How much do you know about the rebranding of solitary confinement in Virginia? Now called “restorative housing,” the policy continues the troubling legacy of indefinite isolation.
Red Onion Supermax State Prison, Virginia
Restorative housing has resurfaced in the public eye amid alarming reports in mid-November 2024. Over just two weeks, a dozen incarcerated Black men horrifically self-immolated. More men had voluntarily set themselves on fire in the months leading up to this. Journalists and activists are still working to determine an accurate count despite the Virginia Department of Corrections (VADOC) reluctance to disclose information.
The self-immolations at Red Onion prison are a desperate response to the intolerable racism, abuse, and inhumane conditions the incarcerated face – whether as a means of ending their suffering through suicide or as an anguished attempt to be transferred to the VCU hospital four hours away. Although limited in detail, these exposés have been essential in whistleblowing the facility’s operations. The contrast between the disturbing concerns raised in these reports and Red Onion's reputation as a leading supermax facility (pp.2-3) is both stark and deeply troubling. In this article, I will outline my theory on how we arrived at this point—how a facility like Red Onion, which has faced harrowing whistleblower reports since its first year of operation, has fostered an environment where self-immolation has supplanted hunger strikes as the primary plea for public accountability.
Background
"The day I arrived I was...told that I was at Red Onion now and if I acted up they would kill me and there was nothing anyone could or would do about it.”
— Statement to Human Rights Watch, 1999
Red Onion (RO) was established in 1998 amid the tough-on-crime movement in Virginia. The supermax prison was intentionally designed to confine over 1,000 incarcerated individuals —the worst of the worst —for 23-24 hours a day in order to separate them from the public, correctional officers, and the general prison population.
The projected incarceration of 2,400 chronically dangerous individuals (including those at its counterpart, Wallens Ridge State Prison) never materialized. As a result, Red Onion encouraged a surplus of transfers to fill its empty beds. Often, individuals were relocated, regardless of their original conviction, as punishment for behavior infractions at their previous correctional institution. This influx of inmates played a key role in mitigating the rise in unemployment in Wise County following the decline of the area's coal mining industry, with more than 3,000 people applying for about 400 available jobs.
At Red Onion, each individual is placed in an 8-by-10 cell—narrower and shorter than a parking space, with a ceiling just above the height of a standard door. This kind of isolation, where individuals are limited to their cell for 23 hours a day, is known as solitary confinement or segregation. RO provides three justifications for segregation: when an individual's safety is at risk, when they pose a threat to others, or when they disrupt the institution's orderly operation. Correctional Officers (COs) have full discretionary power to impose segregation. For example, if an individual engages in a physical altercation with RO staff, Virginia Department of Corrections (VADOC) procedures deem it a threat to others and a disruption to prison order—which is immediate grounds for segregation (p.2). The most appalling aspect is the indefinite duration of their confinement. The detainee never knows whether or when they will be released from solitary. As their time in segregation increases, their psychological and mental condition deteriorates.
Solitary’s New Name
Around 2016, the VADOC shifted its language from segregation to restrictive housing in order to soften its connotation in public records and discussions. Under the American Correctional Association, whose guidelines the VADOC must follow, restrictive housing is 23 to 24 hours of confinement per day. As such, the new label offered no meaningful difference from the practice of segregation.
Three years later, in 2020, Virginia replaced the restrictive housing program with restorative housing units. VADOC argues that restorative housing is technically distinct by offering two additional hours of out-of-cell time (p.4). While framed as a progressive reform, individuals remain confined for 21-22 hours of their day under this program. By 2021, VADOC formally updated its operating procedures accordingly (p.22). Steadfast in their transformation, they announced that this organizational shift to restorative housing is definite, meant to emphasize personal inmate accountability, meaningful out-of-cell time for programming, and safe transitions into the general population (p.4).
VADOC claims these objectives are achieved through the Step-Down Program. This program, designed to address behavioral expectations, allows inmates in a restorative housing unit to gradually transition back into the general population by advancing through phases of fewer restrictions. Evaluators weigh factors like behavior, personal hygiene, cell compliance, and interactions with staff and fellow inmates (p.2). VADOC admits that this program provides articulable standards— unlike previous restrictive housing measures (p.2)—and led to a significant culture change (p.8).
