Mainstreet Radio’s Rachel Reabe visits a correctional facility in Faribault. Secure behind high chain link fences topped with coiled razor wire, the oldest prisoners in the system live out their remaining years.
The nation's prisons are home to an increasing number of senior citizens. The number of Minnesota inmates over age 55 more than tripled in the last dozen years -- due in large part to some of the toughest prison sentences in the country.
RACHEL REABE: The group of old men sit outside in the warm morning sun. From here, they can watch birds at the feeder and discuss what vegetables they should grow this year in the garden. They talk about their aches and pains and wonder when or if they will ever get out of prison.
WILLARD WHITMORE: My name is Willard Whitmore. I'll be 79 May 1. And I've been down here incarcerated for four years.
RACHEL REABE: Whitmore, a slim man with a head full of white hair and bright blue eyes, is a convicted sex offender. He says his family has nothing to do with him. He's lost his home and business.
WILLARD WHITMORE: You have to learn to accept. How did that old song go? You got to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative.
RACHEL REABE: For Whitmore, the positive is serving his sentence in the dormitory-like atmosphere of Linden, the geriatric unit at the Faribault prison. Here, after washing the windows of the commons area every day, he's free to read a book or play an occasional game of cards. Faced with an increasing number of elderly prisoners, Minnesota's Department of Corrections decided four years ago to move them to the Faribault facility. Warden Lou Stender says it makes sense from an economic and humanitarian point of view.
LOU STENDER: They're old. They're retired. What do retired people do? They're living out their remainder of their days as gracefully and as well as they can. And we provide the medical attention and the things that they need.
They have done a lot of time, in some cases done their time. They want a day without the hassles that occur in cell blocks with kids who are 18 to 25 years of age. And they don't have to deal with that in this setting.
RACHEL REABE: But the senior citizens in Linden still have rules to follow, lots of them, and are physically counted six times a day.
SPEAKER: Mr. Hall, Mr. Muhammad, Mr. Nelson--
RACHEL REABE: Minnesota has 133 inmates over the age of 55, about 2% of the prison population. The numbers are expected to steadily increase, the result of an aging population and some of the nation's stiffest prison sentences. Old prisoners are expensive, costing almost three times as much as younger ones. Dana Baumgartner, health care administrator for the Department of Corrections, says they spend almost $1 million a year on health care for the seniors.
DANA BAUMGARTNER: These are people who have lived lifestyles that have resulted in lots of chemical abuse, drug and alcohol, years of cigarette smoking, and oftentimes years of medical neglect of chronic medical problems.
RACHEL REABE: In the workroom at Linden, a handful of men sit at long tables, folding and gluing file folders. 69-year-old Earl Ross sits in a special chair to support the artificial joints in his hip and knee. Ross, who has high blood pressure and a heart condition, is a child molester with five more years to serve. Although he spent most of his adult life in prison, Ross says his worst fear is dying behind bars.
EARL ROSS: I should be 75 if they turn me loose. But I don't think they'll turn me loose. They seem to think that there's no hope for us guys that's been locked up so long. But I disagree with them because I think there's hope in every man.
RACHEL REABE: Most of the men in Linden are murderers or sex offenders. Health services director Jan Hanlon says their primary responsibility is the public safety.
JAN HANLON: The public may think, why are they behind bars? They certainly wouldn't pose any risk any longer because they're old. You need to keep in mind the offense that they committed. So basically, we don't just release anyone from prison until they are practically bedridden. And we're pretty much assured that there's no way that they could recommit another offense.
RACHEL REABE: Hanlon says the majority of these seniors will outlive their prison sentences. Curtis Owens Bay is 69 years old and has a year and a half left to serve. A convicted murderer, Owens Bay has been locked up 15 years.
CURTIS OWENS BAY: To tell you the truth, I've had a lot of thoughts about I might end up dying here. I might not never be able to hit the streets again. I want out of here. I want to be able to go home. I got grandkids I never see. I want to spend some time with them.
RACHEL REABE: Owens Bay keeps busy baking the cakes and breads served in the prison cafeteria. Earl Ross has taught himself to play guitar. Minnesota's senior prison population is expected to continue growing about 6% a year.
Officials are exploring other cost-effective options for housing aging offenders. As for the older prisoners themselves, they say they try to stay out of trouble and serve their prison terms one day at a time, hoping and praying they live long enough to go free. I'm Rachel Reabe for Mainstreet Radio.
EARL ROSS: Did you hear me get off on that note? You're making me nervous, that damn thing.
[GUITAR MUSIC]
Digitization made possible by the State of Minnesota Legacy Amendment’s Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund, approved by voters in 2008.
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