[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----COLO., UTAH, IDAHO, CALIF., USA

[Rick Halperin]

August 25




COLORADO:

Louisiana man convicted of murdering homeless Denver man living in tent by 
South Platte River----Convicted man also a suspect in 2 other killings, 
scheduled for sentencing Oct. 19


A Louisiana man suspected in 2 homicides and an attempted homicide could face 
the death penalty or life in prison after a jury convicted him Thursday of 
murdering a homeless man in 2016.

Makhail Purpera, 30, was found guilty of 1st- and 2nd-degree murder after 7 
days of trial, according to a news release from the Denver District Attorney's 
office.

Purpera shot and killed 54-year-old Wayland Busby on Nov. 5, 2016, while trying 
to steal Busby's marijuana and other possessions, officials said. Busby was 
living in a tent by the intersection of South Platte Drive and Dartmouth Avenue 
in Englewood when he was killed.

A Denver Park Ranger found Busby's body during a routine check of the area. 
Busby collected scrap metal and possibly panned for gold.

Purpera's sentencing for the murder is scheduled for Oct. 19. He faces maximum 
penalties of life imprisonment or the death penalty.

Prosecutors also charged him with murder and aggravated robbery on suspicion of 
the killing another man. In February 2017, a passerby found the remains of 
Patrick Murphy in a pond near the intersection of South Broadway and West 
Jefferson Avenue. Police said the body could have been in the pond since 
November 2016. Murphy had been shot in the head.

Purpera was arrested on suspicion in Murphy's death while he was in jail for 
Busby's killing. He is expected to appear in court in October for a hearing on 
the 9 charges he faces in connection to Murphy's killing.

Prosecutors previously said Purpera was also wanted in Gonzales, Louisiana, for 
2 counts of attempted murder.

(source: Denver Post)






UTAH:

Man accused of murdering WVC code enforcement officer pleads not guilty to 13 
felonies


A man has pleaded not guilty to 13 felony charges that include aggravated 
murder and aggravated arson in connection with the death of a West Valley City 
code enforcement officer.

Kevin Wayne Billings, 64, made his initial court appearance Friday and pleaded 
not guilty to 13 felony counts.

Billings appeared before a judge via closed circuit TV from the Salt Lake 
County Jail, and he didn't say a word as his attorneys entered the not guilty 
pleas.

The 2 most serious of the counts Billings faces are aggravated murder and 
aggravated arson, both of which make this eligible to be a capital case with 
the possibility of the death penalty.

Billings allegedly lured Jill Robinson, a code enforcement officer, to his home 
on August 9 under the guise of an inspection to resolve ongoing issues with his 
yard but instead shot and killed the woman before setting her work vehicle on 
fire and igniting a blaze at a neighbor's home. Several animals were killed in 
that fire.

Bail was not addressed in Friday's hearing, so Billings remains behind bars 
without bail. His next appearance is scheduled for September 4, and at that 
scheduling conference a date will be chosen for a preliminary hearing.

(source: Fox News)






IDAHO----3, including 1 female, face death penalty

Owyhee County could seek death penalty against 3 suspects in the killing of a 
hitchhiker


3 people in Owyhee County still await trial in the random, brutal killing of a 
teenage hitchhiker, after Prosecutor Douglas Emery in November filed notices of 
his intent to pursue the death penalty against all 3 defendants.

On Aug. 13, District Judge Christopher Nye denied a request to dismiss suspect 
Nicolas Vandenberg's indictment after police say he plotted Hunter Smith's 
death.

Vandenberg, 28, is accused of fatally shooting Smith in June 2017. Vanderberg's 
2 co-defendants, Willie Rabey, 35, and Montanna Reed, 21, could also get the 
death penalty if convicted in the case for their alleged roles in Smith's 
death.

Emery said Friday that the pleadings and/or allegations in one or more of the 
suspects' cases could be amended, removing the death penalty as an option.

"Typically in case negotiations, the potential removal of the death penalty ... 
is a focal discussion," Emery wrote in an email to the Statesman.

Vandenberg is accused of luring Smith, 18 - who was hitchhiking from Junction 
City, Oregon, to Boise - and shooting him in the head in the Bruneau Desert in 
Owyhee County. The group is accused of inviting him to go shooting at 
Vandenberg's residence. His body was found in October 2017.

The trio did not know Smith personally, and law enforcement has said they 
believe the suspects planned to kill him, and could have killed again in the 
future.

Rabey is accused of witnessing the killing, knowing about the plan to kill 
Smith and helping move his corpse.

Reed is also accused of witnessing the killing, helping in the removal of 
Smith's body, knowing about the plan and helping to destroy his clothing.

Vandenberg was indicted by a grand jury in November, but he filed a request to 
have the indictment dismissed. He claimed that at least 1 juror was biased, 
that he wasn't read his Miranda rights in an October meeting with a detective 
and that some evidence shown to the grand jury was inadmissible. Nye denied the 
request.

