael, diagnosis was the first step to a new life
Michael Mayne does not know precisely when he acquired a brain injury. It may have been in one of two serious motorcycle accidents, or – as he suspects – the consequence of decades of drug use, or a combination of all three. But he knows when it was diagnosed: he was 47 and he had just come out of prison – and not for the first time. An estimated 2% of Australians have an acquired brain injury (ABI). The most common causes are accidents, trauma, stroke, and foetal alcohol spectrum disorder. But among the prison population, the prevalence of ABI is astronomically high, leading legal experts to argue that the system that is supposed to be providing justice is effectively criminalising disability instead. A 2011 study estimated that 42% of male prisoners and 33% of female prisoners in Victoria had an ABI. The Australian Institute of Health and Welfare reports that nationally, the prevalence may be as high as 90%. But despite people with ABI being disproportionately represented in prison, there are few screening processes to identify them along the way and little if any available support. Sign up for a weekly email featuring our best reads Mayne hopes to change that. He's one of four people who have shared their stories for a new podcast, All Been Inside, exploring the different ways the justice system traps people with ABI into a cycle of criminalisation. The podcast is the product of Voices for Change – a self-advocacy group for people with ABI who have had contact with the justice system – and Fitzroy Legal Service. 'What I know now, if I knew it back then, I'd be a completely different person,' Mayne says. Mayne had been in trouble with the law since he was a kid, starting off in juvenile detention for motorbike-related offences at age 13. He really 'spiralled out of control' after the deaths of his parents, just two months apart from each other, when he was 18, and his drug use began to escalate, as did his crimes: car theft, burglary, armed robbery. 'The amounts of heroin I was pumping into myself – I was spending sometimes $1,500 a day,' Mayne, 57, says. He overdosed 'a couple of times'; he crashed his motorbike; he went in and out of prison repeatedly. A doctor first suggested to Mayne that he might have an ABI during one of those prison stints. About a decade ago, with the help of his GP, he found out for sure. 'Having an ABI, I feel like a second-class citizen because I don't understand a lot of things. I taught myself in jail how to read by reading the newspaper,' Mayne says in the podcast. 'If there was some way they could have screened me to see if I had an ABI I think my time might have been shorter and a lot different.' Jai Haines knew about his ABI from the start. He was 19 when he misjudged a corner on his motorbike. The bike collided with the tree first, and his head followed – an impact so powerful it split his helmet in two. Before the accident, the young Tommeginne man had played state-level gridiron, been a good student, and planned to join the army. But medical testing soon confirmed a brain injury, and Haines's world was profoundly altered. 'Sitting in the hospital and having to do all these cognitive skill things, and I just couldn't concentrate … As much as I wanted to try so hard, I just couldn't do it. And it was making me feel really angry,' Haines, now 45, says. 'I ended up just hitting the drugs really hard, started drinking a lot, and that led to me doing crime.' It would take many years, a mini-stroke, a compassionate lawyer – 'she talked to me in a way that made me feel like I was valid' – and similarly compassionate judge to help him turn his life around. 'His name was Judge Hardy, and it was the way he spoke to me. He knew that I was a better person,' Haines said. 'He actually sat down [with me] … and he goes, 'I'm not going to set you up to fail, mate'.' Stan Winford, a researcher and legal expert at RMIT University's Centre for Innovative Justice, says it usually takes multiple encounters with the system for people with an ABI to have their injury identified, let alone addressed. And even when people know it, disclosure isn't always in their best interests. Sign up to Five Great Reads Each week our editors select five of the most interesting, entertaining and thoughtful reads published by Guardian Australia and our international colleagues. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Saturday morning after newsletter promotion 'It can be something that makes you vulnerable to different forms of exploitation and oppression within the system,' Winford says. 'If they let people know that they have that form of disability, they're more likely to be stood over by other prisoners; if they let some officials know – police officers, for example – they might be less able to exercise their rights in interviews.' As the justice system develops 'what are becoming quite difficult and overbearing conditions' in community corrections or bail orders, he says, people who have difficulties with memory, executive function, or organisation are more likely to be drawn back into it. 'Prisons do become warehouses for people who have mental health issues or disability support needs,' Winford says. 