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All these men are calling from inside Parchman Prison, a prison deep in the Mississippi Delta.
a prison that's notorious for its brutal conditions. In March, we sent letters to prisoners we knew in Parchment, asking to talk to them about how things were going. Word got around, and a reporter at Parker Yesco's phone started to ring. Hello?
At that point, no one at Parchman had been diagnosed with COVID-19. But we kept reporting. And within six weeks, two inmates had tested positive for the virus, and one of them died. Not a widespread outbreak. Not yet. Six weeks, two cases, and one death. This is a story of those six weeks, told by the men who lived it, from inside Parchman Prison.
This is In the Dark, Coronavirus in the Delta. I'm Madeline Barron. I've spent the past two months, along with the rest of the In the Dark team, reporting on coronavirus in the Mississippi Delta, the poorest part of Mississippi, one of the poorest places in the entire country. In this series, we're bringing you stories of people trying to live in this really hard time, trying to make decisions, trying to get by, in a situation that none of us have faced before. Episode 2, Parchment.
Hello? Hello. Hey there, how are you doing? Randy Anderson calls our reporter Parker Yesko from Unit 30A at Parchman Prison.
Man, the phone is terrible quality. Does it always sound like this? Oh my gosh. Randy was convicted of murder in 1997 when he was 20. He's been in prison ever since. This is Parson, Ms. Parson. I know everything is rigged up. You know, one day it might work, one day it might not work.
Parchman's Unit 30A, where Randy lives, is basically just a big open room. It's bunk beds laid out in rows. And how many guys are in the dorm? There are at least two TVs in Randy's zone. They're on all the time. During the day, the TVs mostly play sports and old movies. Like this one day, a bunch of guys are gathered around watching a Jim Carrey movie. Pet control. I hate Ventura. Pet control. I mean, pet detector.
But in the evening, they watch the news. The local news come on at 5, 5.30. The world news come on at 5.30. Randy watches the news every night. And so by this point, in late March, Randy already knows a lot about this new virus, the coronavirus. I mean, this stuff is serious, you know what I'm saying? And Randy also knows what you're supposed to do to protect yourself from the virus. He's heard the experts talking on the TV. Wash your hands, distance yourself from other people.
But doing all of that in prison is pretty much impossible. Like, take social distancing. But in Randy's zone, this big room, there are about 108 men. They sleep in bunk beds. The inmates call them racks. And they're spaced incredibly close together. The bunks are so close together that when you're lying in bed, all without getting out of bed. They still bust you up like that. They just have it. They do it here.
Or take washing your hands. First of all, parchment doesn't even have hot water some of the time. And the water that does come out of the faucet, that you're supposed to use to wash your hands, according to Randy, it's filthy. Yesterday, the water was brown.
And then some days I have a real bad smell. Like sewage. You ever have tobacco from the sewage? Yes, ma'am. The water you wash your hands with, the water you shower with, the water you drink. I mean, that's the only water we have.
And this combination of Randy knowing what he should do and the reality that there's no way he could do it in these early days in late March is making him pretty anxious. I just try to cope with it, you know. Try to keep my head jeans up and I try to keep praying and hoping, you know. But like I say, I don't know. Is it going to get worse or is it going to get better? I don't know. The past year or so has been a particularly bad one at Parchman, even before the pandemic.
Since late December, 20 inmates have died, including five who appeared to have been killed by other inmates and three who appear to have killed themselves. Videos and photos surfaced on the Internet. They showed overflowing toilets, flooded hallways, inmates fighting, blood smeared on walls, buildings filled with fire and smoke, rats roaming the halls, sewage water flooding the cells. In the summer, the temperature easily climbs to 100 degrees because there's no air conditioning.
And on top of all that, sometimes as many as several hundred cells are without electricity, so no lights at all. And the inmates are stuck dealing with these conditions in rooms so dark, it's hard to tell the difference between night and day. Earlier this year, a group led in part by the rapper Jay-Z helped to file two lawsuits on behalf of inmates to try to improve conditions at Parchman.
One of the lawsuits says, quote, And now the prisoners have a new problem.
a highly contagious virus, a virus that could easily sweep through the narrow hallways, crowded dining halls, and rows of bunks and infect them. That's happening at a lot of prisons and jails around the country right now. There's some places with outbreaks of hundreds of cases in a single prison. And guys at Parchman Prison know about these outbreaks. They hear about them on the news. And they spend their days wondering when COVID-19 will arrive in Parchman.
And yet, by late March, there are still no confirmed cases inside Parchman Prison. But that is about to change. April 1st. Hey there, how you doing? Is this Randy? Yes, ma'am. Hey, Randy, how you doing? Well, I'm making it. I'm making this bargain, you know. I ain't doing too good, but I'm making it.