Nye wrote that the juror the defense attorney was questioning would have been 
biased only if the case involved domestic violence.

In reference to the October meeting with a detective, the judge determined that 
the detective was not required to read Vandenberg his rights because he wasn't 
under arrest at the time. He voluntarily came to the police station, he was not 
detained or handcuffed, and at no point while police questioned him did 
Vandenberg ask to leave, according to court documents.

Vandenberg also argued that some texts to his co-defendants were inadmissible 
in court. The texts, sent on June 21, 2017, showed conversations between the 
co-defendants about killing Smith and about Vandenberg's actions, according to 
court documents.

Additionally, the judge's order states that Vandenberg admitted he 
intentionally shot Smith 4 times, including shooting Smith in the head when he 
was already on the ground. Vandenberg allegedly admitted that it was not an 
accident and that he intended to kill Smith.

He also allegedly admitted to stripping Smith of his clothes and burning them 
in a fire pit, later using a front-end loader to remove the fire pit and 
replacing it with gravel, according to the documents. Rabey reportedly told 
police that Vandenberg had "a lust for blood," according to court documents.

The court determined that even if some of the evidence given to a grand jury 
was inadmissible, there still would have been enough to indict Vandenberg.

Vandenberg is charged on suspicion of 1st-degree murder, conspiracy to commit 
1st-degree murder, failure to report a death and destruction of evidence.

Rabey is charged on suspicion of conspiracy to commit 1st-degree murder, 
destruction of evidence and failure to report a death. He has an enhancement 
for being a persistent violator, filed because Rabey has felony convictions in 
2003 and 2004 for burglary in Owyhee County.

Reed is charged on suspicion of conspiracy to commit 1st-degree murder and 
failure to report a death.

All 3 suspects remain in custody while they await trial, tentatively set for 
June 2019.

Idaho Association of Counties Executive Director Seth Grigg said Owyhee County 
filed claims with the Capital Crimes Defense Fund, which supports counties that 
need help paying for potential death penalty trials.

Pursuant to the rules of the Capital Crimes Defense Fund, Owyhee County would 
be responsible for the first $10,000 in expenses of a trial for each of the 3 
suspects at trial. Any costs after that would be paid for through the fund.

Grigg said Owyhee County paid about $4,780 into the fund in Fiscal Year 2019, 
but until now, the IAC has never had a claim submitted from Owyhee for a death 
penalty case. Every participating county pays into the fund, with a calculation 
based on its population.

(source: idahostatesman.com)






CALIFORNIA:

Prosecutors Seeking Death Penalty For Accused Cop Killing Suspect


The Alameda County District Attorney's Office is seeking the death penalty for 
an Oakland man who's scheduled to stand trial later this year on a murder 
charge with 3 special circumstances for the fatal shooting of Hayward police 
Sgt. Scott Lunger 3 years ago.

The District Attorney's Office announced its decision in the case of 
24-year-old Mark Estrada in a court filing and at a brief court hearing on June 
9, 2017, shortly after he was ordered to stand trial at the end of his 
preliminary hearing on May 8, 2017.

But the decision wasn't widely known until a hearing on Thursday at which 
Estrada sought to fire both of his attorneys.

The decision marks only the 2nd time that District Attorney Nancy O'Malley has 
sought the death penalty since she took the job as the county's top prosecutor 
in 2009.

The other time was in the case of Darnell Williams, who in 2016 was convicted 
of 2 counts of 1st-degree murder and other charges and sentenced to the death 
penalty for the deaths of 8-year-old Alaysha Carradine and 22-year-old Anthony 
Medearis in separate incidents in 2013.

Lunger was shot near Mytrle and Lion streets in Hayward at about 3:15 a.m. on 
July 22, 2015, and was pronounced dead at Eden Medical Center in Castro Valley 
a short time later.

Prosecutors said the shooting occurred after Lunger stopped a white Chevrolet 
Silverado truck driven by Estrada because it was swerving and almost hit 
several cars.

Estrada's move to fire his attorneys could be an attempt to delay his case, as 
it has moved slowly and he avoided entering a plea for 13 months after the 
shooting until he finally pleaded not guilty on Aug. 25, 2016.

At the hearing on Thursday, Alameda County Superior Court Judge James Cramer 
allowed Estrada to fire his lead attorney, Christopher Morales, and referred 
him to the Public Defender's Office to see if it will represent him.

Cramer said if the Public Defender doesn't take Estrada's case he will refer 
Estrada to the county's court-appointed lawyer program.

Estrada also asked to fire his 2nd lawyer, veteran Richmond defense attorney 
Linda Fullerton, for allegedly providing ineffective legal assistance but at 
the end of a closed hearing Cramer ruled that Estrada has no basis for 
dismissing her.

Estrada is scheduled to return to court on Monday, when the Public Defender's 
Office will disclose whether it will represent him.

Estrada's trial is scheduled to begin on Nov. 26.

Prosecutor John Brouhard, who has won several death penalty cases, including 
Williams' case, said he hopes Estrada's trial will still begin at that time.

