Chief Justice Peterson asked the legislature to fix Georgia’s broken IAC process. Bill A, Part III of the Georgia Post-Conviction Justice Act does exactly that — at zero cost. This brief explains the problem, the reform, and the political case.
Two existing Georgia statutes — one from 1863, the other containing the most powerful safety-valve language in Georgia law — could unlock post-conviction justice if anyone would enforce them. Article 1 of the “No Way Out” series.
Georgia holds nearly 13,000 people over 50 in its prisons — the most expensive to incarcerate and the least likely to reoffend. Every dollar spent warehousing aging prisoners is stolen from rehabilitation, education, and the community investments that actually prevent crime.
At 19, I received 17 years for armed robbery—the take was $140, split two ways. Seventy dollars cost me my twenties and thirties. Between 1992 and 2009, I survived four Georgia prisons, learning hard lessons about violence, exploitation, and what it takes to hold onto hope when the system tells you you’ll die inside.
Georgia has identified 315 gangs and 15,200 gang-affiliated prisoners — 31% of its population — yet has no separation strategy, no exit program, and no management plan. Texas, Arizona, and California solved this problem decades ago. Georgia chose to do nothing. The death toll proves it.
An estimated 2,500-5,000 innocent people sit in Georgia’s prisons with every avenue of relief locked shut. GPS investigation connects three systemic failures — the habeas corpus deadline, absent conviction integrity units, and ignored Supreme Court precedent — and calls on the General Assembly to act before Crossover Day.
Georgia’s Chief Justice admits the post-conviction system is “broken.” But the IAC trap is just one lock on the door. Combined with the unconstitutional 4-year habeas deadline, no right to counsel, and restricted legal access, Georgia has built a machine that keeps thousands — including an estimated 2,600 to 5,275 innocent people — locked inside its deadliest prisons.
Georgia is building the first centralized prison surveillance command center in American corrections — the OWL Unit — integrating cameras, drones, body cams, health records, and cell phone interdiction into one hub. The $150M+ system has no public oversight, no privacy analysis, and no equivalent in any other state. GPS investigates.
A 67-year-old nursing assistant at Augusta State Medical Prison was arrested after allegedly striking a disabled inmate who weighs just 103 pounds. The arrest raises questions about the treatment of medically vulnerable inmates at the facility.
After two years in solitary confinement at county jail, I arrived at Georgia Diagnostic and Classification State Prison expecting the worst. What I found was beyond imagination—violence, medical neglect, and conditions that would be illegal for shelter animals.