'Disability and social exclusion are often connected, and not having appropriate support in the community can lead to contact with the justice system, and then those cycles continue.' In a damning 2023 report, the Victorian auditor general found that the department of justice and community safety did not know how many of its prisoners had an ABI, or how many required support. The department had no method of capturing that information when a person came through the door, and long waitlists for only limited services, the report found. The auditor general recommended the department develop mandatory screening processes to identify prisoners with intellectual disability or ABI, train staff accordingly, and monitor prisons to ensure they complied with the support requirements for people with disability. The Victorian department of justice did not respond to Guardian Australia's request for comment about whether it had implemented recommendations from the auditor-general. Each episode of All Been Inside includes concrete suggestions for helping people with ABI out of the vicious loop of criminalisation. For Haines and Mayne, getting involved with Voices for Change was an integral part of breaking that cycle. 'I found it really difficult at times, but I stuck through it,' Haines says. 'Now I've got this passion, I've got this empathy. I've got so much inside me that I can give back to my community, because I know how much I did wrong and I can't change my past, but what I do today will show the person that I am now.' 'One of the best things I've done in my life is joining that group,' Mayne says. 'People say to me, what's it like to have your life back? I say, well, I haven't got my life back; now I've actually got a life, you know?' In Australia, the National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline is at 1800 250 015; families and friends can seek help at Family Drug Support Australia at 1300 368 186. In the UK, Action on Addiction is available on 0300 330 0659. In the US, call or text SAMHSA's National Helpline at 988
Yahoo
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Elsbeth Lands in Prison! Watch Her Go Head-to-Head with Criminals She Put Behind Bars in Season 2 Finale (Exclusive)
Elsbeth has found herself in a sticky situation — and she has more than one enemy on her cell block. In PEOPLE's exclusive first look at the season 2 finale of Elsbeth, the quirky but talented attorney reports to prison, where she runs into several high-class (and A-list!) criminals — all of whom she's put behind bars for murder. As a security guard leads her to her quarters, she spots many familiar faces, including Joe Dillion (Arian Moayed), a cocktail bar owner she helped arrest in season 1 and theater director, Alex Modarian (Stephen Moyer). Related: Michael Emerson Says It Was 'Weird and Complicated' Being Wife Carrie Preston's Adversary on Elsbeth (Exclusive) While crossing her fingers for a "speedy trial," Elsbeth's jaw drops as she comes face to face with Alex. When he admits he's "flattered" she remembers him, Elsbeth confesses that she would "never forget her first." She and the guard move on and go into the women's division of the prison. Elsbeth turns the corner to see former tech CEO Quinn Powell (Elizabeth Lail) trying to meditate in her cell. "I was just trying to banish you from my thoughts and here you are," Quinn says, surrounded by photos of herself plastered on the wall. Related: Matthew Broderick Is 'So Proud' to Act Alongside Son James Wilkie for the First Time on Elsbeth (Exclusive) After awkwardly saying hello, Elsbeth comments on the surprising amount of personal belongings Quinn possesses before running into decluttering guru Freya Frostad (Mary-Louise Parker). "Even here, the tyranny of materialism reigns," Freya mumbles as the camera pans to reveal she's sharing a room with Dr. Vanessa Holmes (Gina Gershon). "Well, if it isn't the woman who ruined my life," Vanessa quips, to which Elsbeth replies, "I'd argue committing murder did that." Related: Watch Wendell Pierce Joke About Suits Daughter Meghan Markle Getting 'Framed' by Global Press in Elsbeth Preview (Exclusive) When Vanessa hurriedly asks if Quinn mentioned her during her walk past, Elsbeth quickly realizes how much drama there is in prison. "Seems like there's a lot of drama in here, like high school," she remarks, to which Margo Clarke (Retta) states, "What would you expect? Human beings have their needs, Elsbeth." Finally, she walks past former mafia princess Pupetta Del Ponte (Alyssa Milano), who gives her a version of the finger, before she finally makes it to her cell. "Home sweet home," the security guard says as the door shuts behind him. Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. Elsbeth season 2 finale airs Thursday, May 8 at 9 p.m. ET on CBS. Read the original article on People
The Independent
08-05-2025
- The Independent
Lawyers for man executed by firing squad in South Carolina say bullets mostly missed his heart
