If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health or suicidal thoughts, round-the-clock help is available through the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Call or text 988, or chat online at 988lifeline.org/chat. For the Veterans Crisis Line, call 988, then press 1; text 838255; or chat at VeteransCrisisLine.net/Chat.
On April 10, 2024, my prison held a memorial service for Tuan Tran. Unfortunately, the cellblock I reside in posted the invitation a day after the service.
Tran, who was a lifer, was a staple in the community for over 28 years. He killed himself allegedly to escape physical pain caused by a sciatic nerve, according to a note he left behind, which was seen by four other incarcerated people. The note indicated that he had decided to end his life, and therefore his pain, because the prison would not provide him stronger medication for his suffering.
Prison Journalism Project did not seek comment for this story from the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections to help protect the writer from possible retaliation.
Tran was born in Vietnam on May 21, 1960. Most of his family still lives there. He had little to no contact with them. He had a son but they were estranged. As a result, Tran, like many others, developed family relationships with others inside.
Tran was a carpenter who initially worked in the furniture shop. He was patient and meticulous with his craft. Tran would often create dollhouses and other items for men to send home.
Staff also relied on Tran for unique jobs throughout the prison. In addition to carpentry, he held jobs in shoe repair and maintenance.
He displayed generosity in all of his jobs. In prison, it’s not often you find someone diligent, upright and dependable. His reputation made him a valuable referral source for men looking for employment.
Tran was a pillar of the Asian community during his life sentence. Whenever Asians came to the prison he would ensure they had everything they needed to begin their bid. He would even work with corrections staff to make sure they were comfortable. Tran was so effective, they would eventually move to his block so he could serve as their intermediary.
Tran’s door was open to everyone. One of his hobbies was chess, which he played not only for the sport of competition but also as an ice-breaker.
One person remembered entering the dayroom shortly after starting his bid in 2010. Tran was seated at the table with his chessboard.
“Do you play chess?” Tran asked.
“A little,” he replied.
Tran invited him to play, and a friendship began.
Though Tran was thousands of miles away from his homeland, he held on to some of its traditions. One such example was when he made a hammock by tying a sheet from his window to the bedpost.
Tran also took advantage of his small stature by taking baths inside the utility sink in the shower room.
We did not know much about the murder case that sent Tran to prison. Taking another person’s life is not something to discuss lightly. Like most of us, he kept that information tucked close to his chest.
Tran did share that he knew very little English at the time of the court proceedings. Though his interpreter spoke his native language, they spoke different dialects. He said he hadn’t understood what was being communicated during his trial and he had been clueless about the proceedings of his new government.
During the pandemic, Tran developed pain in his sciatic nerve. No one knew how the condition came about. Tran was not overweight nor known to exercise. The condition must have developed by some other means. Over time, as the pain became unbearable, the medical clinic provided generic over-the-counter pain pills and a walker, but they allegedly denied him stronger pain medication.
He had been seen taking baby steps with the walker because of the pain.
In the days leading to Tran’s suicide, he distributed his personal belongings clandestinely.
On the morning of March 19, 2024, Tran asked his cellmate to leave the cell, then he killed himself. His cellmate later found the note Tran left. It was addressed to the prison medical staff, letting them know that his only way to end the pain was to end his life.
When staff discovered Tran, they tried to resuscitate him. The same man who Tran invited to play chess was at the medical clinic when they returned with Tran in a body bag on a gurney.
This is now the second suicide I know of related to sciatic pain in this prison in a year.
The Eighth Amendment protects citizens against cruel and unusual punishment. Tran’s life-without-parole sentence was an unusual punishment. In addition, forcing someone to live in so much discomfort that they opt for suicide is cruel.
Inmates are considered to be wards of the state. Care and custody of inmates are the backbone of the corrections system’s creed.
As his final note leads me to believe, Tran’s suicide could have been prevented.

