Prison system's problems run far deeper than the health care scandal

The best argument for a wide-ranging investigation into Delaware's prisons came last week from the highest authority -- prisons chief Stan Taylor himself.

Don't worry. During an annual Department of Correction budget hearing, Taylor didn't deviate from the Cone of Silence Gov. Ruth Ann Minner has imposed in the wake of The News Journal's investigation into the health-care scandal in Delaware prisons. He asked for another $15 million, an increase of more than 7 percent from this year, not only for improvements in inmate health care but salary hikes for corrections officers and other urgent needs.

Less widely reported, but potentially more troubling, was Taylor's warning that Delaware again faces a need to expand its prison facilities. The inmate population is projected to grow by 115 inmates a year, he told officials from the state Office of Management and Budget, and there's no more room at the Locked Inn.

Delawareans can be excused if this news sounds both familiar and shocking. A decade-long, 2,500-bed prison expansion program -- with a price tag of $185 million -- ended just months ago, with the delayed opening of the New Castle Women's Work Release Center. Yet the system already accommodates about 100 more inmates than the 6,687 it's designed to hold.

The construction bills have ended, but the expansion-related spending hasn't. The bulk of Taylor's budget request will go to pay raises for corrections officers, but the system remains short-staffed by nearly 300 guards, about one-sixth the approved positions.

That's a major reason two areas at the Delaware Correctional Center near Smyrna -- a high-security unit and an infirmary that was renovated into cells -- remain closed. Those areas are being used to train new correctional officers, Taylor told the budget officials, but even if opened for prisoners, they wouldn't meet the demand for more bed space, he said.

And of course, if we build more prison units, we'll have to hire even more corrections officers to staff them.

Taylor didn't say this, but add up all the disconnected facts and it's plain to see that Delaware's criminal justice system simply isn't working.

We're shoveling out money to lock up Delawareans at one of the highest per-capita rates in the nation, but the streets of Wilmington -- the state's financial capital and largest city -- are as deadly as they've ever been.

While former inmates and relatives of prisoners finally are having their horror stories about poor health care heard, myriad other problems are simmering just below the surface. The shortage of guards has made warehousing of prisoners the rule rather than the exception, restricting the state's ability to maximize substance-abuse counseling and other rehabilitation programs that might cut down on recidivism.

Whether our tongue-tied governor or the coterie of fossils running the state Senate care to acknowledge it or not, all these problems are interrelated. In fact many of these same longtime legislators kicked off this vicious cycle years ago by passing a passel of get-tough-on-crime minimum-sentencing laws.

It would be nice if the General Assembly could clean up the mess it created, but that's asking a lot. Lawmakers frequently demonstrate that, no matter how complex the problem, they prefer a simple answer. In this case, there doesn't appear to be one.