Editor’s Note: Prison Journalism Project editors have verified the identities and incarceration status of every source in this story. During James Mancuso’s reporting process, which took more than a year, he was moved back to an Idaho prison, losing contact with his sources at the Saguaro Correctional Center in Arizona. PJP editors made multiple attempts to reconfirm that each person cited in this story was still comfortable being on the record. We were only able to successfully contact one source. For safety reasons, PJP has decided to identify sources we could not reach only with their first initial.
H. has been housed in prisons on the U.S. mainland for 22 years. He currently resides at Saguaro Correctional Center, a private prison in Arizona run by CoreCivic, where he’s been incarcerated since 2007, when the facility first opened.
The first time I spoke with H., he said he missed Hawaii, his family, his friends, the ocean — and the aloha spirit, the Hawaiian philosophy of love, greeting and acceptance. He’s been away from the Hawaiian Islands for so long that he’s lost touch with many of the people he once knew.
The people he still communicates with seem “a million miles away,” he said.
Most states have shipped prisoners out of their own borders to ease prison overcrowding at various points in time, but Hawaii has relied on the practice more than most, according to a 2020 article from The Harvard Law Review. In mid-April, there were close to 870 people from Hawaii at Saguaro Correctional Center, or SCC, close to 23% of Hawaii’s total incarcerated population.
Before I was transferred out of SCC, I interviewed H. in December 2023 about what it was like to be imprisoned so far from home.
I understand some of the challenges of being incarcerated away from home. Idaho, where I’m from, has sent more than 1,000 state prisoners to Arizona, Texas and elsewhere. Until 2020, I was imprisoned at Eagle Pass Detention Facility, a private prison in Texas run by the GEO Group. Then I was transferred to SCC.
But, in important ways, my experience at SCC was different from H.’s and the other Hawaiians, according to interviews I conducted with 18 Idahoans and Hawaiians before I left SCC and returned to an Idaho state prison in February 2024.
“You can tell that the [guards] at SCC don’t consider us their people, so we are treated differently, like we are less than them,” H. said. “It eats at you after so many years.”
Most of the general rules at SCC — such as mailroom policy and chow hall procedures — were the same for people from Hawaii and Idaho. But there were significant differences in our qualities of life. This differential treatment extended to policies and regulations dictated, either explicitly or implicitly, by Hawaii’s and Idaho’s respective contracts with CoreCivic, which Prison Journalism Project editors reviewed for this article.
PJP sent multiple unanswered requests for comment to CoreCivic, the Idaho Department of Corrections and the Hawaii Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.
Different rules for solitary
People from Hawaii said they were subjected to different rules around solitary confinement.
During my time at SCC, when a Hawaiian prisoner violated a prison rule, they spent a minimum of 30 days in segregated housing. Multiple write-ups could mean multiple 30-day stays.
In 2016, Honolulu Civil Beat reported that one inmate was confined in solitary for close to three months for arguing with a prison official over a grievance form. “Had he served his sentence in Hawaii,” the news outlet reported, “[he] wouldn’t have had to endure such prolonged segregated confinement.”
Idaho prisoners were limited to 15 days of solitary confinement at a time, in accordance with its state policy, and had less restrictions on such privileges as visiting, property and commissary. People from Idaho could also make phone calls when they were first sent to solitary confinement, so they could notify their friends or family.
A harmful behavior program
At SCC, Hawaiians were subjected to what CoreCivic calls a “behavior modification program.” Known as the Special Housing Incentive Program, or SHIP, people in solitary confinement could earn privileges, including more frequent showers, phone calls, visits and outdoor time, as rewards for good behavior.
The program takes at least a year to complete, according to one person who has experienced it. SHIP was designed for inmates who are written up for offenses or frequently sent to solitary confinement.
The first level of the program is six months in solitary confinement for about 22 hours a day. The next two levels allow for a gradual restoration of privileges and less time confined in a cell. But if you get in any trouble, at any point, you go right back to the first level — prolonged solitary confinement for several months.
“It’s stressful and really takes a toll on you,” a Hawaiian named Al Batalona told me. “Like they want you to give up and say, ‘F— it.’”
B., a Hawaiian incarcerated at SCC, said he’s seen officers try to get guys in trouble by pretending that they “were talking shit,” or accusing them of petty rule violations, like possessing an extra bar of soap.
“It’s hard for guys to get outta SHIP because some of the corrections officers that work in the unit think it’s a game to find something to get you in trouble for,” B. said.
Another Hawaiian, who spent four years in solitary at SCC, told me he passed the time with nothing but books and his thoughts. He couldn’t even look outside because the windows were frosted.
Grievance process a dead end
When a prisoner at SCC wants to file a complaint, or request something, they fill out an “inmate concern form.” The prisoner is supposed to receive the carbon copy and be provided with a written response if the grievance isn’t addressed.
Hawaiians submitted their forms on single pieces of paper — I know because I was accidentally given this version once. That means that Hawaiians didn’t get copies to show they had filed grievances, which means they have a much harder time suing for redress. (The federal Prison Litigation Reform Act requires that prisoners exhaust their facility’s grievance process before being able to file a lawsuit.)
The difference extends to discipline appeals. Idaho reviews any grievances or appeals, and I believe that process more objectively weighs the facts.
Hawaii does not have a disciplinary review like that. According to the prison TV channel that broadcasted institutional notices, Hawaiians couldn’t appeal disciplinary decisions to the Hawaii prison system. That means they almost never received responses to grievances, or they were denied for reasons that make little sense.
“I can’t have anyone look at [my grievances] like you Idaho dudes can,” said one Hawaiian at SCC. “[My choices are] either file a lawsuit and battle CoreCivic’s lawyers or let it go. It doesn’t even matter if my rights are being violated.”
“CoreCivic doesn’t care about our rights,” another Hawaiian named P. told me. “As long as it saves these f—ers a buck, that’s all they care about.”
Dreams of the homeland
Beyond those regulatory differences, Hawaiians said they missed their families and in-person visits. It takes close to six hours to fly from Hawaii to Phoenix, and then you would still be about an hour’s drive from SCC.
Almost 40 years ago, the practice of sending people from Hawaii to a mainland prison was challenged in the Supreme Court. The case was brought by Delbert Ka‘ahanui Wakinekona after he was convicted of robbery, aggravated assault and murder in Hawaii and was sent to Folsom State Prison in California.
Wakinekona lost his court case in a 6-3 decision. The majority of justices found that interstate prison transfers are a prison administrative choice, and are not reviewable by the courts. However, Thurgood Marshall wrote in his dissent that sending someone that far away to prison — away from loved ones — was no different than sending someone to a prison that didn’t allow visits.
I know what that’s like. During my time at SCC, my relationships with loved ones back in Idaho suffered. The video visits were costly and difficult to use, and travel was prohibitively expensive. A friend from Idaho wanted to visit me, but airfare, fuel, lodging and food would have cost about $800 for two days. They decided not to come.
In 2016, The Marshall Project reported on a woman who spent more than $2,370 to travel from Hawaii to Arizona to visit her boyfriend and nephew who were incarcerated at SCC.
A few days after I interviewed H., I saw him on the recreation yard again, standing near the yard’s fence.
“It would be nice to go home,” H. said. “I’ve been gone for 22 years, and I miss my family, the weather, the sea and my people. These people, they don’t care about none of us besides the money it makes them.”