Despite this step, it’s crucial to emphasize that the rehabilitative ho using program remains fundamentally aligned with the framework of its retributive predecessors. The portrayal presented by VADOC is distorted. Incarcerated individuals are still confined to an 8-by-10 cell for 21 to 22 hours a day. Entry into the step-down program is discretionary, with months or even years of appeals from those in isolation going unapproved. A 2023 VADOC report confirmed that on June 30th, only 50 out of the 259 individuals in rehabilitative housing at the time were participants in the step-down program (p.6). Even after admission, individuals face the inconsistent judgments of COs who wield total authority over their progress.
It’s Not Punishment...Except When It Is
Solitary confinement is widely recognized as a form of torture, particularly when the confinement period is 22 hours per day for more than 15 days straight. In March 2017, the US Attorney General recommended significantly limiting the use of restrictive housing as a form of punishment. By October 2019, the VADOC revised its operational procedure to incorporate language prohibiting punishment via placement in restrictive housing (p.98). In 2020, the department affirmed that restorative housing is motivated by a public-spirited intention to maintain order by protecting incarcerated individuals from themselves, their peers, staff, and the broader public (p.4).
However, confinement still spawns a devastating mental unraveling. The incontrovertible fact is that it inevitably exacerbates or triggers severe mental health issues—ranging from the recurrence of preexisting conditions to the onset of new, acute disorders. Given these effects, conflict with correctional officers becomes an almost inescapable reality.
As a result, the punishment for such conflict—the prospect of being put back into ‘rehabilitative’ housing—sends them back to an indefinite sentence of isolation, undoing any progress made in their step-down program. This cycle intensifies their psychological deterioration, exacerbating their distress and further entrenching the dehumanizing nature of their imprisonment.
From Legislative Scrutiny to Commemorative Recognition
In March 2014, the Virginia General Assembly formally commended the VADOC for its operational improvements (SJR 184). The sponsors of this resolution, Senator Ebbin and Delegate Hope, had previously been among the harshest critics of the department’s practices. Just two years earlier, in 2012, they sponsored legislation (HJ 126 and SJ 93) that called for a Joint Legislative Audit and Review Commission (JLARC) study on the VADOC’s use of solitary confinement—an essential legislative step in paving the way for future reform. It’s unclear what changed their minds in those two years—an uncertainty that underscores an intriguing question for future research. My strong suspicion, however, is that this shift in public opinion is tactfully linked to VADOC’s authority over research into its operations.
The Weight of Compliance
Regulations directing the Human Subject Research Review Committee (HSRRC) were dramatically altered in December 2013, a year after the department faced growing scrutiny from legislators and bureaucrats. The revisions required that all research involving human subjects within the VADOC comply both with federal law and VADOC policies—policies that can be changed at any time for any reason.
While the Code of Virginia § 32.1-162.19 prohibits members of HSRRCs from being directly involved in administrative approval authority, the 2013 regulatory restructuring placed all human subject research related to VADOC under the HSRRCs control by granting it complete discretion in authorizing research projects. The screenshot below illustrates the language change, highlighting some examples of the department’s unique authority.
Click to view examples of the language change that highlights the department's unique authority
Official reports that are essential for the development of reform legislation are now subject to being roadblocked by the department. Can you see how these pieces begin to align? To better understand the extent of VADOC’s autonomy, consider the new definition of HSRRC:
(i) reviewing all submitted research projects for completeness and compliance, with the Regulations for Human Subject Research, with all applicable Department of Corrections operating procedures, and with all applicable state and federal regulations pertaining to human subject research; (ii) approving or denying submitted research proposals; (iii) monitoring all approved research projects for adherence to the scope of the research that was approved; and (iv) reporting on all research projects approved, all research projects denied and the findings of all approved research projects.” |
Other key regulatory changes are implemented as well. The HSRRC is reduced from five to three members. All members are appointed by the VADOC, with only one required to have no affiliations or family ties to the department. This ensures that the two DOC-affiliated members can always outvote the single independent representative. The HSRRC can also assess the acceptability of research proposals based on community attitudes—a broad criterion open to interpretation. The HSRRC reserves the right to terminate the research project at any time if it determines that DOC operating procedures are violated. Most notably, research conducted by DOC agents is considered department property and cannot be published without the approval of the VADOC Director. Even if a project clears the HSRRC’s review, the VADOC Director can block the final publication at their discretion. This is particularly significant given that agents of the VADOC are typically the authors of statutorily mandated research reports to the public.