(source: sfgate.com)

********************

Man Accused in Nia Wilson's Killing Gets Upgraded Charge, Could Face Death 
Penalty


The 27-year-old white man who is accused of stabbing and killing 18-year-old 
Nia Wilson at a BART train stop in Oakland, Calif., in July will likely not get 
hit with hate crime charges - but may still get the death penalty.

On Wednesday, the Alameda County District Attorney's Office hit John Lee Cowell 
with a special circumstance charge of "lying in wait." The charge qualifies 
Cowell, a convicted felon with a violent record, for the death penalty, the 
East Bay Times reports.

The "lying in wait" charge can be applied to a crime where a suspect watches a 
victim immediately before a deadly attack on that person. As the Times writes, 
"the particular level of planning is considered greater than premeditation and 
combines with physically waiting."

Cowell has already been charged with Nia's murder, as well as the attempted 
murder of her sister and use of a deadly weapon.

Prosecutors didn't explain why they added the special circumstance charge, nor 
did they make clear whether they would seek the death penalty if Cowell is 
convicted. If they do so, the Times writes, it would be only the 2nd time since 
2009 that Alameda's district attorney pursued the death penalty.

Some suspect the enhanced charge is to compensate for the lack of hate crime 
charges brought against Cowell. Since the brutal stabbing on July 22, many have 
believed Cowell's targeting of the Wilson sisters to have been racially 
motivated. However, while Cowell's criminal history is extensive, law 
enforcement says they've found no record of Cowell belonging to a white 
supremacist group.

As the Washington Post reports, some - including Oakland's mayor, Libby Schaaf 
- have called on police to investigate Cowell's time in federal prison to see 
if he has any connections to white supremacist gangs, like the Aryan 
Brotherhood.

Spurred by the case, the Post reports that Oakland's white elected leaders - 
Schaaf included - are "considering changing the legal definition of a racially 
motivated killing, lowering the threshold of evidence needed to bring such 
charges."

As Schaaf, an Oakland native, told the Post:

"It raises the question about our legal system and how we apply the rules of 
evidence.

It may be time to recognize that if there is no explicit racial bias, but there 
is implicit racial bias, then maybe the burden of proof should shift to the 
defense."

While Cowell's attorney is claiming his client suffers from "severe mental 
illness" and that his attack was not racially motivated, Wilson's family has 
taken its 1st steps in filing legal action against BART for not protecting Nia 
and Letifah Wilson.

According to the Daily Californian, the Wilson family filed the claim against 
the transit agency on Aug. 16, alleging that BART "failed to meet its duty as a 
common carrier" to protect its passengers. The suit says 2 weeks before the 
deadly stabbing, Cowell threatened two passengers on the train, who attempted 
to report the threats but found no BART personnel present.

The suit also claims Cowell didn't pay a fare to enter the platform on the day 
of the stabbings, and that enforcement of this could have prevented the attack.

(source: theroot.com)






USA:

Horrific deaths, brutal treatment: Mental illness in America's jails----A 
comprehensive Virginian-Pilot investigation


Bradley Thomas had bipolar disorder and was in a severe depressive episode when 
he was arrested for a misdemeanor in Oregon. He had spit on his landlord's face 
and threatened her husband with a sword.

While in jail, Thomas refused meals and medication. His condition quickly 
worsened. Soon he was flooding his cell with toilet water and smearing feces on 
the walls.

He was ordered to a state mental hospital but no beds were available. Thomas, 
like so many others with mental illness in jail, died in his cell.

The Virginian-Pilot tracked the cases of 404 people with mental illness who 
have died in America's jails since 2010. The total number is likely much 
larger, but it's untraceable - what little information the federal government 
keeps on jail deaths does not accurately track the mental health of inmates.

These deaths are symptomatic of a bigger problem - how the country's criminal 
justice system treats some of its most vulnerable citizens, those with a mental 
illness.

Some of the people who died were diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Others with bipolar disorder.

Or depression.

All had mental illness. And all died - many under horrific circumstances - 
after being taken to jail.

For years sheriffs, mental health advocates, families and prosecutors have 
sounded the alarm about the number of people with mental illness arrested and 
locked up, many for minor crimes.

"We are arresting people who have no idea what the laws are or the rules are 
because they're off their medications."---- Nashville Sheriff Daron Hall

"It's the type of thing that people think, 'Oh maybe this happens in North 
Korea. Maybe this happens in Iran.??? But it happens right here."---- Ed Budge, 
attorney for the family of Marc Moreno who died in a jail cell after not 
drinking water for 5 days

This is Charlton Cash Chrisman, who had a history of mental illness and drug 
abuse. He is shot with pepper balls while coming out of his cell. He was then 
shackled and a spit hood was put over his face. He died a short time later.

The Pilot's database was created using court records, Google searches, 
newspaper websites, state records and a variety of existing databases.

