Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
Across Georgia, families of incarcerated people are quietly carrying a financial burden that few policymakers, legislators, or agency officials ever acknowledge. On Facebook pages like Ga. Prisons Exposed, ordinary people describe extraordinary sacrifices—working extra shifts, skipping their own bills, rationing groceries, and going into debt just to keep their loved ones fed, clean, and connected inside the Georgia Department of Corrections.
These testimonies reveal a truth long hidden behind budget reports and official statements: Georgia’s prison system does not merely confine the people inside it. It extracts wealth from the families outside it.
Previous GPS investigations have exposed how commissary markups reach 400–900 percent, how prisoners earn $0 per hour, and how both GDC leadership and private vendors profit from scarcity. But the comments shared publicly by struggling families show something deeper—an entirely separate economy built on desperation, where the poorest households in Georgia are subsidizing a multibillion-dollar state agency.
Families Paying More Than They Can Earn
The budgets families describe are staggering:
- $150 per week on commissary
- $380 a month on commissary, $120 on phone time, $400 on visitation
- $25 a week for phone, $25 a week for store
- $320 a month on commissary, $180–$250 on phone calls, $700–$1000 per visit
- $40–$50 a week on an $11-an-hour income
- $200 every two weeks from two siblings
- $200 biweekly plus $100 in gas and $50 in vending machine costs per visit
One woman shared, “I only make $11 an hour, but I’m considering upping his commissary to $50 a week.” Another wrote, “My brother and I put $200 each every two weeks.”
These are not outliers—they are the norm across Georgia’s prison system. The pattern matches findings from previous GPS reporting, including Georgia’s Prison Commissary Extortion, which documented the deliberate inflation of essential goods and the financial pressures forced onto families.
A System Designed to Extract, Not Provide
The frustration voiced by families is clear and consistent. One commenter asked:
“Taxpayers already pay for the prisons, the lights, the staff—so why are families paying more than Walmart or Kroger?”
Another added:
“Prices went up again with no explanation. Just greed.”
And a third summarized the entire system in one sentence:
“Nobody in power cares—they’re banking like hell off this system.”
This aligns with earlier GPS investigations such as The Truth About Cellphones in Georgia’s Prisons and Georgia’s Cell Phone Crackdown: Security or Silence?, which reveal how communication restrictions, inflated prices, and contract-driven policies consistently shift costs onto families.
Georgia’s prison system does not simply fail to provide adequate food, hygiene, safety, or medical care. Instead, it relies on families to fill those gaps—and then profits from the process.
The Emotional Toll Behind the Dollar Amounts
The financial burden is only half the story. The emotional strain is equally devastating.
One mother wrote:
“When my LO calls, he only talks for 2–3 minutes unless it’s important.”
A formerly incarcerated man shared:
“I got $25 a week for store and $25 a week for phone. That was everything.”
A recovering addict trying to support her partner explained:
“If he’s high, I say no. I only make $11 an hour, but I try to keep him going.”
And others expressed grief for people who have no support at all:
“They have absolutely no one. They’re often in my prayers.”
The emotional weight behind these comments reflects a broader reality chronicled in GPS investigations like In and Out and Left for Dead: The Tragic Story of Jamie Shahan. When the state fails to provide humane conditions, families become the only safety net—and that safety net is stretched to the breaking point.
When Families Can’t Pay, Survival Turns Dangerous
One of the most chilling exchanges came from a simple question:
“So if the family has no money to send, the prisoner has nothing?”
A responder answered:
“Absolutely nothing unless they can hustle or rob.”
Another commented:
“People fade away. Not everyone has someone. There are always ways to make a few soups, but it’s a struggle.”
Inside Georgia prisons, “hustling” is often a euphemism for participating in gang economies, taking on debt enforced by violence, or trading protection for basic necessities.
In earlier GPS reporting—including Violence and Corruption Unleashed: The Truth About Washington SP—incarcerated whistleblowers described how commissary scarcity fuels the underground economy, strengthens gang control, and increases the risk of extortion and assault.
When the state refuses to meet basic needs, desperation fills the void.
A Silent Crisis Happening in Plain Sight
Many commenters believed they were alone in this struggle. But together, their stories expose a system built on financial codependence:
- Parents ration groceries so their son can call home
- Siblings split bills to keep a brother safe
- Partners work overtime just to send $40 a week
- Children see their families sacrifice everything to keep someone they love alive
These burdens disproportionately fall on single mothers, low-income workers, and Black families—communities already overpoliced and under-resourced. As GPS reported in The Poverty-to-Prison Pipeline and the follow-up series on poverty behind bars, Georgia criminalizes poverty at every stage—from arrest, to sentencing, to incarceration, to release.
