Dwayne “Bim” Staats is currently incarcerated at the Delaware supermax facility James T. Vaughn Correctional Center. Staats has served 22 years of a life sentence, and has spent 17 years in solitary confinement in prisons across Pennsylvania and Delaware. 

In the following piece, Staats recounts a situation in which he and other men were trapped in an isolation unit with no ventilation, and with the air vents spewing noxious gas. While Staats’s attempts to find out the cause of the gas hit dead ends, the symptoms he describes the men experiencing notably mirror those of carbon monoxide poisoning, a medical emergency so potentially deadly that most states require carbon monoxide detectors in homes and buildings. The environmental and medical hazards commonly found in prisons and jails are well-documented, supported by the work of researchers, grassroots organizers, and other incarcerated writers. 

Staats is on Instagram @_bim_21 and YouTube. He can be emailed on GettingOut by adding him as a contact using his name “Dwayne Staats” and number “467005,” or reached by mail at “Dwayne Staats 467005 Delaware DOC – 1101, PO Box 96777, Las Vegas, NV 89193.” —Kilhah St. Fort

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Everyday I wake up in this cell, I know it’s a real possibility that a prisoner will be denied their meal or shower as a form of punishment, will get injured by some form of excessive force, will be sexually abused while strip searched, will be assaulted while in restraints, will be exposed to mold, will be sent to the hole because a guard fabricated a misconduct report, will be given the wrong medication, or will experience some other form of medical neglect. On a deeper level, regarding restrictive housing units, any one of our minds can deteriorate to the point we lose touch with reality, and there’s a chance that someone could lose all hope, faith, and belief in themselves and/or higher power and commit suicide. 

Sadly, these are scenarios that I’ve become accustomed to taking place in this environment. How can they not, when all the studies, research, and data point to those results as consequences of solitary confinement? Prison, as a practice and experiment, creates tragedies due to the lack of oversight, safeguards, and compassion for humanity. This recent situation I’m about to share can be added to the list.

On April 16, 2026, at approximately 8:30 p.m., I was escorted from the shower and placed in a cell. It seemed like as soon as the correctional officers (COs) left the pod, what appeared to be smoke and an unknown fume started seeping through the vent. As the seriousness of the situation became apparent, I began hearing other prisoners yell out for reassurance, asking whether the toxic hazard was affecting others’ cells as well. Since there’s no safety measure in place for such emergencies, the only way we could get the guards’ attention was by kicking the doors. 

The COs didn’t come back on the pod until 9:30 p.m. By then many of us were experiencing lightheadedness, shortness of breath, chest pains, headaches, and nausea. It got so bad for me that I ended up vomiting in the toilet. The smoke eventually dissipated, but the unknown fume was still circulating. Those of us complaining about needing medical care were taken to the nurse station around 10:30 p.m. Instead of checking our pupils, doing a neurological test, and taking other precautionary measures, all he did was check our blood pressure. Then we were ushered back to the cells. 

During that brief encounter, I found out that every vent in the building was disseminating toxic gas. One of the COs said they had previously received notification that maintenance would be working on the ventilation system, and to expect smoke and a smell. None of them felt the need to warn us.

The fumes continued to linger until 12:00 a.m. I filed a grievance to have the matter investigated. In it, I asked: “What was the cause of the smoke and fumes coming in the cell?”; “What was the name of the procedure, tools, and chemicals maintenance used for whatever they was doing?”; “Why weren’t we (prisoners) warned that smoke and fumes would be coming through the vent but the building staff was?”; and “Why weren’t we (prisoners) moved off the tier, before maintenance started a procedure they knew created a safety hazard?”

I have no confidence in the grievance system, so filing one is more about making a paper trail than anything. For starters, the grievance coordinator is a correction officer, and they’re the only person who assesses our complaints to determine if they will get processed. It’s not realistic to think they can be impartial regarding issues concerning their coworkers or administration. That said, it came as no surprise that my grievance was immediately rejected with no explanation provided in answer to my questions. Honestly, I’m glad they didn’t prolong the process. My remedies are exhausted, so now I’m able to pursue civil action. Since the incident, I find myself wondering about the long-term effects of inhaling toxic fumes for that length of time. My mind also shifts to the fact that there’s nothing in the cell to bust out the back window. 

Overall, this experience reinforces the notion that solitary confinement is a physical, mental, and spiritual death trap! Power is the People!