This is the 1st database to track such deaths across the nation, but it likely 
contains only a fraction of the true total. The federal government tallies more 
than 900 jail deaths a year. But it does not keep track of mental illness 
diagnoses. Only a few states do so, and then sporadically.

Yet jails are the default treatment center for many with mental illness in 
America. And they are woefully ill-equipped for the job.

What the country is left with is a system in which many with mental illness get 
little or no treatment. There is no way to know how many of the 404 inmates 
would have lived had they not been arrested.

But law enforcement officials and mental illness experts across the country do 
know this much: The system is broken.

Investigation tracks hundreds of deaths

Jerome Murdough, a homeless veteran diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar 
disorder, baked to death in a jail cell at Rikers Island in New York after 
being arrested for trespassing.

Jailed in crisis David O'Quinn was arrested for disturbing the peace. His 
father pleaded in vain to jail officials for him to be given his medications 
for severe mental disorders. Less than 2 weeks later, O'Quinn died from a 
bacterial infection after his own excrement got into cuts that he received from 
being beaten and put in a restraint chair.

Jennifer Towle was suffering from depression so severe she started eating a 
nail clipper, milk cartons and other objects while jailed at the Hudson County 
jail in New Jersey. After she died, an autopsy found about three liters of such 
material in her stomach.

People with mental illnesses in jails around the country are routinely dying in 
horrific ways and under preventable circumstances, a Virginian-Pilot 
investigation has found.

The country's 3,000-plus jails are the default treatment center for many. There 
is often nowhere else to take them.

The Pilot and students from Marquette University in Milwaukee tracked 404 
deaths since 2010 in what experts say is the most comprehensive effort to 
examine what happens to people with mental illness in jails throughout the 
country. The findings were compiled using state data, news reports, existing 
databases and court filings.

The total number of deaths for the period is likely significantly higher than 
what could be documented through available records.

The same grim patterns emerge again and again:

At least 41 % of those who died were in isolation or recently had been. 
Solitary confinement has long been known to exacerbate the symptoms of mental 
illnesses.

44 % of the deaths were by suicide, which can often be prevented with close 
monitoring.

In 70 cases, inmates were shocked with a Taser or stun gun, pepper-sprayed or 
restrained - often in some combination - before dying.

In at least 11 % of the cases, family or friends warned the jail that their 
loved one had a mental illness. In at least 6 of those, they tried to bring the 
correct medications to the jail. Without medications and proper treatment, 
someone with a disease like schizophrenia can rapidly decline. It's not 
uncommon for such inmates to wind up in isolation, naked and smearing feces 
around their cell.

For years, sheriffs, mental health advocates, families and prosecutors have 
sounded the alarm about the number of people with illnesses such as bipolar 
disorder, schizophrenia and severe depression who are sent to jail, often for 
minor crimes. Unlike prisons, which house those convicted of and sentenced for 
a crime, jails must take in anyone arrested - including those in the throes of 
a mental-health crisis.

"We are arresting people who have no idea what the laws are or the rules are 
because they're off their medications," said Nashville Sheriff Daron Hall, a 
vice president of the National Sheriffs' Association. "You'd never arrest 
someone for a heart attack, but you're comfortable arresting someone who is 
diagnosed mentally ill. No other country in the world is doing it this way."

In addition to causing pain and suffering for people with mental illness, the 
practice is costing municipalities millions.

At least 53 % of the deaths examined have resulted in a lawsuit. Combined, the 
cases have cost municipalities at least $145 million. The true cost is much 
higher - in many cases, lawsuits are still pending and in others the settlement 
amount is secret. The figures also do not take into account lawyers' fees.

The Virginian-Pilot tracked 404 deaths of people with mental illness in jails 
since 2010 in a 1st-of-its-kind examination of what happens to people with such 
diagnoses in jails throughout the country.

Examining how people with mental illness die in jail is key to understanding 
how the criminal justice system treats them in the United States, said 
Elizabeth Sinclair, director of research and public affairs for the Treatment 
Advocacy Center, a mental health advocacy group based in Arlington.

Sinclair said she sees The Pilot's research as a step toward making sure the 
system's failure is brought to the public's attention.

"The lack of data collection, the lack of accountability is such a systematic, 
widespread issue, and the fact is that this is the only database that has this 
information available to people - it points to the fact that if the data 
doesn't exist, then they can't be held accountable to what's happening," she 
said. "I think people expect the data to be collected by the criminal justice 
system, but the reality is, it's not systematically collected at any level.

"I see this as a starting point for reform, for finding out why this is 
happening and what we need to do to fix it."

A tragic pattern

Marc Moreno's death in the Benton County Jail in Washington state fits a 
pattern found time and again: A mental health crisis leads to an arrest, which 
leads to poor treatment of the illness, which leads to death.

Jessica Moreno was very close to her brother, the baby of the family. They 
would go out with friends together during the summer, often swimming or playing 
soccer. He was humble, a good kid, she said.