Prison doesn’t only extract time from incarcerated people.
It extracts wealth from the people who love them.
Georgia Must Stop Treating Families as Revenue Streams
The Georgia Department of Corrections continues to insist that incarcerated people have access to “three meals a day” and “basic necessities.” But the testimonies of families tell a different story.
The reality is undeniable:
- Families act as the state’s second budget.
- Commissary is essential for survival, not comfort.
- Phone calls are the only mental-health support most people receive.
- Prices rise without oversight or explanation.
- Those with no family support suffer most.
- The financial cost reinforces generational poverty long after release.
This is not a system built on rehabilitation or public safety. It is a system built on extraction. And the people paying the highest price are the ones with the least ability to absorb it.
Call to Action: What You Can Do
Awareness without action changes nothing. Here are the most effective ways you can help push for accountability and real reform:
Contact Your Representatives
Your state legislators control GDC’s budget, oversight, and the laws that created these failures. Demand accountability and transparency.
- Find your Georgia legislators: https://openstates.org/findyourlegislator
- Governor Brian Kemp: (404) 656-1776
- Georgia Department of Corrections Commissioner: (478) 992-5246
Demand Media Coverage
Journalists need to know these stories matter. Contact newsrooms at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, local TV stations, and national outlets covering criminal justice. More coverage means more pressure for reform.
Use Impact Justice AI
Our free tool at https://impactjustice.ai helps you instantly draft and send personalized emails to lawmakers, journalists, and agencies. No expertise required—just your voice and your concern.
Amplify on Social Media
Share this article and call out the people in power.
Tag: @GovKemp, @GDC_Georgia, your local representatives
Use hashtags such as #GAPrisons, #PrisonReform, #GeorgiaPrisonerSpeak
Public pressure works—especially when it’s loud.
File Public Records Requests
Georgia’s Open Records Act gives every citizen the right to access government documents. Request:
- Incident reports
- Death records
- Staffing data
- Medical logs
- Financial and contract documents
Transparency reveals truth.
Attend Public Meetings
The Georgia Board of Corrections holds public meetings. Legislative committees review corrections issues during session. Your presence is noticed.
Contact the Department of Justice
For civil rights violations in Georgia prisons, file a complaint with the DOJ Civil Rights Division:
https://civilrights.justice.gov
Federal oversight has forced abusive systems to change before.
Support Organizations Doing This Work
Donate to or volunteer with Georgia-based prison reform groups fighting for change on the ground.
Vote
Research candidates’ positions on criminal justice. Primary elections often determine outcomes in Georgia. Your vote shapes who controls these systems.
Contact GPS
Georgia Prisoners’ Speak exists because incarcerated people and their families deserve to be heard. If you have information about conditions inside Georgia’s prisons, contact us securely at GPS.press.
About Georgia Prisoners’ Speak (GPS)
Georgia Prisoners’ Speak (GPS) is a nonprofit investigative newsroom built in partnership with incarcerated reporters, families, advocates, and data analysts. Operating independently from the Georgia Department of Corrections, GPS documents the truth the state refuses to acknowledge: extreme violence, fatal medical neglect, gang-controlled dorms, collapsed staffing, fraudulent reporting practices, and unconstitutional conditions across Georgia’s prisons.
Through confidential reporting channels, secure communication, evidence verification, public-records requests, legislative research, and professional investigative standards, GPS provides the transparency the system lacks. Our mission is to expose abuses, protect incarcerated people, support families, and push Georgia toward meaningful reform based on human rights, evidence, and public accountability.
Every article is part of a larger fight — to end the silence, reveal the truth, and demand justice.
Further Reading
- Georgia’s Prison Commissary Extortion An in-depth investigation into the 400–900% markups driving financial desperation behind bars.
- The Poverty-to-Prison Pipeline: How Georgia Criminalizes Being Poor How poverty increases the risk of incarceration and fuels Georgia’s punitive justice system.
- The Truth About Cellphones in Georgia’s Prisons Why GDC’s communication restrictions endanger lives and silence incarcerated people.
- In and Out A deep look into Georgia’s cycle of neglect and its deadly consequences for vulnerable prisoners.
- Left for Dead: The Tragic Story of Jamie Shahan How systemic medical neglect and indifferent staff cost a young man his life.