As the effects of climate change become increasingly evident, the role of inmate firefighters in California is becoming ever more crucial. This has led to questions about the type of low-level offenders who qualify for the program, and whether they should be incarcerated at all.
Demetrius Barr was one such inmate, a former crack dealer who was sent to Holton Conservation Camp at the beginning of November last year. As the van carrying him turned off Little Tujunga Canyon Road, he was struck by the contrast between the sterile grays of the jail and the mellow greens of the sage and laurel, and the toasty browns of the dead brush and desert dust.
The smell of pine needles and the brisk mountain air filled Barr with a sense of optimism as he stepped out of the van. He knew that Holton offered him privileges that he could only have dreamed of back in jail, where he had been sleeping below a man who didn’t shower and seemed mentally ill. His new life as a wildland firefighter was about to begin.
Barr was escorted past a beach volleyball court, hand-painted wooden signs, and a hill with white-painted rocks arranged to spell “HOME OF THE WOLF PACK.” Here he found a cot to himself, and the opportunity to be treated as a human.
“It’s a little bit – not freedom, but you can move a little bit,” he commented a few weeks later.
In order to remain in this summer camp-style prison and receive good-time credits that would reduce his seven-year sentence to 35%, he had to stay in shape, remain well-behaved, and summon the courage to do hard labor in thousand-degree flames. He had already endured months of training at Pitchess Detention Center, with guards checking his body for stolen tools every night as he returned to the dorms. Would he find the strength to face the heat of a real fire?
Over 4,400 prisoners are fighting wildland fires on the ground for the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection (Cal Fire), housed at 42 inmate fire camps, including three for women. Capt. Jorge Santana, the California Department of Corrections & Rehabilitation (CDCR) liaison who supervises the camps, estimates that this saves the state over $1 billion a year. This year, California has experienced over 5,300 wildfires, which is significantly higher than the five-year average. As the West endures one of the driest, hottest years in recorded history, the work of inmate firefighters has become essential to the state’s financial and environmental health.
Recently, a prisoner named Barr was directed into a closet marked Evidence Room. A guard handed him a black sign and took his photograph from behind a beige console housing an ancient PC. Barr was 6 feet 2 inches tall with a big, soft face and an overgrown goatee. The guard asked Barr for his CDC number, date of birth, details of his previous incarcerations, and when he was due to be released.
As long as he didn’t mess this thing up, didn’t get “rolled up,” as inmate firefighters call getting sent back to a walled institution, he’d be released in a little over a year, on Nov. 30, 2014. And he didn’t want to go back to drug dealing when he did. “I’m getting close to 40. I don’t have another one in me,” he explained. It was his second conviction, and a third conviction for sales in California would put him away for life. “Evidently, it’s not working, so I have to try something else.”
At the fire camp, the questions continued: “While incarcerated have you ever been involved in a sexually related assault? Do you have any gang affiliation? Any other moniker besides your name? Any mental health concerns?”
Barr gave the answers they wanted, and the man gave him his new identity on a small plastic card. He understood why they had to ask, even if almost no one told the truth. He knew this place was too dangerous for gangs. Turn against one another, lose trust in your crewmates, and you might not survive the next fire.
As climate changes and wildfires become more common, the role of Cal Fire becomes more crucial. However, the cheap labor supply of prison inmates is being threatened as the first trickle of a national movement toward prison reform arrives in California.
Only well-behaved inmates with no history of violence, arson, or sex crimes are accepted into fire camps like Holton, so most prisoner firefighters are serving time for low-level offenses, especially drug sales.
With a majority of Americans now questioning whether it is humane or economically sound to keep nonviolent drug offenders locked up for extended periods, the exact population of trustworthy inmates devoting their incarceration to wildfire protection is starting to find its way back onto the streets much sooner.
If we can trust guys like Barr on the front lines of a fire with a chainsaw or an axe, should they really be locked up for so long in the first place?
At a time when a program like this has never been more necessary, its future has never been more in question.