Rumors are starting to fly around Randy's unit. Rumors that maybe a Parchman guard has caught the virus, could be spreading it. Sometimes the guard in these rumors is a woman, sometimes it's a man. There are all kinds of stories getting passed around. And how'd you hear that? Through the grapevine. So how are you doing?
One is like you're not worried at all, and 10 is like you're really, really worried. You're already at 10. Because the prison isn't telling the inmates much, basically everything the prison does, especially anything out of the ordinary, the inmates view with suspicion as a possible sign that coronavirus has entered the prison.
Like Randy says, that just yesterday, guards showed up and moved everyone out of the zone for a few hours so they could clean it. So they took you to the gym so they could clean the unit? Yes, ma'am. It really wasn't no big clean. They just come in and just wipe down the wall with lipids and certain little poles, and that was it.
And is that a normal thing, or is that new? That's the first time they've ever come in and done a big clean? Randy wonders, did the prison clean his zone as a precaution, or did it clean it because someone who'd been on the unit had coronavirus? Things like this only make Randy and the other men on his unit feel more anxious.
So people have started trying to make masks for themselves. People got towels on their face or socks? How do you know it's dirty?
You can look at it and tell. It's a sock coming out. They've been wearing it. And how do you put it on your face? Some of the guys got small faces, you know what I'm saying? Little small heads. They tie it around to the back of their head. Some guys, they got the big head, they take out a towel around their face. Yeah, some guys put socks on their head and some put a towel around it.
Randy's built a little cocoon around his bed. Oh, your bed sheet. Every night you do this, you hang a blanket and a sheet over the side of your rack?
You block the whole thing off, basically, from the outside world. Eddie Arrington lives in a building across the prison from Randy in Unit 26,
The men on Unit 26 wear special green and white striped uniforms, and they travel all around the prison to lots of different buildings to do much of the work that keeps Parchman Prison running. The guys in Unit 26 are, generally speaking, a quieter bunch.
The men live in groups of sometimes seven or eight in little alcoves along the edges of a big room. The inmates call the little alcoves cubes. The cubes make Unit 26 seem a little less like a warehouse than the wide open room with all the bunk beds in it that Randy lives in.
A lot of the men on Unit 26 are religious. There's a weekly prayer meeting here, where an inmate named Earl Dykus leads the guys in Bible study. It's near Eddie's Cube. He'll have a church call on Sunday. He'll preach a sermon or something, you know, have a Bible study, prayer call. You go up there and he'll pray with you. Earl's been in prison for 37 years for killing two people.
He has a morning routine. He wakes up every day before dawn when everyone else is sleeping, leaves his cube, and goes into the day room to drink his coffee and read his Bible. And because a lot of the guys on Unit 26 are older, they're maybe even more worried about the coronavirus than people in other units.
There's a lot of men on the unit who've got some pretty serious health conditions. There's a guy in a wheelchair who can't go to the bathroom by himself. There's a man named Vernon Threadgill. He goes by Mr. Blind. Earl Dykus is 66 years old. He just came back from having surgery on his knee. Calvin Morrow has a whole laundry list of medical conditions. I'm really scared because I got COPD and emphysema. I got a bad heart, too. I got what you call angina. If I catch it, I'm dead.
Eddie Arrington just wants to make it to his next parole hearing. He's been in Parchman for 40 years. He got locked up when he was 18 for murder, and he's now nearing 60. He says he also has all kinds of health problems, including a hernia that's gone untreated for years. I'm going to take one more shot and try to get out of here.
Eddie says his parole hearing is in 2021. He hopes he might be able to finally get out of Parchman, if he survives the pandemic. April 2nd. Something else is happening across the prison in an entirely different building. Hello? Ms. Parker? An inmate named Larry Jenkins, who's serving 60 years for sex crimes, calls Parker with alarming news. How are you doing? Oh, scared to death. I'm not going to tell you a lie, Ms. Parker. I'm scared to death.
The superintendent of Parchman Prison, a man named Marshall Turner, had just walked onto Larry's zone in Unit 30D, surrounded by guards, his own entourage.
He called us all to the front, the whole zone. We all came up front, all 108 of us. Made us turn off the television so we could hear. And he said, I'm not answering any questions. I'm going to tell you what you need to know because I've got to go. And explained that there had been someone in our building tested positive for COVID-19. So it's possible that we may have been exposed.
As for who that person was, the person who might have brought coronavirus into Larry's building, the superintendent wouldn't say. But Larry and some of the other guys on his unit believe it was probably a guard. The guards are the ones who go in and out of the prison every day, the ones who live out in the free world where coronavirus is already spreading. It's not hard to imagine a guard could get infected out there and bring the virus back inside. The superintendent made an announcement. This part of the prison, the room where Larry lives,
was now under quarantine. And nobody asked any questions. We got to shut up. This is what he got to say.
