On Dec. 5, 2023, hundreds of people stood on the yard in groups organized by race. This was done purposefully to ensure prison staff paid attention. Gathering along racial lines typically suggests something violent is about to happen, like a riot.
Not this time.
Residents of Barchey Unit at Arizona State Prison Complex Lewis in Buckeye, an hour west of Phoenix, had been living without basic amenities like hot water and supplies such as for cleaning for weeks. Tensions were rising as nothing changed.
Our facility was not functioning and our message was clear: We are humans, who deserve equal and fair treatment. We wanted our complaints and needs acknowledged and addressed.
Transfer to Barchey Unit
The chain of events that led to this peaceful protest began on Friday, Oct. 27, at a different prison where I was previously housed — the Eyman Complex, in Florence, Arizona.
Around 5 a.m., officers and sergeants instructed a total of 80 residents from the Meadows and Cook units to pack what personal property could fit into four small moving boxes. We were to be transferred to a new facility the following Monday.
From what I could tell, it seemed like the “troublemakers” at Eyman were getting transferred — those who had previously received disciplinary write-ups from officers. A conversation I overheard between sergeants seemed to confirm this. I knew I was likely to be included because of my habit of speaking up on behalf of myself and others.
“This movement of incarcerated individuals was pre-planned and was made for the purpose of safely mitigating overcrowding in ASPC-Eyman’s Cook and Meadows Units at that time,” a spokesperson from the Arizona Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation & Reentry told a Prison Journalism Project editor in an email.
The transfer process began at 2 a.m. It included a strip-out — a full clothing and body inspection by guards — to ensure no prohibited items or contraband were being concealed and transported. The only authorized attire were shower shoes, one shirt and a pair of pants. Anything else — including tennis shoes, watches or sweaters that had been purchased from the prison commissary — was seized by officers.
In the dark, we were sent away on a bus.
Out of order
Designed to hold 1,200 prisoners, the Barchey Unit of the Lewis Complex consists of six buildings split into two color-coded sides (red and blue), with three buildings on either side.
The Eyman transfers soon discovered that we were the only ones on the red side, which had no hot water. A number of showers, sinks and water fountains were inoperable. There were no cleaning supplies or proper tools for housekeeping, including brooms, dust pans and cleaning solutions that porters rely on to do their jobs.
In their statement to PJP, the state corrections spokesperson said that half the unit was receiving shower repairs at the time, and the Eyman transfers “were moved into the half of Barchey Unit that was not in need of repairs.”
We notified prison staff, who advised us to submit formal complaints, or kites, outlining our concerns, which also included personal property lost during transport.
Around 11 p.m. on the night of our arrival, a few others and I were selected to work in the prison kitchen and assigned our report time: 3 a.m.
Chaos in the kitchen
I was assigned the position of warehouse clerk, the go-to person in the kitchen. My job was to review kitchen recipes and bring out the products needed to cook the day’s menu.
When we reported for duty, there was a problem: I couldn’t find all of the proper food. Nor were there key equipment pieces or cleaning products, such as sanitized buckets, brooms, mops, work boots or oven mitts.
Many guards on that first day wore protective vests bearing the names of other prisons; they were on loan from other units. Because of this, they may have been less likely to care about long-term issues because they wouldn’t be the ones dealing with them.
Luckily, most of us had come from kitchen jobs. I knew the process well enough to get the few food products we did have to the cooks, who knew enough to throw something together: fried rice bowls with sautéed ham, bell peppers and onions.
Still, we didn’t know when the next delivery was scheduled.
Persistent problems
Over the next couple weeks issues persisted and new ones surfaced.
For one, there were no washers or dryers anywhere in the facility. Staff couldn’t tell us why or when the issue would be fixed, so we washed our clothes in partially broken bathroom sinks and mop buckets.
The state corrections spokesperson said that housing areas of Barchey Unit do not have washers and dryers. “However, Barchey does have a different area for incarcerated individuals to send their laundry to be washed and dried. This is common, as most of ADCRR’s housing units utilize centralized laundry service.”
In my experience, however, it is common to have centralized laundry in higher-custody facilities such as closed custody and maximum custody yards. Medium and minimum custody state facilities like Barchey vary on what process they have for laundry.
Either way, we had to make do. The property losses and confiscations prior to transit to the Lewis Complex left many of us with only one set of clothes. This meant that washing clothes became an everyday chore. Some had to wear wet clothes. Others refused to go to work because they were without additional clothing.
Meanwhile, things were still a mess in the kitchen. The unfavorable working conditions created heavy turnover. We were still not getting clean towels and cleaning supplies to work efficiently in the kitchen. Staff at Trinity, the prison’s food provider, were difficult to work with; I overheard one employee ask an incarcerated worker why they couldn’t “just speak English.”
A protest takes shape
In the face of these issues, the population at Barchey Unit banded together.
On Dec. 5, after dinner, a large number of us entered the recreation enclosure. Staff took note of this right away and began lifting their radios.
Once the recreation field contained about 200 of us, organized in our groups, more staff came out from the administration building. The sergeant locked the gate to the field.
Corrections staff removed us one by one from the recreation enclosure, searching each of us, and escorted everyone back to their respective housing units.
As we arrived back at the buildings, I could see the disappointment on people’s faces. Nothing seemed accomplished. Undeterred, some people committed to setting up a town hall meeting to again try and peacefully address our concerns with administration.
According to the state spokesperson, Barchey administration held a series of small town halls, allowing for open dialogue and real-time feedback between incarcerated people and corrections staff. “This open communication ensured rumors and misinformation were addressed quickly,” the spokesperson said.
According to meeting minutes I obtained, one town hall meeting was attended by the deputy warden and the assistant deputy warden, among other members of leadership. Prisoners raised a number of concerns, including the lack of available cleaning supplies to maintain the restrooms and the lack of laundry services.
Little progress was made then, and since. After the town hall, Barchey residents were still left to use shampoo or conditioner purchased from the commissary to wash our laundry. To dry our clothes, some of us would walk around the yard with wet shirts and pants above our heads, as if they were kites in the wind.
The department told PJP that all showers and sinks at Barchey Unit are operational as of March 6, 2025. But due to the age of the water fountains at Barchey Unit, “the Department is unable to obtain parts to repair them,” the spokesperson said. I have since left the Barchey Unit and now reside elsewhere at Lewis, so I cannot confirm these claims.
Meanwhile, the department also told PJP that laundry detergent is available for purchase from commissary. It’s true that detergent appears on the commissary list for all Lewis residents to review, but we cannot actually order it. The item is restricted and unable to be ordered via tablet on the commissary app. Other purchasing methods — like filling out an order sheet — have also proved unreliable.
(Additional reporting by PJP Associate Editor Carla Canning)
