DADEVILLE, Ala. — As a storm approached, an inmate sentenced to 20 years for armed robbery, Jake Jones, was tasked with transporting fellow prisoners to work at private factories that supply major retailers like Home Depot and Wayfair. Despite his history, including a previous escape and multiple failed drug tests, he found himself unsupervised and entrusted with the responsibility of driving.

While driving back to the work-release center with six other incarcerated workers, heavy rain began to fall. Jones, known for his reckless driving, reportedly accelerated down a rural road, distracted by music in his earbuds. The van hit a dip, skidded on the slick pavement, and crashed into a tree. Two passengers were ejected from the van, leading to their deaths. Jones, who was critically injured, had to be extricated from the vehicle, his condition worsened by his slumped position against the horn. Meanwhile, the other survivors were left questioning why the Alabama Department of Corrections would trust their lives to someone like Jones.

“They were aware of his drinking tendencies,” stated Shawn Wasden, one of the crash survivors. “And yet they still let him drive.”

Alabama has a long and deeply ingrained history of utilizing prison labor, dating back over a century and a half, which has established a framework for monetizing mass incarceration. Over 500 businesses, including Best Western, Bama Budweiser, and Burger King, have employed workers from a prison system notorious for violence and overcrowding within the last five years, generating over $250 million for the state since the year 2000 through deductions from inmate wages.

Most work opportunities are found within facilities, where many inmates, often from minority backgrounds, labor under harsh conditions with little or no pay. However, over 10,000 inmates have also clocked in a total of 17 million hours of work outside prison walls since 2018, contributing labor to local governments and various private businesses, including major automotive and food companies.

Although inmates can earn a minimal hourly wage of $7.25, the state takes 40% off the top while imposing additional fees, such as $5 a day for transportation to their jobs and $15 monthly for laundry services. Rejecting work can have dire consequences, including losing family visit privileges or being transferred to higher-security prisons notorious for their brutality. In the previous year, only 8% of eligible inmates were granted parole, tying for the lowest rate in the country.

“This system is fundamentally broken,” remarked Alabama lawmaker Chris England, who advocates for reform.

Inmates frequently spend 40 hours a week working outside their prisons, receiving weekend passes allowing them to visit home without oversight. Yet, when offenders are deemed too dangerous for release, it appears to perpetuate a cycle of exploitation where they are used as an inexpensive labor force.

Arthur Ptomey, who has been employed at multiple private companies over six years, claimed he was denied parole in 2022 after criticizing low pay while working at KFC. Despite having years of experience, he found that even high school students in similar positions were earning more than him.

He is among ten current and former inmates pursuing a federal class-action lawsuit against state officials and various corporations, alleging that this framework establishes a “modern-day form of slavery” devaluing skilled workers’ rights to freedom.

Currently, Ptomey performs labor for Progressive Finishes, one of the highest-profile contractors utilizing prison labor. The company supplies a variety of automotive manufacturers, including Ford and General Motors.

“For many of these roles, the mentality is clear: if you don’t meet our expectations, we will simply find someone else,” Ptomey expressed during a recent temporary release to visit family. “I appreciate working outdoors, but I did not sign up to be treated this way.”

Kelly Betts, from the corrections department, defended these work programs as instrumental in preparing inmates for reintegration into society. However, she admitted that even those sentenced to life without parole might qualify for work-release jobs.

The criteria for employment in external positions are shaped more by inmates’ conduct behind bars than by their actual crimes. It is common for individuals with serious offenses, including homicide, to work in public environments, some serving sentences of over 15 years. Betts emphasized that many choose work to alleviate the confinement of prison life, asserting that participation should not be considered coercive.

Alabama’s prisons are frequently understaffed, leading to instances where inmates are provided no oversight while working outside their facilities—often resulting in escapes, informally dubbed “walkaways.” When prompted about how inmates are selected for these unsupervised roles, Betts stated that each case is assessed individually based on personal histories.

Responses from several companies worried about employment practices noted that they do not engage directly with work-release programs. For instance, Home Depot intends to investigate any links to the furniture maker involved in the van crash while ensuring that their suppliers do not exploit prison labor. Similarly, McDonald’s and Best Western deny any involvement in such practices at their independently operated locations.

A two-year investigation focused on the state’s prison labor revealed that Alabama accumulated over $13 million in work-release fees during the last fiscal year, benefiting from a significant correctional system with a noteworthy reliance on paid labor. According to estimates, the true financial gain from prison labor could exceed $450 million annually once various expenditures are factored in.

Historically, Alabama has resorted to forced labor since the aftermath of the Civil War, where predominantly Black prisoners found themselves compelled to perform hard labor for small infractions. Although convict leasing was abolished in Alabama in 1928 due to deplorable living conditions, issues surrounding prison labor continue.

By the 1970s, severe treatment of mentally ill inmates prompted federal intervention, and in an attempt to alleviate overcrowding, the Department of Corrections pivoted to a system that prioritized behavior to determine inmates’ job eligibility. This shift happened despite concerns, as many qualified inmates were those considered to represent a significant portion of the penal population due to their long sentences.

Currently, although some view state-sponsored prison labor as exploitative, others regard it as instrumental in rehabilitation, emphasizing the necessity of work for personal development. Despite some satisfaction among inmates for work opportunities, the extortionate tax deductibles and fees result in them earning meager amounts after their hard labor.

For private businesses, the perks of hiring jailed laborers are significant. Companies benefit from reduced costs and a readily available workforce willing to fill shifts, even during holidays, all while avoiding liabilities associated with workplace injuries or fatalities.

The extensive use of prison labor and its integration into major retail chains has drawn national attention, with fast food giants among those reconsidering their affiliations with prison labor practices due to growing public scrutiny. In Alabama, prisoners have engaged with numerous notable businesses for a variety of roles over the last few years.

The extensive legal battle continues, with allegations of racial disparities in parole decisions contributing to a growing outcry from advocates demanding fair wages and rights for prison laborers. The state’s attorney general has previously dismissed arguments regarding involuntary servitude within the correctional system.

For many returning citizens and their families, the complex reality of prison labor remains challenging, as the tragic accidents related to inmate transport highlight the stakes involved in these labor systems. As highlighted by one story, the devastating loss of a young life due to unsupervised work merits greater scrutiny and calls into question the ethical implications of such practices in the state.