Att’y: prisons lag in COVID release
A corrections officer at Eastern Correctional Facility in upstate New York pulled Cathy Citro aside in October to deliver some long-awaited news: She was about to be released from prison.
The 63-year-old woman, who is transgender, had received a call from her lawyer in mid-September informing her she was eligible for early release — part of a pandemic plan to help some inmates get out of the system sooner and curb the spread of COVID-19.
Yet Citro, who suffers from high blood pressure, diabetes, asthma and other health issues, waited 26 days before she was actually let out Oct. 13 — leaving her fearful she could still contract coronavirus behind bars.
“I said to myself, ‘ My god, could you imagine if they’re going to release me and within the time they are waiting to get me out I wind up a dead,’ ” said Citro, who was serving time for credit card fraud at an all-male facility.
“I was really, really emotional and I started crying,” Citro told the Daily News of the day she knew she was finally getting out. “[The officer] said relax, sit down, he even made me a cup of coffee.
“Then I ran out to the yard and I told my friends and they all started getting emotional right along with me. And then I felt bad because I was going to be leaving them (behind).”
While the Department of Corrections and Community Supervision has released over 3,480 people to stem the spreading virus — over two-thirds of whom were within 90 days of getting out — some say the state needs to act with greater urgency and get people out of prison as soon as they’re eligible for release.
“(The state is) certainly not making (these decisions) very quickly and certainly not at the 90-day mark, which is when we all understood that this would be happening,” said Erin Harrist, Supervising Attorney of the LGBTQ+ Unit at the Legal Aid Society.
“There’s an enormous amount of delay, and it’s leading to a lot of anxiety for people who are inside,” she added. “It seems to be … a problem that really needs to be resolved as we go into a second wave.”
The state Corrections Department did not provide numbers on how many people in prison are currently eligible for early release. But spokesman Thomas Mailey said the agency is following protocol when it comes to getting people out.
“Any claim that DOCCS is not abiding by the established early release criteria is false,” he said. “The department conducts a thorough investigation on each eligible individual to ensure the person has adequate and appropriate housing and, if needed, access to treatment programs prior to release to the community.
“The department generates lists of potentially eligible individuals based on the criteria, including being committed on nonviolent, nonsex offenses and were within 90 days of their approved release date, and that list is then reviewed,” he added.
Part of the problem, the attorney Harrist said, is talks with the agency regarding early releases have stalled in recent months compared to earlier in the pandemic.
“In the beginning … there was some better communication between DOCCS and advocates,” she said. “Now the communication is almost non-existent — which comes across as a lack of compassion for these people who are really trying to go home.”
Harrist noted that one area of confusion has been figuring out what proof of housing the department needs to see in order to approve release.
“(I’ll ask) ’How can I make sure that my client gets out?’ and they just won’t tell you,” said Harrist, who has other clients with health issues currently behind bars even though they’re eligible for release. “So you have to guess, and it’s frightening for those who are waiting.”
As of Tuesday, 1,921 prisoners, 139 parolees and 2,064 Corrections Department staffers have contracted COVID-19. Twenty-two prisoners and parolees, along with six staffers, have died from the disease.
Over a month after her release, Citro received a call from a 67-year-old friend back at Eastern Correctional Facility who dialed her to deliver some good news.
“He’s coming home within four weeks,” Citro said of the Dec. 3 phone call, breaking down into tears as she spoke. “We both cried on the phone. I told him I would meet him at the Port Authority Bus Terminal and buy him lunch.”