At 69, after serving 45 years in Georgia prisons, he lives with prostate cancer, constant violence, and seven parole denials. In a cell with over 100 combined years of incarceration, he and two other elderly men face the daily reality of aging behind bars with no end in sight.
Two federal judges. The U.S. Department of Justice. State legislators. A U.S. Senator. The press. Georgia’s Department of Corrections has stonewalled, obstructed, deceived, or defied every institution meant to hold it accountable — and paid no price. GPS traces the documented pattern.
GPS investigates Pulaski State Prison under Warden Wendy Jackson, tracing how an untested leader inherited a facility scarred by decades of lethal medical neglect, gang violence, sexual assault, and federal findings of unconstitutional conditions — and what families are reporting now.
Sentenced to life in 1996, this narrator has witnessed Georgia’s prison system transform from a structured, program-rich environment to a dangerous, gang-dominated warehouse. Through budget cuts, short-staffing, and mass punishment policies, he explains why the system has become more violent—and why it’s not lifers causing the problems.
Covered in ants in a dark lockdown cell with no water, I screamed for help. Officers laughed and left me to suffer for two weeks. This was my punishment for refusing gang-controlled housing in a Georgia prison—a choice that led to 18 months of isolation that broke my spirit.
Over 2,400 years ago, Plato described prisoners chained in a cave, mistaking shadows for reality. His allegory speaks directly to the experience of incarceration — and reveals why education is the most powerful path to transformation, both for individuals behind bars and for society as a whole.
Eligible for parole after seven years on a life sentence, he thought the system worked simply: serve your time, show you’ve changed, go home. Forty-one years later, he’s still waiting. This is his account of navigating Georgia’s parole system—a cycle of denials, broken promises, and punishments that feel like re-sentencing.
After a suicide attempt and arrest in the early 2000s, I entered Georgia’s prison system carrying self-hatred and confusion. Four years in solitary confinement became the turning point where I found faith, sobriety, and purpose—transforming isolation into a space for growth, creativity, and reconciliation.
When Marcus broke his hand at Georgia State Prison, he filed sick call requests immediately. Three weeks and seven requests later, he finally saw a doctor—but by then, the bones had already set wrong. Now 34 years old with a permanently damaged hand, Marcus shares his story of medical neglect and the solidarity that keeps incarcerated people human in a system that treats them otherwise.
Christian Krauch was tortured for three weeks at Macon State Prison in June 2024 — bound, stabbed, burned, and left under a bunk while GDC submitted 168 phantom inmate counts. He lost his right hand and leg to amputation. The state said nothing. No arrests were made.