Across Georgia, families are going broke just to keep their loved ones alive and connected behind bars. From elderly grandparents skipping meals to mothers living on disability, the human cost of Georgia’s prison economy runs far deeper than commissary prices or phone bills. These are the voices of those paying The Price of Staying Close.
For many families in Georgia, having a loved one behind bars doesn’t mean only missing birthdays and phone calls—it means chronic financial strain. A new national study finds that families who provide direct support to incarcerated relatives spend on average 6 % of their household income each month just to cover direct costs like commissary items, hygiene products and phone calls. 
When that national figure meets the realities inside Georgia’s prison system—sky-high commissary mark‐ups, inadequate meals that force reliance on overpriced snacks—the results are devastating.
Stewart Distribution supplies convenience stores across Georgia with chips, honey buns, and ramen. When products approach expiration, stores pull them from shelves. Where do those products go?
Back to Stewart’s warehouse in Blackshear—then straight to Georgia’s prisons at premium prices.
The result: Inmates pay $0.90 for ramen worth $0.20 wholesale, $4 for ibuprofen that costs $0.40 at Walmart, $5.60 for peanut butter worth $2.18. Prison families—already missing a wage earner—paid $47 million in 2024 for products worth $28 million, with the state pocketing $18.7 million in pure profit.
Then on November 1, 2025, Georgia raised prices another 30%.
Georgia doesn’t pay inmates a single cent for their labor, then charges them 300-1,000% markups on necessities. Commissioner Tyrone Oliver could reduce these prices today through administrative action. He chooses not to.
Georgia’s prison system is failing, driven by a parole board that perpetuates injustice through bias, lack of transparency, and arbitrary decisions. This broken system has fueled violence, overcrowding, and catastrophic deaths across the Georgia Department of Corrections, leaving inmates without hope and families in despair. This article explores the urgent need for reform, highlighting the transparency measures proposed in Senate Bill 25 and advocating for a bold new model that ties parole to rehabilitation and accountability. By fixing Georgia’s parole system, we can restore fairness, reduce recidivism, and create a pathway to justice for all.
Behind the towering walls of Washington State Prison lies a hidden world of chaos and corruption, where gang leaders wield unchecked power, contraband flows freely, and those entrusted with maintaining order blur the line between authority and complicity. The murder of Dontavis Carter on January 7 is not just a singular tragedy but a haunting reflection of a system in crisis—a system where violence thrives, silence is coerced, and justice lies abandoned, much like the cracked gavel in the shadows of this forgotten institution.
When Teresa Lester Sisson learned that her brother, Roy Mason Morris, had died, it wasn’t just the loss that devastated her—it was the revelation that he had been dead for 14 months, and no one had told her. His death, shrouded in mystery, exposes the systemic neglect, corruption, and dehumanization within Georgia’s prison system. As Teresa fights for answers, Roy’s story becomes a call to action: a demand for accountability, transparency, and justice for those who have been forgotten.
Imagine this: With just a few clicks, your concerns about the Georgia prison crisis are transformed into a professional, research-backed email that lands directly in the inbox of those with the power to enact change. Instead of feeling overwhelmed or unheard, you become part of a collective movement working toward real solutions.
