3 inmates win right to let hair grow long
Three Native American inmates bested the Texas prison system in a lawsuit over religious liberties, winning the right to let their hair grow long despite arguments from state attorneys that it would pose a security risk and make it easier for inmates to escape from an understaffed facility.
The trio of longtime prisoners at the McConnell Unit sued the Texas Department of Criminal Justice in federal court, arguing that their Native American spiritual beliefs regard hair as an extension of the soul, something to be cut only when in mourning. The prison system’s rules requiring men to keep short hair or face disciplinary consequences, the inmates and their attorneys argued, were an unfair violation of religious freedom
“Religious liberty is a bedrock value,” said Rob Ellis, one of the lawyers who represented the inmates. “It’s also a nonpartisan issue so it’s especially important for minority groups like Native Americans whose views aren’t as wellknown or accepted.”
Even though female prisoners are allowed to have long hair, attor-
neys for the state claimed that letting men do the same would cost too much money to police, that prisoners would get too hot in uncooled facilities, that it would make identifying inmates harder and that it could increase the number of inmate suicides.
But after a three-day bench trial last year, U.S. District Judge Nelva Gonzales Ramos in Corpus Christi rejected those arguments.
“While we do not agree with the finding of this court, we fully respect the legal process,” said prison spokesman Jeremy Desel, adding that the department was exploring the possibility of appeals.
Legally, the outcome of the case only impacts the three prisoners involved — but the same arguments
could apply to future lawsuits involving any of the more than 5,000 other Native Americans spread across the state’s 104 prisons.
Religious beliefs
The case first started in 2012, when Teddy Norris Grey Hawk Davis filed a lawsuit — without an attorney — in a Corpus Christi federal court. Later, other inmates at the Beeville prison joined the case and eventually the court agreed to appoint them all lawyers.
Even after Davis got out of prison, the rest of the men continued with their lawsuit. Now, the lead plaintiff is 55-year-old Robbie Dow Goodman, a Cherokee man from the Panhandle.
Raymond Cobb, a 42year-old Walker County man of Native American descent, joined the case more recently as did 59-year-old William Casey, a Cherokee man who’s now in a wheelchair.
They’ve all been behind bars for decades, serving time for serious crimes like murder and sexual assault. Now, they’re all aging, and haven’t caught major disciplinary fractions in years.
And, in accordance with their religious beliefs, all three of the men realized they wanted to grow their hair long. Cobb wanted a braid, to avoid risking rejection from his ancestors when “crossing over” after death. Casey, meanwhile, believed his long hair gave him strength and Goodman said it connected him to his Creator.
“It’s just like the roots of a tree,” he said at trial. “It connects us.”
Being forced to cut his hair feels like “getting beat up.”
But prison policy mandates that male inmates have to keep their hair cut short around the ears or face disciplinary consequences
such as loss of recreation or commissary privileges.
That’s why the men filed suit under the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act, a federal law that protects prisoners’ rights of free worship.
To raise a legal claim under that act, prisoners’ beliefs have to be sincere; to fight a claim filed under the act, the state has to show compelling governmental interest for prohibiting the expression of religion, such as proof of a credible security risk.
State opposition
State attorneys didn’t dispute the sincerity of the prisoners’ beliefs, but during trial, they raised a number of concerns. For one, officials worried about the possibility that inmates could hide contraband in long hair — and the contraband men smuggle tends to be more dangerous than the
contraband women smuggle, attorneys argued.
“Although both male and female offenders have been caught with all types of contraband, the types of contraband that female offenders are most commonly caught with is cosmetics,” the state wrote in court filings. “Male offenders are much more likely to smuggle contraband that is dangerous, such as cellphones, drugs, and sharpened weapons intended for stabbing.”
On top of that, the department claimed, long hair can be dangerous in fights, if one inmate grabs another’s head. It can symbolize gang affiliation, harbor lice or increase the odds of overheating in uncooled prison units. And, officials fretted over whether long hair could increase suicide risk, because one time a woman in prison tried to smother herself with her own hair.
But the biggest concerns state attorneys raised centered around their ability to identify prisoners in large facilities and to adequately search them at understaffed units. The added time to search inmates, the state argued, would throw off the whole day’s schedule.
“When one activity or task takes longer than the time allotted for it,” attorneys wrote, “it has a domino effect and can affect the schedule for the entire day.”
Despite all those possible problems, women are allowed to have long hair — and it doesn’t require extra staffing to handle their hair.
The judge took the prisoners’ side in January when she issued 23-page signed findings requiring the prison system to let the men wear their hair long, “even if it requires TDCJ to expend more resources to manage the male inmates that desire to wear long hair as a religious practice.”