Basically, the superintendent was saying coronavirus could be in here, so to protect everyone else in the prison, all the other inmates, all the guards on other units, we're shutting the door and leaving you in here for seven days to see what happens. The seven days of quarantine passed slowly. We couldn't go anywhere. They brought us trays for our meals, you know, styrofoam trays. Every day the nurses came around and checked our temperatures. The prison doesn't give them masks, Larry says.
And he says most of the guards who come through the building every day aren't wearing masks either. How can we socially distance ourselves if we're already crowded three feet apart? No masks, no protective, no PPE whatsoever. It's impossible. Day one passes. Day two passes.
One day during the quarantine, Larry sees on TV that Jay-Z's group is donating 100,000 masks to inmates at jails and prisons across the country, including 5,000 masks to Parchment, more than enough for one mask for each inmate. Good Morning America had it on the ticker that Roc Nation, which is Jay-Z and the other guy, G. Gotti or whatever his name is, they sent 5,000 masks to Parchment. But the masks don't make it to Larry's unit.
No one seems to have them. We don't know what happened to the mass. We have not received the first one. And so, Larry and the other men in his zone wait and watch each other as the days of quarantine tick by. Day three. I'm in one piece. As long as I'm in one piece, we're doing good. Day four. Just lay there and cross your fingers. Day five. Still no sign of the virus. Day six. There's nothing else we can do.
Finally, day seven. And still, no one's sick. We've been a week without any of the symptoms or any other apparently infected people. Larry is healthy. No one seems to have the virus. Although without testing anyone, who knows? The quarantine on Larry's building is lifted. And then, on the very same day that the quarantine is lifted...
Earl Dykus, the Bible study guy from Unit 26, calls his wife. He's coughing. We'll be back right after the break. I'm Dan Taberski. In 2011, something strange began to happen at the high school in Leroy, New York. I was like at my locker and she came up to me and she was like stuttering super bad. I'm like, stop f***ing around. She's like...
I can't. A mystery illness, bizarre symptoms, and spreading fast. It's like doubling and tripling, and it's all these girls. With a diagnosis the state tried to keep on the down low. Everybody thought I was holding something back. Well, you were holding something back intentionally. Yeah, well, yeah. Yeah.
Is this the largest mass hysteria since The Witches of Salem? Or is it something else entirely? A new limited series from Wondery and Pineapple Street Studios, Hysterical.
Follow Hysterical on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of Hysterical early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. Support for this podcast comes from Sutter Health. From doctors who never stop answering your questions to cardiac specialty centers that never stop helping hearts. Sutter is more than 220 hospitals and clinics that never stop caring for Californians. SutterHealth.org.
He called me on Thursday, and he was really sick. This is Barbara Dykus, Earl Dykus' wife. And he could only talk for about two minutes because he couldn't talk without coughing.
In that two minutes, he told me to ask everybody to pray for him, that he was on three antibiotics, and that he was just coughing all the time. And when did the cough start? He's had a cough for some time. I talk to him at least twice a week.
And the cough was consistent. And I would ask him about it. And he'd, well, maybe they'll give me something from a big toe. What's that mean? It means that their medical attention is not the best. Oh, I get, like, it's sarcastic. Like, I got a problem in my lung. Maybe they'll treat my toe. Yeah.
If you're getting the Tylenol, you're doing well. So if he got three antibiotics, they knew it was serious. Parchman Prison won't comment on what happened to Earl Dykus. But in the past few weeks, we've been talking to members of the Dykus family and to four men who lived with Earl on Unit 26. According to what they've told us, here's what happened to Earl.
Toward the end of March, Earl got really sick. About a week passed before Earl was seen by a medical provider in the prison. He was given some medication. We don't know what exactly. According to an inmate on the unit, Earl was given some ibuprofen and cold medicine. According to one of Earl's family members, he was given some antibiotics.
For a few days, Earl lay in bed with a bad cough, in his cube with the other inmates. He wasn't eating. Eventually, Earl was taken out of the unit again. And for days, the men on Unit 26 didn't hear anything more about what had happened to Earl.
But then one day, an officer walked onto the unit. The officer was there to deal with Earl's belongings. That's when we knew. Right then, we knew. Earl did, you know. Earl Dykus had died. It turns out that after Earl had left the unit, he was transferred to a regular hospital outside of the prison, a hospital in Greenville, Mississippi. Earl died in that hospital.
