As a prisoner performs a spinning jump-kick, another crouches, summoning the power of the ancients to deliver the fatal blow. The two prisoners are playing a video game while a group huddles around them. In the background, a dog barks.

The prison unit I live in is not like most around the country, or even most in my state of Washington. On that day, people were playing Double Dragon V: The Shadow Falls, one of 2,000 games on the Super Nintendo Retro game console we can access in our unit. The barking came from Hunter, a dog being temporarily housed in the prison from a local animal shelter. 

The game console and dog initiative are two of several programs implemented or reintroduced by a new Adams Unit supervisor at Washington State Penitentiary, who made these changes to reflect learnings from the Washington Way program, which is inspired by the progressive Norwegian prison system and aims to transform some correctional cultures to focus on the wellbeing of staff and incarcerated people. 

The changes came after a string of challenges, including a 2019 lawsuit and a series of suicides. The adjustments have transformed our unit from gloomy and depressing to lively and more humane. It feels more like life on the outside in many ways. 

New set of keys

I have been in prison in Washington since 2003. The last five of those years have been in what are called residential treatment units. RTUs house prisoners for mental health services. I was transferred here after a suicide attempt in a segregation cell at another prison.

Around the time I arrived at an RTU, in June 2019, the advocacy group Disability Rights Washington entered into a settlement agreement with the Washington prison system over the penitentiary’s mental health housing practices.

The penitentiary was housing people in the mental health units at a closed-custody level regardless of their actual custody status, according to a July 11, 2019 press release from Disability Rights Washington.

“This ‘over-classification’ resulted in dozens of inmates being housed in overly restrictive conditions due to their need for disability related services,” the report said. 

Prisoners were locked in their cells for more than 15 hours a day with severely limited access to outside recreation and therapeutic programming.

As a result of the settlement, Adams Unit was converted to a medium custody environment, chiefly by retrofitting the cell doors with keys prisoners could use to enter and exit their cells between 7 a.m. and 8:30 p.m., allowing for more out-of-cell time.

To make the environment more reflective of medium custody, staff provided us microwaves and hot-water urns — but not coffee — and made the showers available any time the dayroom was open.

The Dog Wall of Fame

Even during the COVID-19 pandemic, some programs were introduced and thrived despite staff shortages and restrictions. One of these is a favorite of mine: the former unit supervisor, Scott Buttice, provided houseplants for prisoners to grow and care for in their cells.

“Prison cells and prison units are historically drab and depressing environments that do not have a positive impact on the mental health of the patients and the staff in the areas,” Buttice said. “This program was a low-cost, low-risk, high-reward program that impacted patient morale very quickly.” 

Buttice also mentioned numerous studies regarding the physical and mental health benefits of caring for houseplants. I was particularly proud of the plants I grew and showed them off to anyone walking by my cell.

Buttice also introduced a dog program that survived the pandemic. Blue Mountain Humane Society, a local animal shelter, brought in dogs for us to train and foster for six to eight weeks. The guard who oversees the program said they hoped to extend this to several months or even longer.

A resident artist has painted portraits of the dogs, which are displayed on the “Dog Wall of Fame” at our unit’s entrance. These illustrations, along with landscapes, portraits and other scenes, have spruced up our “historically drab and depressing” unit.

Still not better

In late 2022, when the Washington Department of Corrections ended our pandemic quarantines, the unit stepped up their efforts even more. 

The unit sergeant made a makeshift cornhole game by arranging for beanbags and putting squares made from red tape on the floor in each dayroom. He encouraged his staff to play alongside the residents. Daily meals were eaten in the dayrooms instead of in individuals’ cells, expanding social interaction. 

We also held prison fundraisers, where we could purchase food from local stores and restaurants. During one, I scored a steak from Applebee’s. The proceeds were used for various treats passed out to everyone every few weeks. We used some of the funds to purchase a deep freezer, which is now stocked with ice cream bars and freezer pops.

Then, in June 2023, our progress was halted. The RTUs were locked down after three suicides occurred in one week.

Over the next nine months, we were mostly locked in our cells. The staff moved everyone off the third floor for safety reasons and shuffled around some other residents to higher custody levels. They also closed the dog program. Officials welded horizontal bars from floor to ceiling along the upper walkways, and enclosed the stairways that surround the open commons below. 

One day around 2 a.m., corrections staff in full riot gear ordered several residents to “cuff up” for a chained bus ride. They were to be transferred to the special offender unit at the Monroe Correctional Complex, the state’s only other RTU. 

The staff might have expected resistance, but there was none. Three or four people asked as they were carted away: “Who will take care of my houseplant?”

A major transformation

In mid-January, with the last of the bars around the upper walkways and stairs welded in place, Adams Unit restarted its new normal.

The dog program resumed and immediately had a calming effect on the residents and staff. 

Prison staff made our fundraisers more frequent, and they started monthly tournaments in spades, Uno, chess and checkers. Everyone who participates receives a prize, such as ice cream and candy.

“The men in this unit get excited around tournaments and look forward to what’s next,” said the corrections officer in charge of the tournaments.

The next gift we got was the Nintendo game console. People who rarely socialized before now often joke and laugh while playing or watching others play.

“The game system is a fun incentive that brings people out of their cells,” said Eric W., one of the residents.

One April day, I observed residents playing video games. People ate freezer pops nearby and I listened to the “thunk, thunk” of cornhole — on a nice wood set commissioned by the sergeant. A dog barked, pleading to come out of its cell.