Wed. Nov 13th, 2024

Interior cell blocks at Waupun prison in 1893. (Photo courtesy of the Wisconsin Historical Society)

While her husband spent about five months in the Polk County Jail, Rebecca Aubart spent close to $4,000 on calls and video visits. They talked at least twice a day, she said. 

“My husband was experiencing significant withdrawals and fighting for his life in the midst of a mental health crisis while he was there,” Aubart said. “I did not have the money at the time, and put the $3800+ on credit cards. The real cost of that is still unknown.”

Aubart’s husband is currently incarcerated at a minimum security prison, she said. She talks to him three to five times a day depending on if she works or not. She estimated that she spends $100 a month, plus $50 a month for his son’s account.

Aubart is the executive director of a prison reform advocacy group, the Ladies of Solutions, Change and Innovation. She said every loved one of an incarcerated person she knows has felt a significant impact from the financial burdens of incarceration and mothers with kids have it worse. 

In late 2021 in Wisconsin, the average cost for a 15-minute call from a local jail in the U.S. was $3, according to the Prison Policy Initiative (PPI), a research and advocacy nonprofit. In Wisconsin state prisons, the cost was 90 cents in 2021. 

In July, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) voted to enact new rules that affect the cost incarcerated people and their families pay for phone and video calls. A 15-minute phone call can cost an incarcerated person as much as $11.35 in large jails and can cost $12.10 in small jails, according to the FCC’s statement. 

Under the new rules, the cost of a 15-minute call at large jails and prisons will be capped at 90 cents. Calls at smaller jails will cost more, with jails of less than 100 people charging twice as much per minute. 

For the overwhelming majority of people, the current cost per minute limits will fall by over half, the FCC said. The timeline for bringing prisons and jails into compliance with the new caps starts next year and could extend into 2026. 

In the weeks before the vote, the American Jail Association (AJA) asked the FCC to reconsider. While the association supported making phone call rates more accessible, they disagreed with the commission’s stance. The AJA said jails will face challenges in maintaining essential programs without the revenue from phone charges, including services for incarcerated people. 

“If jails cannot cover their expenses through inmate call rates, taxpayers will inevitably bear the burden through increased taxes or an unnecessary reallocation of general funds,” the AJA said.

Wanda Bertram, communications strategist for the Prison Policy Initiative (PPI), said the FCC decision is a “massive, massive victory.” Aside from the limits on the cost per minute, she noted the FCC’s decision to ban added fees for families. 

Correctional facilities will take a financial hit under the FCC’s order, but incarcerated people and their families will save money, Bertram said.

Bertram said that often, prisons and jails put revenue from phone calls into an inmate welfare fund. The PPI released a report and said that inmate welfare funds for the prisons studied were “all too often” used for “capital projects, such as prison construction, or for basic essentials for incarcerated people.” Bertram said companies upcharge incarcerated people for other technologies, such as music. 

Restriction on commissions may lead to more expensive video calls in Wisconsin prisons

Randy Knapp lives 210 miles away from the Green Bay Correctional Institution, where his son Devon is incarcerated. Each month, Randy and Stacy Knapp deposit money — usually about $100 — into an account so they can talk to their son Devon.

Devon’s parents provide advice and serve as a sounding board for their son, who has not been able to receive counseling during his time at the prison, his father said.

“I work one full-time job and one part-time job to try to make ends meet, just for our family here,” Randy Knapp said. “Then you add those other costs to it, it’s just difficult.”

He added that he visits his son less often due to the long drive and has turned to video visits. The new rules introduce interim caps on video visitation calls and decrease the cost of the calls to less than a quarter of current prices, the FCC said. But it appears possible that the new rules will lead to the cost of video calls rising instead of falling for incarcerated people in Wisconsin prisons. 

Inmate Calling Solutions (ICSolutions) provides telephone and video visitation for incarcerated people under the Wisconsin Department of Corrections (DOC), said Beth Hardtke, communications director for the DOC. The company charges 1 cent per minute for juvenile facilities and 6 cents per minute for adult facilities, Hardtke said. This aligns with the new FCC rules. 

ICSolutions charges $5 for each 25-minute video visit, she said. The DOC pays half of the cost of a video visit, while incarcerated people and their families pay the other $2.50. 

To pay their half, the DOC uses money from a commission paid by ICSolutions, Hardtke said. ICSolutions keeps the revenue from juvenile facilities, but the company pays DOC 4 cents per minute for adult institutions.

The new FCC rules don’t allow commissions, Hardtke said. She said the commission is what allows the department to pay for half of the cost of video visitation, but she said it’s too early to answer whether the cost of a 25-minute call will remain at $2.50. 

Once the new rules go into effect, families can’t be charged the full $5 for a 25-minute video visit. The maximum cost of a 25-minute video visit at a prison would be $4, which would be $1.50 more than the current price. 

It’s also possible that the FCC caps on video calls will change. In a PPI article, Bertram said these are interim caps, which function as placeholders as FCC decides on permanent limits. 

Under state law, two-thirds of the commission from ICSolutions goes to the Department of Administration, while the other third goes to the DOC, Hardtke said. In fiscal year 2024, ICSolutions paid the DOC nearly $6.3 million in commission, she said. 

The DOC took in nearly $2.1 million of that, which “must be spent on services that directly benefit persons in our care.” Hardtke listed ways the DOC uses the commission money, including personal clothing washers/dryers for incarcerated people, unit repairs, paint, chairs, recreation equipment, translation services, ADA accommodation items and stipends or mileage for volunteers providing religious services. 

Hardtke said it is too early to answer what impact the loss of commission revenue will have on the services she listed. She said the DOC “is still studying the FCC’s new rules to fully understand their impact.”

Bertram of the Prison Policy Initiative said that due to the new rules, companies’ ability to pay commissions to jails and prisons has been “greatly curtailed.”  She praised the FCC’s decision, saying the commissions are “kickbacks.”

“And what that has led to is this really poisonous dynamic where the counties will choose companies based on which company is going to offer the most in kickbacks,” Bertram said, “as opposed to which company is going to offer the best service or the most cost-effective service for the consumers.”

An article published by the PPI in 2021 said the commission for Polk County, where Aubart’s husband spent five months in jail, was 44%. Aubart sent the Examiner the county’s contract with ICSolutions dated Jan.10 of this year, which said the commission was 60% for call revenue. 

“They’re basically profiting off of our phone calls in Polk County,” Aubart said. 

Phone and video calls reduce further crime, provide support

“This is not just a strain on the household budget,” FCC Chairwoman Jessica Rosenworcel said about the cost of a call in a statement. “It harms all of us because regular contact with family can reduce recidivism.”

When an incarcerated person needs but lacks access to mental health help or drug treatment, Aubart said, that role falls to their family.

“We’ve done counseling together from stuff that I did online,” Aubart said. “We do [Narcotics Anonymous] together, because there is no drug treatment, and he’s surrounded by drugs. It’s not as bad in Chippewa, but there’s still drugs there. And when he was at Stanley [Correctional Institution]… he could get three or four different kinds of drugs every single day. And so the only thing keeping him sober was us.”

GET THE MORNING HEADLINES DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX

By