In March 2016, the 18-year-old was having a crisis and his family was afraid he 
would hurt himself. Moreno was diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar 
disorder, which causes alternating periods of elation and depression.

The Morenos had dealt with such situations before. A history of mental illness 
runs in the family.

Marc's father took him from treatment center to treatment center, looking for a 
bed so his son could get help.

Mental health treatment can be hard to come by in the United States. Most 
facilities are small and expensive. Finding a bed can be daunting, if not 
impossible. That often leaves family members to make sure loved ones with 
severe mental illness take their medications and stay out of trouble.

Few people with mental illness who end up in jail are career criminals, said 
John Snook, executive director of The Treatment Advocacy Center.

"Really what you are looking at is a clear failure of the mental health 
system," he said. "Very often these people ... are booked for the lack of a 
treatment bed."

Eventually the Moreno family took Marc to the Benton Franklin Crisis Response 
Unit in Kennewick, where someone called the police.

"He was not oriented to time and place, he couldn't answer basic questions," 
said Edwin Budge, the lawyer for the Moreno family. "It was pretty obvious he 
was experiencing a mental health crisis."

But rather than let him get help, police decided to arrest him March 3 on 
misdemeanor charges of driving on a suspended license and failing to transfer 
the title to a vehicle within 45 days. 8 days later he was dead.

"I'm talking to angels," the 18-year-old told the doctor evaluating him at the 
jail.

After his condition was assessed, Marc was put in a small cell by himself with 
no toilet or sink.

"There was a grate on the floor, but it wasn't sufficient for defecation," 
Budge said. He had no access to water in the cell, no bed, no mattress, no 
bench."

Just 4 walls, the floor and the constant illumination of the overhead lights.

Being locked up in isolation can exacerbate mental illnesses, causing symptoms 
to worsen as outside stimulus is reduced to a meal tray shoved through a cell 
door.

Jail officials often claim they have no other choice: They need to protect the 
inmate from the general population and vice versa.

Jessica Moreno said that her father tried to warn the jail that his son needed 
treatment, but that the staff did not listen.

In 63 % of the cases tracked by The Pilot, family members claimed that the 
jails had not properly taken care of their loved one.

Day by day, Marc's condition deteriorated.

On March 5, he was no longer answering questions. On March 6, a doctor noted 
that he'd slept less than 30 minutes in the previous 2 days.

By March 7, the 5th day of his confinement, he was smearing feces on the walls 
and rolling on the floor naked. Staff made no effort to get him mental health 
treatment or remove him from isolation.

Staff noted on March 10 that Marc had not had food or water for several days. 
He had also not been able to appear for a scheduled arraignment in front of a 
judge.

On March 11, having not had anything to eat or drink for at least 6 days, 
Moreno died in a cell. He was covered in his own waste.

"One of the things I wonder is - what was the plan?" said Budge, who 
represented Moreno's family in a lawsuit that resulted in a $1.2 million 
settlement. "Who was in charge? Was there any design for taking care of this 
young man for the long term or was it due to the lack of any place to put him 
that that was where he was going to be?"

Marc Moreno's death has left a hole in his family's heart. Jessica Moreno says 
her father blames himself for what happened. The grief and guilt in such cases 
can't be quantified.

"We were thinking we were doing the right thing, which was to try to get him 
help," she said. "And in a way we feel, oh, that's what caused him to die. ... 
What ended up was him locked up somewhere and left to die."

At the county level, there seems to be a lack of concern about preventing these 
types of deaths, Budge said. His law firm has represented families in similar 
lawsuits for more than 2 decades.

There is always an insurance company, always a payout and never any change.

"It's the type of thing that people think, 'Oh maybe this happens in North 
Korea. Maybe this happens in Iran.' But it happens right here," Budge said. 
"You can identify failures on multiple levels, but the long and short of it is 
that someone needed help. Instead they were stuck in a jail cell and left to 
rot."

Jails: the last resort

How America's jails came to warehouse the people with mental illness is no 
secret.

Deinstitutionalization, the release of patients from large institutions, began 
when Thorazine started being widely used in the 1950s. The medication was the 
first effective antipsychotic drug, calming and sedating people with 
schizophrenia and other serious mental illnesses.

By then, the horrific conditions inside America's mental hospitals were 
well-known.

"It is only after one is in trouble that one realizes how little sympathy and 
kindness there are in the world," Nellie Bly wrote in "10 Days in a Madhouse," 
her 1887 book on Blackwell's Island Asylum in New York, America's 1st municipal 
mental hospital.

The process of deinstitutionalization sped up rapidly in 1965, when Congress 
created Medicaid. The new health program excluded payments to large 
"institutions for mental diseases." That forced the shutdown of mental 
hospitals across the country and was designed to create smaller facilities 
within communities.

In 1955, state mental institutions had about 558,000 beds. There were 337 
mental hospital beds per 100,000 people in the United States, according to a 
2016 study by the Treatment Advocacy Center.

Far too few smaller community facilities opened to make up the difference. 
Today, there are roughly 12 beds per 100,000 people.

