Inquest offers look inside the Barton jail
A long-awaited inquest into the drug-related deaths of eight inmates at the Hamilton Wentworth Detention Centre is offering a rare glimpse inside the inner workings of the Barton Street jail.
The inquest, which began Monday and is expected to last six weeks, is examining the deaths of Louis Unelli, William Acheson, Trevor Burke, Marty Tykoliz, Stephen Neeson, David Gillan, Julien Walton and Peter McNelis. At its conclusion, the five-person jury can make recommendations to prevent similar deaths.
Over the first three days, what has emerged is a clearer picture of how the detention centre operates — or is supposed to operate — from the layout, to security, to how inmates access contraband.
The Barton jail is a provincially run, maximum-security detention centre that functions as a remand centre — where people go after they’ve been charged and are awaiting trial. The jail cannot refuse anyone, leading to frequent overcrowding, often sitting between 400 and 500 inmates.
When inmates arrive at the jail, they go through this security: metal detector, frisk search, fully body scanner, strip search (no touching), shower and change into institutional clothing, BOSS (body orifice security scanner) chairs to detect metal hidden in body cavities, and then they’re classified to one of 29 areas and sent to their cells.
“Everyone gets the same search,” said Staff Sgt. Michael DuCheneau, who is a jail manager.
Inmates have the right to refuse searches, but inmates who refuse are placed in a “dry cell” — completely stripped down with no ability to flush the toilet — in segregation until they void anything that might be hidden inside.
But it’s no secret drugs still circulate and inmates continue to overdose.
DuCheneau listed the top four ways drugs get in:
• hidden inside an inmate’s body cavity (the most common);
• packages thrown over the jail wall;
• hidden inside deliveries;
• smuggled in by staff or volunteers.
It used to be common that inmates would conceal drugs inside a plastic Kinder Egg, hidden in a body orifice. But since the September 2016 introduction of the full body scanner — essentially an X-ray that shows inside a person’s body — DuCheneau said they’re catching a lot more.
He was reluctant to explain how inmates get drugs past security. However, sources tell The Spectator drugs are often concealed by being shaped to look like fecal matter, often wrapped in carbon paper and hidden in the rectum.
Correctional officers do not go through the security steps.
The jail is made up of three towers — A, B and C — that mirror each other but have their own air and water, DuCheneau explained. They are six storeys high, but the top level is a mechanical penthouse that does not house inmates.
Floors three to five are mostly identical general population living units. If every bed is full and there is a mattress on every cell floor, it amounts to 72 inmates being supervised by two correction officers in each unit. There are 196 correctional officers in total, but DuCheneau wouldn’t specify how many work at a time for “security reasons.”
The inquest heard correctional officers do not have access to security cameras, but do regular rounds where their movements are tracked through an electronic wand they carry.
There are two fish-eye cameras positioned at the front and back of each day use area that managers can access. In the security office, two officers monitor cameras positioned around the exterior of the building.
This is how a typical day in general population goes — breakfast in cells, out at 9 a.m. until 11 or 11:30 a.m., when they’re locked back in cells for lunch. After an hour, they’re back out on the range until around 4 or 4:30 p.m., when they’re locked in for dinner. Then they’re back out again until cells are locked for the night at 8 p.m.
DuCheneau said it has long been the practice for inmates to eat in their cells because of others strong-arming food away in the past. Meals are delivered through a hatch.
Inmates in segregation, sometimes for their own protection and sometimes as punishment for misconduct, are locked in their cell 23 hours a day. During a security “lock down,” everyone is locked in their cell.
Other specialized units include 2A, which has 12 segregation cells where inmates on suicide watch, for instance, are held. It is the only unit where there are cameras in cells.
Female inmates only make up about 20 per cent of the population and are housed separately. There is also a separate accessibility unit for those with mobility issues and a mental health unit that includes access to specially trained nurses.
Once drugs or other contraband get in the jail, there are many ways inmates pass it around, including a method called “fishing,” DuCheneau explained during the inquest. Basically inmates tear a strip from bedding and place a weight at the end, made of anything from a wad of wet toilet paper to a bar of soap. Inmates then “fish” with the line by throwing under doors and between cells.
Correctional officers do “randomized, routine” searches of cells, and will do an extra search after any critical incident.
The medical staff, which includes nurses who do rounds four times a day to administer medication, are housed separately where all medical files are secured.
There is supposed to be one doctor at the jail every day of the week, plus available by phone on the weekend.
All new patients are supposed to see the doctor within 48 hours, but health-care services manager Angela DiMarco said they often fall short on this.
There are other social work and medical staff including psychiatrist Dr. Mikhail Epelbaum, who, the inquest heard, is the only doctor who prescribes methadone — a medication for opioid addiction that the inquest has heard is nearly impossible for inmates to access unless they were already prescribed before being arrested.
The inquest resumes at the Hamilton Plaza Hotel and Conference Centre at 1 p.m. Monday.