Regulations in Operation
In April 2022, SB 108 was signed into law, requiring a work group report on restorative housing with at least three representatives from the VADOC, the Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ), and the Virginia Coalition on Solitary Confinement (VACSC). By December, the workgroup was to submit its findings and recommendations on how the department may reduce its use of restorative housing.
VACSC, the only non-DOC organization in this workgroup, sought to ensure the research findings were accessible to external parties in order to inform policy debates and discussions. To prevent the final report from being limited to internal VADOC use while ensuring compliance with federal law, VACSC repeatedly attempted to connect the workgroup with a pro bono Institutional Review Board (IRB).
VADOC flatly refused, citing its own HSRRC’s operating procedure. VACSC begrudgingly compromised and agreed to allow the VADOC HSRRC to supervise and ensure that the conduction of human subject research is appropriate. A few days later, the VADOC announced that it would not allow oversight of the study, even by its own HSRRC. The committee—which has only three members—decided that an IRB was unnecessary since the project did not trigger the review thresholds set by its guidelines.
VADOC argued that no laws were violated, despite VACSC’s repeated insistence on the legal necessity for oversight by a federally and state-mandated Institutional Review Board (IRB). VACSC's position was backed by unanimous agreement from its lawyers and researchers. As a result, VACSC suspended its participation in the study, formally expressing its objections in an official statement at the beginning of the final report to the General Assembly (pp.5-6). Despite the challenges in passing SB 108 and its original intent, the research report was primarily authored by the VADOC.
Click to see SB108's legislative history:
The failed implementation of SB108 wholly demonstrates how VADOC utilizes niche regulatory language to retain control over research into their practices (in this case, restrictive housing).
I must concede, however, that it is speculative to suggest the 2013 regulatory overhaul was, at least in part, a response to the growing scrutiny and political pressure to expose the realities of segregation and restorative housing. Red Onion, in particular, has been the subject of numerous whistleblower reports highlighting its inhumane practices, dating back to its first operational year. While I can offer insights based on publicly available reports, I must acknowledge that I lack direct experience with the institutions or organizations I've referenced.
Full Circle: Where We Are Now
Within two weeks in November 2024, a dozen incarcerated Black men self-immolated in an act of sheer desperation—and this is just scratching the surface. The exact number of recent self-immolations remains unclear, as Red Onion has remained tight-lipped, merely stating that “only six inmates…have burned themselves.” These men are choosing to endure one of the most excruciatingly painful ways to die—or, if they survive, to live with permanent and devastating damage. It’s crucial to remember that most of those incarcerated at Red Onion are not there for violent crimes but because, in moments of complete detachment, they snapped—lashing out at a correctional officer in a state of desolate indifference to the consequences, reflecting the soul-crushing dejection within the walls of correctional facilities. The distinction between a violent criminal conviction, decided by a judge and jury, and a behavioral infraction, determined solely by COs, must not be underestimated.
These self-immolations are not solely cries for help—they are the outcomes of a tangled web of laws, regulations, and operating procedures buried within layers of bureaucratic documentation. The regulatory overhaul of 2013 fortifies this reality by granting VADOC the authority to restrict access to key data on its practices. Lawmakers are thus stumped, unable to gather the crucial figures they need to drive meaningful policy reform.
Instead, they and the public are lured by an inconspicuous Trojan horse. Restorative housing is not significantly more holistic than previous practices like restrictive housing, segregation, or solitary confinement. The primary distinction is simply a reduction of two hours in daily isolation. Yet, a technical definition creates the illusion that individuals are not still subjected to solitary confinement for 20 to 21 hours a day, with no clear timeline for release.
Decoding the System: The Power of Critical Inquiry
These are only some of the interlocking pieces that work in tandem to obscure the apparatus of facilities like Red Onion—pieces that are right under our noses, discoverable in public documentation for those willing to look.
My concluding message to you is this: read the paperwork, question what you hear, and challenge the narratives presented. Contribute to the collective knowledge and share what you discover.
Thanks for sticking with me. Keep wrestling with these disconcerting insights about our world— make no mistake, it's all political.
— Spogmai Anwar
Click here to view my full timeline and list of citations.
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