In the free world, people are entitled to medical privacy by law. But inside prisons, as myself and others have come to know, medical privacy can be sacrificed in the name of safety. 

At New Jersey State Prison, I have witnessed guards and incarcerated people snoop on conversations with a medical professional, and seen guards turn a person away from treatment because they believed the person was lying about their ailment. 

The consequence of this culture is that incarcerated people are less likely to seek needed medical care, instead choosing to suffer in silence.  

A PJP editor asked the New Jersey Department of Corrections about these claims in an emailed request for comment. Christopher Greeder, a department spokesperson, declined to comment on specific security procedures or staffing configurations. But he did say that NJDOC medical policies are designed to promote a balance between confidentiality and a safe setting for incarcerated patients, medical staff and facility operations. He added that in 2025, there were more than 70,000 medical provider visits for sick calls, chronic care, physicals and other medical care inside New Jersey prisons.

“The Department encourages individuals in custody to seek medical care when needed,” he wrote. “Policies and procedures are designed to support access to treatment while also maintaining a safe and secure environment for patients and staff.”

A lack of privacy

Over his 20 years in prison, James Russell said he has witnessed people forgo doctor’s visits even when they worried they might have cancer. Over time, their pain intensified and they eventually made the trip to the medical department to discover they had advanced cancer.

“It’s a privacy thing that stops guys from seeking care,” Russell said.

Specifically, these men delayed visiting the doctor for fear of how guards would treat them. For instance, Russell told me about an incarcerated man who had a hernia. The person allowed his testicles to swell significantly out of fear that officers might find out and use the information against him in some way. Eventually, the pain was so bad that the guy had to go to the doctor. Now, Russell said, officers make jokes about the size of his testicles when they see him.

Russell also once provided a friend with antifungal cream because the friend “was ashamed of going to medical and chancing an officer seeing the fungus on his feet and laughing at him.”

When a person gets to our medical department, he has to stop at a line that’s about 6 feet from a podium where an officer stands. From the line, he tells the officer his name and badge number. Then, the officer tells the incarcerated person how to proceed.

In between the line and the podium, there’s a nurse’s room where incarcerated men get their vitals checked and tell a nurse the symptoms they’re experiencing. There have been many occasions when I had officers stand right over my shoulder while I was talking to a doctor. Even when my blood was being drawn, officers were right there in my business.

While waiting for medical care, Russell described being stationed outside the door of a room where a patient is explaining their ailment to a nurse. He doesn’t like the fact that he can listen in on another person’s private conversation.

“If I can hear them, I know the officer can hear them,” Russell said.

When I have sought care, other incarcerated brothers have peeked their heads into the nurse’s station to speak to me and ask why I’m there. And at times when I have spoken to a doctor, the officer standing guard outside the door could have easily listened to the conversation. 

Once, a male doctor called a male guard into the room so the guard could be present when the doctor pulled down my pants for an examination. I felt so uncomfortable that I walked out in the middle of it. 

In response, I made an official complaint to the medical department through the JPay electronic remedy system. I received a response that read: “While we understand the issue of privacy, this is a maximum-security prison and as such the safety and security of all is the primary goal at all times. The medical department has no authority over custody.” They suggested I bring the issue up with the custody department, which oversees safety, security and operations.

Greeder said that NJDOC policy mandates that staff “must respect the confidentiality of medical interactions” while carrying out their required supervision responsibilities. If allegations are made that staff have acted outside NJDOC’s policy, that would be subject to administrative review, he said.

Safety concerns

One time I had an argument with an officer for standing over my shoulder while I explained my symptoms to the provider. The officer said that it was his job to protect the civilians who come to work in our prison. 

There are always two or more officers present in the medical department — a wing on the north compound of the prison that has about a dozen rooms for doctor and dentist visits and blood draws. Instead of being so close to us, they could give some distance and be prepared to assist if their help is needed. The doctors and nurses wear whistles around their necks; if there is a problem, they can blow the whistle and officers will respond in seconds. 

Greeder said he could not comment on specific safety methods, such as whistles, but acknowledged that medical staff have established methods of communication to express urgent safety concerns if a dangerous situation occurs.

“There have been incidents involving threats and assaults against medical staff,” Greeder said. “Incidents of this nature make appropriate custody presence and established safety protocols necessary to support the safe and orderly delivery of medical services. Procedures are in place to help prevent incidents and to ensure a timely response when safety concerns arise.”

But in the 12 years that I’ve been in New Jersey prisons, I’ve never heard a nurse or doctor blow the whistle.

I spoke to a friend, who has been incarcerated at New Jersey State Prison for about two decades. He said he also could not recall an instance of a medical civilian worker being attacked by an incarcerated person.

He also said he once witnessed two officers turn a person away before they could even reach medical staff for care. As the person left, he heard one of the officers say, “He’ll be back tomorrow faking stomach pains. He don’t got no cancer.”

Greeder said there is a process in place for incarcerated people to request medical care, which they do via their electronic tablets. Requests for care, Greeder said, are reviewed and determined by “qualified health care professionals,” not corrections officers. If care is alleged to have been improperly denied, it would be reviewed by the prison system.

Stephon Downer recalled a time when he had a screening before a colonoscopy. An officer made him feel uncomfortable by interjecting his beliefs and opinions about the medical procedure into the conversations. 

“New Jersey State Prison has to strike a balance between the safety of staff and doctor-patient privilege,” Downer said.