The cause of death, according to a death certificate the family shared with us, was pneumonia due to COVID-19. COVID-19 had officially arrived in Parchman Prison. The Mississippi Department of Corrections released a statement saying that one of its inmates had died and that he tested positive for COVID-19. The statement didn't use Earl's name. It just said, an inmate. The news release said, quote,
The inmate, who had underlying health conditions, was tested when he began exhibiting symptoms and was immediately medically isolated, pending results. The results did not come in until after the inmate had died. Back on Unit 26, the guards didn't want to deal with Earl's belongings themselves. A guard told the inmates, somebody pack Earl's stuff up. No one wanted to do it. A lot of inmates were scared to go back there.
Some of them said, it ain't rolling back there. I might catch the virus, catch Corona. That was some of them saying. Earl's old friend Vernon, Mr. Blind, was there during all this, and he stepped in. I put on some gloves. I went to clean it out and clean that package of stuff up. There wasn't much. A few letters, Earl's Bible. I put all this stuff in a sheet, tied it up, took it out in the hall.
As for cleaning the area, according to the inmates, the prison didn't send anyone to clean the zone, or even just to clean the area in the cube where Earl slept. So Vernon took it upon himself to try to clean Earl's cube as best he could. I cleaned out the bracket we're sleeping on, and I sprayed it down, sprayed the bed down real good. The mattress and pillow, I sprayed it down, and I set them outside to go to the garbage.
After taking away Earl's belongings, prison officials came back onto Unit 26. According to the inmates, they pulled aside the four or so men who'd shared a cube with Earl and tested each of them for COVID-19. While the men waited for the results to come back, they had lots of time to sit around and wonder. And Calvin was getting angry. Well, I don't know if this man next to me got it or this man got it. Everybody was worried and nobody was telling nobody nothing.
A few days later, prison officials returned to Unit 26. Eddie said this time they were dressed in protective gear from head to toe. Face masks and face shields, gowns and gloves. When they came, the way they were dressed, we know that something was wrong. They called out a name, the name of one of Earl's cube mates. They come straight in and tell him, come on out.
And the officers was trying to stay away from her. I could tell that. And I said, yeah, he's got it. And then somebody else said, yeah, I think he does, too. The man stood up and walked to the door and was escorted out of the zone. That's it. Next thing I know, he was gone.
The man was moved to another part of the prison, apparently to be quarantined. And the zone he'd been living on was also placed on quarantine for two weeks. We still don't know how Earl Dykus contracted COVID-19. Who gave it to him? The Mississippi Department of Corrections declined our request to interview the head of the department and the head of Parchman Prison. In a statement emailed to us, a spokesperson for the Department of Corrections said,
said the department cannot discuss the health of individual inmates because of HIPAA privacy rule protections. And we don't know how far the virus has spread inside Parchman Prison. The Mississippi Department of Corrections has said that there have been no other confirmed cases of COVID-19 in Parchman Prison, just two. But as of today, Tuesday, May 5th, out of the thousands of inmates in state custody in Mississippi, 2,000-some men at Parchman
and another 16,000 or so inmates at other facilities around the state. The Mississippi Department of Corrections has tested just 33. I was talking the other day to a Parchman inmate named Marlon Howell. Marlon sees all this a little differently from the other men because Marlon is in a cell all by himself, just sitting there all day, every day, alone. Marlon's in a single cell because he's on death row for a murder he says he didn't commit.
And the cell that Marlon is in, it's the very same cell where Curtis Flowers used to live before Curtis's conviction was overturned and he got out of prison. I was talking with Marlon about how a person deals with this virus, the not knowing, the risk of catching it, and the helplessness that it's easy for any of us to feel, but especially for people in prison.
Marlon told me about something he learned from watching the show Dr. Oz, about what to do when you're feeling scared.
When you feel your blood pressure rising and you feel like you're having an anxiety issue, you know, just start up a breathing regimen. So that's what I try to do. I just lay still. I just lay still, lay flat on my back. And I take, you know, deep breaths in and deep breaths out. And I try to count, you know, try to count to 10. I inhale and I hold it. And I exhale and I release it.
We're continuing to report on what's happening inside Parchman Prison, and we'll keep you posted. There is one update. Inmates have gotten face masks. An inmate texted us a photo of one of them. You can see it on our website. In the Dark, Coronavirus in the Delta is reported and produced by me, Madeline Barron, managing producer Samara Fremark, producer Natalie Jablonski, associate producer Raymond Tungakar, and reporter Parker Yesko.
This series was edited by Catherine Winter. The editor-in-chief of APM Reports is Chris Worthington. This episode was mixed by Corey Schreppel. Music for this series by Gary Meister. To see photos that accompany our series, you can go to our website, inthedarkpodcast.org. Photography for this series by Ben Depp.
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