Today's prison phone systems can recognize individual inmates and track whom and when they call and what they say. It's not just the punishers who want sophisticated telephone tools, either: Prisoners themselves want the most basic telephone services that many Americans now take for granted.
Now the twin demands of security and family communication in prisons nationwide have given birth to tests of expensive systems, including voice recognition and videoconferencing. But the problem with high tech is that it's also high cost, and the question of who's paying the bill has made modern prison phones a contentious issue with phone companies, activists, and the FCC alike.
The visiting room in Missouri's Jefferson City Correctional Center recalls a high school cafeteria: independent round tables, soda and candy vending machines, and couples conversing quietly. To gain access to the room, visitors must first pass an extended approval process, including jumping through manifold bureaucratic hoops and completing a background check. Then, under the eye of guards, inmates are given their only contact with their loved ones, families, and lawyers in a strange traffic of privacies.
But in an air-conditioned, soundproof room down the hall, inmates can now slip out of prison, if only virtually, straight into a booth at the local Kinko's. Introduced in May, the Correction Connection Video Visitation program, developed by Kinko's, Sprint, and the state of Missouri at three separate correctional facilities, gives prisoners the ability to access their kith and kin by videoconferencing with them over a dedicated 384 KBps line, at 30 frames a second.
High tech, high cost
Though pricey at US$33.75 for 15 minutes, the service has distinct advantages for both the inmates and staff. With three days notice and no paperwork, up to five visitors can set up a meeting time, compared to three allowed in an on-site contact visit. In terms of security, "obviously, during videoconferencing there would be less chance for people to pass contraband," says Missouri corrections spokesman Tim Kniest.
Prison and telecom officials have lauded the system as a cheaper way for families to keep in touch with distant inmate relatives. But the reality has been that the videoconferencing is still too costly for many families, and instead has been primarily used by lawyers who want to avoid long trips to see inmate clients.
"It's not having overwhelming usage," says Tom Gibbons, national sales manager for Inmate Services at Sprint - which translates into only five inmates using the system in the past five months. "We always thought the biggest usage for videoconferencing would be for prisoners out of state." Sprint was hoping that Texas would be a good source for the service, with their high out-of-state prisoner ratio; unfortunately, those prisoners were removed from Texas jails when a video revealed the abuse that prison guards in Brazoria, Texas, regularly showered on such inmates.
Regardless of videoconferencing's success, digital prison telephone systems have been a boon for telephone companies and states alike. The systems are set up by carriers like Sprint and AT&T, which license them from technology companies like T-Netix and Gateway. Each prisoner is assigned an ID number that's required to make outside calls. They are then allowed to call only a pre-approved list of 10 phone numbers, and all calls are monitored, recorded, and interrupted periodically with a recorded message that informs listeners that the call is being made from a prison. All calls have to be made collect, third-party calls are sometimes prevented, and no 800-numbers are allowed.
Another telephone system created by T-Netix, currently in beta at three prisons in Colorado, is exploring the potential for voice-recognition systems. Instead of using punchpad PIN numbers, the telephone uses an algorithm called Speakeasy Verification to identify the voice of the inmate before allowing him to use the telephone. The hope is that the system will decrease telephone fraud.
"The difference is that if I have your PIN number, I'm you. Prisoners steal PIN numbers all the time; it's like cigarettes, they use it for bartering," explains T-Netix VP of marketing Pat Flannery. "With voice verification, you are your PIN number."
For whom the bill tolls
But the fancy systems come at a cost. The phone company that gets a state's prison contract is the one which offers the "best commission rate" to the state - Florida, for example, collects 57 percent of all money made on calls from prisons. This becomes a "surcharge," raising the prices for the inmate phone calls. Combined with the costs of installing and monitoring the high-tech phone systems, you get jacked-up phone prices - families report regularly paying $7.50 for a 15-minute local phone call, though it varies from state to state.
Who's paying the bill? The prison inmates' families say it's them, and have complained to both the states and the FCC about what they consider unfair phone gouging. The FCC is currently investigating the interstate prison phone system.
"We're being charged an exorbitant amount - you have to call collect, and the state gets a kickback into the state general fund," says Edna Silvestri, director of the Missouri chapter of the inmate advocacy group CURE, and wife of an inmate. "My husband tries to keep my phone bill down because I can't afford it, but my bill is still $100 a month."
Meanwhile, the phone companies complain that they're not making money, since the state both regulates the phone pricing and takes a large chunk of profits as a commission. They also claim that the cost issue is out of their hands - the state lays out the system requirements, and competitiveness for the contracts means that profit margins are tight.
Still, prison officials and phone companies point out that phone calls are privilege, not a right, for inmates, so inmates shouldn't complain. They also note that the telephone technology is in place because of the shenanigans that go on regularly within prison systems. Inmates have been known to run drug operations and internal contraband rings, organize jailbreaks, and even record albums via prison pay phones - often via third-party lines conferenced in by a legitimate number.
"That's the major thing prisons are trying to stop - prisoners coming into the system and thinking it's just business as usual," says Gibbons of Sprint. "All inmates must face restrictions because some inmates didn't follow the rules."
