On Nov. 17, a man named Alex died by suicide in the Washington State Penitentiary’s Residential Treatment Units. The tragedy occurred just one day before the prison officially announced access to the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.
It was hard not to wonder whether access to 988 might have changed the outcome. Or if it would have been any use to me before I made my own suicide attempt in 2018.
But the hotline evidently wasn’t designed for people with active plans to kill themselves. Despite the words “suicide” and “crisis” in its name and on its website, Washington State Department of Corrections officials have made clear that incarcerated people are expected to use it only in non-crisis situations.
“988 is not a replacement for utilizing DOC mental health supports,” reads a flier explaining the program. “It is a supplement available for non-crisis issues.”
Chris Wright, a spokesperson for the department, said in an email to PJP that the hotline is there for people who need “someone to talk to, access to non-emergency support, or to get clarity during a difficult time.” But he added that the 988 number replaced a previous resource — 1-800-273-TALK — with a “shorter number that is easier to remember during a crisis.”
Residents at Washington State Penitentiary, myself included, reacted to the hotline announcement with guarded skepticism, voicing fears that calls would not be truly private and that sharing sensitive mental health struggles could lead to solitary confinement or other punitive consequences.
Fear of consequences for calling hotline
In the memo announcing the hotline last fall, the DOC urged people with “mild” mental health symptoms or substance use concerns to use the 988 number. Instead, it read: “If you are having a mental health emergency or are suicidal, please tell your nearest staff member.”
That was unwelcome advice for many people at WSP who are reluctant to reach out to staff about feelings of depression or self-harm. They fear guards will strip them of their possessions, including clothes and other items that could be used for self-harm, and place them in a form of housing even more restrictive than solitary confinement, called the close observation area.
“I wouldn’t call [the hotline] because I would lose everything,” said an individual who asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation.
Their fears are not unfounded. In 2018, staff found me unconscious with a bedsheet tied around my neck in the segregation unit at Airway Heights Corrections Center. Afterward, I spent five months in the close observation area and received several major rule violations for my suicide attempt. Those infraction allegations included assaulting a staff member (later found not guilty), interfering with staff members and causing a threat of injury to another person.
Placement in the close observation area can occur when someone poses a risk to themselves or others, Wright said.
“Safety is DOC’s main priority. Preventing suicides can include removing access to certain items they could use to harm themselves and/or clothing, sheets etc,” he wrote. “These restrictions should be the minimum necessary to help keep the individual safe.”
Talon Cutler-Flinn believes the hotline should be used as it claims it should be used: to support people with thoughts of suicide.
Cutler-Flinn began advocating for more preventative resources, including access to the hotline, after a rash of suicides in the summer of 2023. “Those deaths really shook me,” he said. “And after my own attempt in 2017, I knew I had to do something.”
Cutler-Flinn agreed that it’s worse to share thoughts of self-harm with staff. “You get harshly punished for reaching out for help,” he said. “So why do it?”
In his email to PJP, Wright said the department wants people to feel safe asking for help. “Speaking up is an important step toward getting support, and the response should never feel like a punishment,” he wrote. “When someone reaches out, our focus is on their safety, dignity, and getting them the care they need.”
Hotline confidentiality in question
When the hotline news was announced, Cutler-Flinn decided to type out a notice encouraging residents to use the resource if they felt suicidal. He submitted the notice to Top of the Mountain, an internal publication that I help run.
Before publishing the notice, I called the hotline to confirm it was indeed available. A recording ensured me the call would not be recorded or monitored. A gentleman answered, and I told him I was only testing out the number before ending the call.
About two hours after the call, I was confronted by an officer about calling the hotline. Immediately I was filled with dread, fearing another trip to the observation unit. The officer told me he received a call from the shift sergeant and wanted to see if I was doing OK.
Luckily, I convinced the officer I was only verifying its availability for Top of the Mountain, and we left it at that.
Cutler-Flinn said he did not have the same experience when he called about a week before me. When I told him about my experience he said: “Part of me [isn’t] surprised, but personally it [feels] like a trust was broken.”
Wright said that confidentiality during a 988 call can be overridden if the counselor determines the caller is in a life-threatening crisis; if they perceive either potential abuse of a child or elder or a threat to harm others; or if they believe the call is “inappropriate” and “egregious.”
In those cases, “the counselor will contact the facility so the incarcerated individual can get the care they need,” Wright said.
But none of these conditions was true in my case. Since I reside in the mental health unit of the prison, I wondered if people there are automatically flagged when they call the hotline.
Not so, said Wright: “There are no exceptions for confidentiality to be overridden solely based on someone’s housing/unit.”
When a PJP editor asked Wright specifically about my experience, he declined to comment. “Discussing a specific incarcerated individual’s situation … would violate their confidentiality,” he wrote. But he added that staff were trained on how to access a system used to track 988 emergency calls.
“It was emphasized that it should only be used in emergency situations where there is imminent risk to the incarcerated individual’s safety. We would retrain the staff member in a situation like this,” he said, referring to my encounter with the officer.
An officer’s view of the hotline
Officer Pence, a well-respected guard who works in the treatment units, said she feels ambivalent about the hotline. “If someone uses [the] hotline instead of speaking to staff directly, it will take longer to figure out who it is and might be too late to save,” she said. For more minor issues, she went on, “maybe they can talk it out [on the hotline] and be fine.”
Residents in our unit feel comfortable opening up to Pence about their feelings. When I asked Pence why she thinks that is, she said it’s because she is “willing to listen” and is attentive to people’s body language. She added that she is discerning about the actual potential for a person to self-harm and does not immediately escalate a case when someone shares their struggles with her.
The hotline is a resource I will use when I need to get some things off my chest. But I will be guarded with what I say and definitely will not discuss thoughts self-harm or suicide.