A man who was put to death last month in South Carolina 's second firing squad execution was conscious and likely in extreme pain for as long as a minute after the bullets, meant to quickly stop his heart, struck him lower than expected, according to a pathologist hired by his attorneys. An autopsy photo of Mikal Mahdi's torso showed only two distinct wounds from the three volunteer prison employees who all had live ammunition in the April 11 execution, according to the pathologist's report, which was filed Thursday with a letter to the state Supreme Court titled 'notice of botched execution.' Prison workers suggested two bullets entered his body at the same spot. 'The shooters missed the intended target area and the evidence indicates that he was struck by only two bullets, not the prescribed three. Consequently, the nature of the internal injuries from the gunshot wounds resulted in a more prolonged death process,' said Dr. Jonathan Arden, a pathologist hired by attorneys for condemned inmates. Arden said that likely meant Mahdi took 30 to 60 seconds to lose consciousness — two to four times longer than the 15 seconds that experts including Arden and ones hired by the state predicted for a properly conducted firing squad execution. During that time Mahdi would have suffered excruciating pain as his lungs tried to expand and move into a broken sternum and ribs, as well as from 'air hunger' as the damaged lungs struggled and failed to bring in needed oxygen, Arden said. Witnesses to the execution heard Mahdi cry out as the shots were fired, groan again some 45 seconds later and let out one last low moan just before he appeared to draw his final breath at 75 seconds. Mahdi, 42, was executed after admitting he killed Orangeburg Public Safety officer James Myers in 2004, shooting him at least eight times before burning his body. Myers' wife found him in the couple's Calhoun County shed, which had been the backdrop to their wedding 15 months earlier. Prison officials have given no indication that there were problems with Mahdi's execution. A shield law keeps many details private, including the training and methods used by the firing squad. The official autopsy did not include X-rays to allow the results to be independently verified; only one photo was taken of Mahdi's body, and no close-ups of the wounds; and his clothing was not examined to determine where the target was placed and how it aligned with the damage the bullets caused to his shirt, Arden said in a report summarizing his findings. 'I noticed where the target was placed on Mikal's torso, and I remember thinking to myself, 'I'm certainly not an expert in human anatomy, but it appears to me that target looks low,'' said David Weiss, an attorney for Mahdi who was also a witness at his death. In the official autopsy report, pathologist Dr. Bradley Marcus wrote that the reason there were only two wounds is that one could have been caused by two bullets entering the body at the same spot. Marcus said he spoke to an unnamed prison official who reported that when the three volunteer firing squad members practice, sometimes their targets end up with just one or two holes from three live rounds. Arden called that virtually unheard of in his 40 years of examining dead bodies and said Marcus told him in a conversation that the possibility was remote. The autopsy found damage in only one of the four chambers of Mahdi's heart — the right ventricle. There was extensive damage to his liver and pancreas as the bullets continued down. 'The entrance wounds were at the lowest area of the chest, just above the border with the abdomen, which is an area not largely overlying the heart,' Arden wrote. In their conversation Marcus also said the severe amount of liver damage was not anticipated and he 'expected the entrance wounds to be higher on the chest,' Arden wrote in his report. In contrast the autopsy on Brad Sigmon, the first man killed by firing squad in the state, showed three distinct bullet wounds and his heart was obliterated, Arden said. He added that the autopsy report in that case included X-rays, adequate photos and a cursory examination of his clothes. Without X-rays or other internal scans to follow the path of the bullets through Mahdi's body, no additional light could be shed on the two-bullets-through-one-hole claim, Arden said. Weiss said he was stunned that so little was done in the autopsy even after the pathologist saw only two holes in his chest. The apparent errors in how the execution was carried out are a major problem, he asserted. 'His heart was missed, and in all likelihood only two out of three shots were fired,' Weiss said. 'And I think that raises incredibly difficult questions about the type of training and oversight that is going into this process.' 'It was obvious to me as a lay person upon reading his autopsy report that something went wrong here. We should want to figure out what it was that went wrong when you've got state government carrying out the most serious, most grave possible type of function,' Weiss said. Mahdi's body was cremated preventing a second autopsy, Weiss said. South Carolina allows condemned inmates to choose whether to die by lethal injection, electric chair or firing squad. Three in the past year have chosen lethal injection, but the past two opted for the firing squad, saying they feared the other methods — autopsies have shown that lethal injection causes a rush of fluid into the lungs, and burns have been found on bodies after electrocutions. Twenty-six people remain on South Carolina's death row. Stephen Stanko, who has two death sentences for murders in Horry County and Georgetown County, has run out of appeals and likely will be scheduled to die in June.