"It is not at all a coincidence that the only illness discriminated from 
Medicaid funding is mental illness and that there are so many mentally ill in 
jails," said Snook, the Treatment Advocacy Center director.

Medicaid will only pay for stays in mental-health hospitals that have no more 
than 16 beds. But facilities that small often can't survive, Snook said. "They 
are not big enough to have economies of scale. So what happens is beds 
disappear, and you have only what the state will pay for."

That leaves people with mental illness few places to go for help. Even 
obtaining, and staying on, much-needed medications can be difficult. The drugs 
can have severe side effects and may need to be changed over time.

Weak, fragmented mental health-care systems across the country have so many 
gaps that people routinely fall through the cracks, even with family guidance.

"They are looking for anyone to help, and they come up with so few resources. 
The mental health system has nothing to offer, social support systems have 
nothing to offer," said Laura Usher, a mental health advocate and the former 
senior manager for criminal justice and advocacy at the National Alliance on 
Mental Illness. "They are seen by others as people to be afraid of rather than 
as friends and neighbors."

When families can't find beds or other services, they often have nowhere else 
to turn but the police. And in many parts of the country, police have just 1 
option readily available: jail.

Since the start of deinstitutionalization, jail populations have increased 
exponentially. In 1950, American jails held about 86,500 people. By 1983 there 
were more than 223,500 inmates. In 2016, the last year for which data is 
available, the Bureau of Justice Statistics counted more than 740,700, slightly 
down from the peak of 785,500 in 2008.

The bureau estimates that 44 % of jail inmates have been told by a mental 
health professional that they have a mental disorder. More than 1/4 of the jail 
population - roughly 186,000 people - are believed to be in serious 
psychological distress.

Deinstitutionalization never really happened, said Hall, the Nashville sheriff; 
the burden of care simply shifted.

"I tell everybody we just reinstitutionalize these people in a different 
building," he said. Jails are dealing with a population that has needs beyond 
what the criminal justice system is able to address.

"It really makes no sense."

Hall remembered sitting in a National Sheriff's Association board meeting about 
3 years ago watching a presentation on a survey that sheriffs had taken to 
determine their most pressing issue. Someone had created a word cloud out of 
the answers. The biggest phrase by far was "mental health."

"From Laramie, Wyoming, to Florida to Vermont and in every Southern state and 
everywhere else, the number 1 issue facing sheriffs was mental health," Hall 
said. "It gets the attention of most people in what I call the elected offices 
in law enforcement."

A crisis without data

Still, little in the way of concrete information is being collected about the 
conditions people with mental illness endure in jail. Across the country, 
mental health diagnoses are seldom reported by jails, which can hold someone 
anywhere from a few days to years. In many cases, jails never get a definitive 
diagnosis.

As a part of The Virginian-Pilot's effort to track deaths of jail inmates with 
mental illness, students from Marquette University contacted officials in all 
50 states and the District of Columbia to find out what information they keep.

The Pilot's investigation includes every death in which there was an indication 
of mental illness before the person was arrested. But the 404 deaths counted in 
the database are likely a fraction of the true number and only hint at 
conditions for the larger population of people with mental illness in jail.

Through a voluntary questionnaire, the federal government counts more than 900 
jail deaths a year in the U.S. but gives few indications of how many of those 
inmates were mentally ill. The responses count 522 people who died behind bars 
after spending a night in a mental-health facility while in jail custody 
between 2009 and 2013, the only years for which data is available. The Justice 
Department will not release their names and does not include in its survey any 
questions to determine whether they had a mental illness before their arrest.

In most cases, inquiries to state agencies yielded little information. Only 
eight states could provide any indication of how many people with mental 
illness died in their jails.

For example, about a dozen of the 36 deaths that occurred in a Utah jail, 
prison or detention facility in 2013 and 2014 were of people with a mental 
health problem. Officials did not break down the statistics further.

In Virginia, the state Office of the Chief Medical Examiner examined National 
Violent Death Reporting System data at The Pilot's request to determine whether 
information about such deaths could be found there. It provided a report 
indicating that about 31 % of the 709 deaths in custody - which includes deaths 
in prisons, in police custody and in foster care, among other circumstances - 
were of people with mental-health problems.

Only Texas provided concrete data recording when someone with a mental illness 
died in an in-state jail. Officials there say their collection methods have 
gotten more accurate in recent years. Still, the numbers are not perfect.

Texas provided a list of 55 deaths of people with mental illness in state 
jails. The Pilot's investigation had already uncovered 36 deaths in the state, 
but only 6 of them overlapped with the Texas data.

Usher called it a "travesty" that months of research went into finding out how 
people with mental illness die in jails and that the picture is still so 
incomplete.

"I don't think anyone has investigated this as thoughtfully and thoroughly," 
she said of The Pilot's database. "And I think it shows how far we have to go 
in treating people with mental-health conditions with humanity and dignity. 
It's also outrageous that this sort of information, this sort of data is not 
available publicly. Our jails and our criminal justice system should be held 
accountable."

