Located at the edge of rural western Pennsylvania, State Correctional Institution, Mercer, has long been considered one of the calmer prisons in the state system.
But beneath that reputation, a quiet crisis is unfolding — one fueled by fluctuations in staffing and the recruitment of young, inexperienced guards. The combined effects can disrupt daily operations, erode mental health and intensify despair among the facility’s roughly 30 men serving life sentences.
Officers I spoke to for this article, who asked to remain anonymous due to employment restrictions, described mandatory overtime as routine, with some working 12- to 16-hour shifts multiple days a week just to maintain minimum staffing levels.
“We’re stretched so thin that any unexpected absence throws the whole place into lockdown or restricted movement. “We don’t want to shut down programs or yard,” he said, referring to the time incarcerated people are allowed to spend outside each day. “But when you don’t have enough staff, everything collapses.”
Pennsylvania Department of Corrections spokesperson Maria Bivens wrote in an email to Prison Journalism Project that, in 2025, 9% of corrections officer overtime at Mercer was mandated, compared to a department-wide average of 15% mandated overtime. As of Feb. 3, Bivens said, there were only three vacancies at Mercer in the lower-level officer ranks.
But, she added, “Keep in mind, these vacancies change frequently.”
Those living inside the facility feel the effects of those fluctuations daily.
Modified lockdowns — meaning restricted movement and reduced access to programs — occur often, sometimes lasting consecutive days if several posts are unfilled or officers are out sick. As a result, people have missed critical health appointments, group therapy, educational classes, religious services and job assignments.
For those serving life sentences, these disruptions can affect psychological well-being.
“Being older in prison, you are on high alert all of the time,” said one of the lifers I know from a support group. “The absences of staff compound anxiety because you feel less in control of this life you [already] have no control over. Will we be out today? Will I get to get fresh air? These are the questions asked every day that I don’t like to think about.”
Even when movement is limited, Bivens said department policy requires facilities “to prioritize urgent and essential medical needs and clinically necessary treatment and to adapt service delivery so that individuals still receive required attention.”
The arrival of rookies
At Mercer, there has recently been an influx of new hires, or “rookies,” as they’re called here, and some are as young as 19. Some old-timers have been in longer than they’ve been alive.
While often well-intentioned, the rookies arrive unfamiliar with the population and their various sentences — so a broad stroke is applied to all.
For example, some officers treat all of us as if we just got here and they know more than we do. A more sensitive officer can perceive who the old-timers are and show some deference. After all, many of the older guys know things about how this place runs — things to look out for, things that could prevent violence.
Some younger officers have shorter fuses, which can change the atmosphere of the whole unit.
Recently, we overheard the radio announce that count — prisoner roll call, essentially — had cleared. It was right after breakfast and people needed to pick up medications or get lab work done. But when the cells didn’t open, men started calling out their door numbers. A rookie officer on our unit got so frustrated that he yelled at us in an unprofessional and derogatory tone, as if we were animals waiting to be let out of our cages.
Bivens said that the state DOC training academy provides corrections officers with foundational skills that are relevant for working with older people. That includes training in communication, emergency response, suicide prevention and mental health crisis intervention.
“While the training is primarily designed to prepare officers for a broad range of institutional duties, it includes instruction that equips them to safely interact with and support older, long-term residents, particularly in medical or nursing-home-style units,” Bivens wrote.
She added that new hires — also known as trainees — receive a year of on-the-job training.
Vulnerable aging minds
Pennsylvania’s life-sentence structure — mandatory life without parole for first- and second-degree murder — means many of Mercer’s life-sentenced individuals came to prison when they were young.
Now in their 50s, 60s, 70s and even 80s, they face the combined pressures of aging in prison and insufficient mental health care.
At Mercer, some elderly life-sentenced people rarely leave their cells due to mobility issues or mental health decline. Staffing shortages only worsen their isolation.
“When we are locked in, that means we have to spend time with a cellmate we may not get along with,” said a lifer who asked not to be named for fear of retaliation. “He doesn’t like being locked in [either] and turns that anger and frustration out on me because I’m old now. At times I fear for my life.”
Among lifers here, I’ve noticed signs of depression like withdrawal from socializing, and signs of early dementia.
“It’s like watching men age in fast motion,” said Ujama O. Oyapo, a life-sentenced individual with 35 years in. “They’re mentally slipping, and there are not enough resources to help them.”
In addition to outpatient and inpatient services for prisoners with serious mental illness, Bivens said the department also relies on trained incarcerated specialists to provide ongoing mental health support to people in need. Mercer recently added a new member to its psychology staff, she added.
Staff burnout and safety concerns
Overtime is a frequent occurrence for guards here. There are some officers I see so often that I joke: “You are here more than me, and I have life!”
Officers say their own exhaustion increases tensions inside the facility.
“When guys are locked in more, tempers flare,” said an officer with more than a decade at Mercer. “But when staff are exhausted from endless overtime, we’re not in the best position to de-escalate. It’s not safe for anyone.”
Officers say they lack time and sufficient training to address our growing mental health needs.
“We see these men struggling,” the officer said. “But our job right now is just to keep the place running. Nobody has time to think about the psychological fallout.”
Staff burnout and strengthening support for staff are major concerns for the department, Bivens said. “Stress management and trauma-informed care are incorporated into basic training for staff, with an emphasis on supporting both employees and incarcerated individuals.”
Searching for solutions
Experts and advocates say that addressing mental health at Mercer must begin with stabilizing staffing levels through increased pay, reduced mandatory overtime and incentives to work in rural institutions like Mercer.
Bevins said the department has implemented a number of measures aimed at recruitment and staff stability.
“We have increased hiring initiatives to address vacancies, expanded training and cross-coverage strategies to stabilize daily operations and are using staffing data to better anticipate coverage gaps before they impact housing units or programming,” she said.
Pennsylvania’s reliance on life sentences guarantees that prisons like Mercer will continue to house an aging population with intense mental health needs.
Possible reforms include expanding commutation opportunities, strengthening tele-mental health services, utilizing certified peer support specialists and guaranteeing minimum out-of-cell time regardless of staffing.
But for now Mercer remains caught in a dangerous loop: fluctuating staff, more restrictions, worsening mental health and a growing population of men already carrying the psychological weight of a life with no possibility of freedom.
It’s hard to keep hope alive when the system that’s supposed to run this place is falling apart. And if you’re sentenced to die here, hope is the only thing you’ve got.