In October 2019, the Bureau of Justice Assistance will start collecting more 
accurate data on deaths in police and jail custody. The collection, which has 
been long delayed, was prompted by the 2013 Death in Custody Reporting Act, 
sponsored by U.S. Rep. Bobby Scott, D-Newport News.

The bureau also will have the ability to withhold some funding from jails and 
police agencies that do not submit their data, likely making it a far more 
accurate count of such deaths.

Jails will be asked to submit basic demographic information, as well as the 
date, time and location of death, the law enforcement agency involved and a 
brief description of the circumstances.

The bureau will not, a Justice Department spokeswoman said, collect any 
specific information on whether the person involved was mentally ill.

Scott, who also sponsored the 2013 bill's predecessor more than 2 decades 
earlier, believes the Justice Department should collect data on mental illness, 
even if it is just in the brief description.

"At least start collecting it. Then people can start doing some research," he 
said. "The 1st step is to get the data. You can review the data and find out 
what's happening. And if it's suicides, you can look and find out how they 
committed suicide."

Without data, Scott said, you don't know what the problems are. And if you 
don't know what the problems are, you can't fix them.

"You know, it seems like a little thing," he said.

One jail at a crossroads

Tucked behind a gas station off Interstate 264 in Portsmouth, the Hampton Roads 
Regional Jail looks like a series of oversized gray Lego bricks nestled among 
the trees.

The scene outside, with its ponds, geese and flagpole is almost serene.

Inside is another matter. Every day, the staff confronts the mental health 
issues facing all jails, and then some.

The facility has become the physical and mental health-care jail for Norfolk, 
Portsmouth, Chesapeake, Hampton and Newport News - 5 of Virginia's largest 
municipalities.

The regional jail houses about 1,100 inmates a day. Unlike most jails 
nationally, which are run by a sheriff, it is managed by a board of local city 
managers, sheriffs and city council members.

A dumping ground for inmates with all kinds of sickness, it is the largest 
mental health care center in Virginia.

That has led to tragedy.

The cell at Hampton Roads Regional Jail where 24-year-old Jamycheal Mitchell 
was found dead Aug. 19, 2015. He had been charged with theft and was awaiting 
trial.

In April 2015, Jamycheal Mitchell stole a soda and snack cake from a 7-Eleven 
and ended up in the regional jail. Mitchell, who was bipolar and schizophrenic, 
thought that the store was owned by his father and that he could take what he 
wanted.

A judge ordered him twice to a state mental hospital so his competency could be 
restored and he could stand trial. Court clerks claim the first order was lost 
in the mail on its way to the hospital. The 2nd was tucked into a desk drawer 
and forgotten.

Once, jailers tried to send him to the hospital through an emergency order, but 
he was in court when someone from the local mental health agency arrived and 
the person never came back.

Through the spring and summer, Mitchell's condition worsened. He was given no 
clothes, only a suicide smock that resembles something between a blanket and a 
mattress pad. He complained that his cell was constantly cold. In a moment of 
lucidity, he told a fellow inmate that he stood by the small window in his cell 
door all the time because he felt some heat there from the overhead light.

Family members said they begged the jail for help for Mitchell but got nowhere.

Mitchell clogged his toilet, which caused it to overflow, leading jailers to 
shut off his water.

Inmates in isolation often flood their cells. Doing so is one of the few ways 
they can influence their environment.

Mitchell's feet swelled from constant pacing.

On Aug. 19, 2015, 3 months after he was first ordered to a mental hospital, 
Mitchell died alone in his cell with feces on the walls and urine on the floor. 
The official cause of death was "wasting disease."

He is 1 of 71 inmates with schizophrenia or bipolar disease counted by The 
Pilot's database to have died alone in a cell since 2010.

A Justice Department investigation and a lawsuit are still pending in the case.

Since Mitchell's death, the jail has also received a grant of nearly a million 
dollars to help with staffing for mental health care workers. New management 
has worked hard to prevent more deaths in the jail and to care for people with 
mental illness housed there.

"I think it's fair to say with the leadership having left, with the Department 
of Justice investigating, with the number of lawsuits, there was definitely a 
crisis. The community did not trust the jail," said Linda Bryant, who spent 
more than a year as the facility's assistant superintendent following 
Mitchell's death.

The staff there now - most of whom are longtime employees - do care about doing 
a good job, Bryant said. They realize their work is more about responding to 
and preventing crises than about meting out punishment.

But they routinely find themselves in impossible situations.

A social worker at the jail had to press charges against a severely mentally 
ill inmate who masturbated whenever he saw her.

An inmate who took a bedsheet and climbed atop a basketball backboard had to be 
talked out of killing himself.

A man taking medications for depression so severe that he was nearly catatonic 
had to be watched carefully once the drugs started working. Now that he had 
more energy he could move around, which meant he might try to kill himself.

Each morning, high-level staff members - jail and mental health professionals - 
start by studying a whiteboard of their sickest inmates. Their goal is to make 
it to the next day with everyone alive.

It is a daunting task, especially with chronic staff shortages.

In December, Jonathan Ellis tied a sheet to the end of his bedpost and killed 
himself. Ronaldo Myers, the superintendent at the time, said there simply 
weren't enough staff members keeping eyes on inmates.

Myers asked the legislature for an additional $5 million for 31 permanent and 
50 temporary positions.

In March the General Assembly rejected the funding increase.

Myers left his job by the end of the month.

The new superintendent has not asked the 5 cities to increase funding to pay 
for the positions. The jail has hired people, reducing the number of unfilled 
jobs from 36 in January to 9 in August. Officials have also converted some 
support positions that had been staffed by sworn officers to civilian, freeing 
up more than a dozen officers to work directly with inmates.

In January, Myers made the case in an interview that Mitchell's death had 
raised awareness of the jail's needs.

"The eyes are open. Now there are some dollars that need to be put behind 
everything to keep the system moving," he said. "Because if the system gets 
stagnant, guess what we are going to do? We are going to fall back on the same 
old thing soon as everything quiets down."

"They did kill her"

Larryn Rayburn's 2015 death in the Pontotoc County Justice Center in Oklahoma 
still haunts her mother, Terryl. The family's suffering is part of the sad 
routine of such cases.

Like 124 others in the database, Larryn Rayburn had bipolar disorder.

Like 43 others, her loved ones tried to warn the jail about her mental illness.

And as in 254 other cases, there were allegations that the jail or medical 
provider did not properly treat her mental illness.

Rayburn was arrested and ordered to be held overnight in the jail for admitted 
marijuana use, according to a lawsuit by the family's attorney. She was 
supposed to return to court the next morning, but the jail didn't bring her 
back.

Instead she, like at least 178 others placed in jail with mental illness, died 
by suicide.

"Our view isn't that she committed suicide," said Terryl Rayburn. "Our view is 
that she was a victim of manslaughter. Nobody purposely set out to kill her, 
but due to their actions, they did kill her."

Usher, who has worked with many people struggling with mental illness through 
the National Alliance on Mental Illness, said that families are usually trying 
to help and are desperate to find services.

"They are told they can't get help until their loved one does something 
dangerous," she said. "And clearly jail is not a safe place for people with 
mental illness, which your data clearly shows."

What many people don't realize, Usher said, is that mental health treatment 
works if people can get it.

"And even for people who are very ill and have very serious conditions, there 
is a lot of great recovery stories. Lots of people do really well if they get 
the right support," she said. "It requires leadership and compassion and some 
resources."

Hall, the Nashville sheriff, said that although the country's sheriffs are a 
diverse group, the need to better address mental health care in jails is one 
issue that most, if not all, agree on.

Ultimately, money needs to be redirected from jails treatment, he said, and 
people with mental illness charged with minor crimes need to be kept out of the 
criminal justice system altogether.

"I think you have to look people in the face, like myself and people in these 
positions, and say, 'Look, you don't need the money you have in your budget,'" 
Hall said.

"I think that's how we got here," he said. "It became sexier to call it public 
safety and hire police, buy police cars and jails and all that. And so you 
would need to remove that money out and put it in the hands of what I think is 
a health issue, not a criminal justice matter."

Providing better mental-health care is not cost-prohibitive, but it requires 
looking at big systems such as criminal justice and mental health care, and 
figuring out how to best spend tax dollars and treat people, Usher said.

"It requires that you look at and address the whole system rather than just one 
piece at a time," she said. "You are spending a lot of money on jailing people, 
salaries for correctional officers, homeless services, ER beds - all that 
emergency and crisis care. So we are spending a lot of money there that we 
might be saving if we were providing counseling and case management. It's a 
much better investment on the front end."

Until that investment happens, mental illness will go on being criminalized.

And the deaths of inmates with mental illness in America???s jails are bound to 
continue.

(source: Gary Harki is an investigative reporter at The Virginian-Pilot. He was 
named the Virginia Press Association's Outstanding Journalist of the Year in 
2017. He is currently a fellow at Marquette University's O'Brien Fellowship in 
Public Service Journalism)

[How we reported this story: The Virginian-Pilot and students from Marquette 
University in Milwaukee tracked 404 deaths of people with mental illness in 
jails since 2010 in a first-of-its-kind examination of what happens in such 
cases throughout the country.

The actual number of deaths for the period is likely significantly higher than 
what could be documented through available records.

To create the database, The Pilot and Marquette students drew from news 
reports, existing databases and court filings.

Sources for this project include:

Newspaper and media reports from across the country

Community Resource Services' Detention and Corrections Caselaw Catalog

Federal and state court filings

Texas Commission On Jail Standards' database of jail deaths

Texas custodial death reports

Treatment Advocacy Center's Preventable Tragedies Database

A note about Texas: The state is overrepresented in the database because it 
provided more detailed information than any other state.]