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The United States have been rocked by two major hurricanes this month, Helene and Milton. In both instances, as the skies darkened and flood waters rose, thousands of incarcerated people were either evacuated at the last possible minute鈥攐r were simply left behind. Organizations such as and have worked tirelessly to hold officials accountable, and stockpile supplies when needed, highlight voices from inside the walls, support loved ones, and uncover what鈥檚 really happening.

Each year, those who live near the Atlantic Ocean, particularly those near the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean, brace themselves for . As the water temperatures increase and mix with warm, humid air, tropical thunderstorms form and gather speed. Once a storm鈥檚 winds reach 74 miles per hour, the storm is officially classed as a hurricane鈥攁nd people on land begin paying much closer attention. Between June and the end of November, the looming threat of high-speed winds, heavy rainfall, and coastal flooding hangs in the air; those who live closest to the water make emergency plans, keep an eye on their vulnerable neighbors, coordinate mutual aid efforts, and hold onto hope that, this year, they鈥檒l be safe.

If a hurricane does make landfall, many in the area of impact will have the option to drive, fly, or run away from the danger and ensure their families are warm, dry, and far from danger. Some will choose to stay behind in spite of the risks, but thousands of others will be left with no choice at all. Prisons and jails are often when natural disasters hit. While people on the outside are given ample warning, the incarcerated are at the mercy of prison staff, government officials, and state politicians.

On Sept. 26, 2024, Hurricane Helene smashed into northwestern Florida and quickly made its way toward Tennessee, Georgia, and North Carolina. When it made landfall, its winds whipped the air at 140 miles per hour, causing massive flooding and destruction across all four states. Authorities were well aware Helene was on its way, with each state declaring a state of emergency ahead of the storm. 鈥淭here will be no place for you to go if things get bad,鈥� on Florida鈥檚 Gulf Coast warned. 鈥淭his is going to be a life-threatening surge. It is nothing to take lightly.鈥�

Yet, even as the hurricane barrelled down, people incarcerated in prisons and jails in multiple states were not allowed to evacuate. Instead, or, as was the case in Florida, to 鈥� built to withstand high winds.鈥� In other cases, they were simply . 

Less than two weeks later, Hurricane Milton hit Florida again, knocking out power for millions, throwing up , and causing widespread flooding. The lead-up to the storm was grim, and photos of fleeing residents stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic only added to the alarm. Tampa Mayor Jane Castor went on television to tell Floridians, 鈥淚f you choose to stay in one of those evacuation areas, you are going to die.鈥�

For the second time, though, thousands of the state鈥檚 incarcerated people鈥攊ncluding more than 鈥攚ere left with no option but to ride out the storm behind bars. The stated it had 鈥渟uccessfully relocated鈥� 5,950 people ahead of the storm鈥攐ut of 28,000 who lay in the hurricane鈥檚 path. As Jordan Martinez, an organizer with watchdog Fight Toxic Prisons, told , the number of evacuees only made up a small percentage of the individuals in harm鈥檚 way and some of the evacuations barely qualified as such.

The majority of those evacuated came from work camps, halfway houses, and work release centers, and in many instances they were 鈥渆vacuated鈥� to theoretically stronger facilities nearby. For example, women at Lowell Work Camp, a section of the Lowell Correctional Institution in Marion County, Florida, were evacuated just a few dozen yards away 鈥� to another part of the same prison complex.

鈥淭he fact that they are unable to evacuate people in mandatory evacuation zones goes to show the complete lack of prioritization of the lives of incarcerated people during hurricanes,鈥� Martinez said. 鈥淚f we are prioritizing the safety of our communities, those communities must include the incarcerated people inside that are themselves organizing on the inside to fight for better conditions, and quite often being forced during hurricanes to prepare to protect their communities via forced slave labor with sandbags or in cleanup in the aftermath.鈥�

As Martinez noted, the trouble does not end once the wind stops blowing, either. Hurricane damage can disrupt incarcerated peoples鈥� access to light, clean water, food, and medical supplies, leaving them cold, hungry, thirsty, or sick for days or weeks at a time. Power outages can cut them off from communicating with their loved ones and the rest of the world, which also hamstrings their ability to report unsanitary or dangerous conditions inside their facilities. It also leaves them unable to check in on their own communities, or to find out whether their own families are safe.

When Helene slammed into western North Carolina, prisoners in multiple facilities outside Asheville told about losing access to running water鈥攁nd having to relieve themselves in plastic bags. As one woman鈥檚 husband told her, 鈥淲e thought we were going to die there. We didn鈥檛 think anybody was going to come back for us.鈥�

Elsewhere, Jailhouse Lawyers Speak, a nationwide collective of incarcerated individuals who provide support and legal resources to other prisoners, were able to share as Milton tore through the state: 鈥淧ower鈥檚 out in here, and the COs are hiding in their offices while we鈥檙e left in the dark. We鈥檙e shouting for meds and updates, but no one鈥檚 listening. Just trying to hold on and hope this storm doesn鈥檛 swallow us whole鈥︹��

Another message illustrated the inhumane conditions inside as the storm raged, mirroring the hellish conditions stirred up by Helene: 鈥淭oilets backing up, feces running over. We鈥檝e been told we鈥檒l have to lay in it. No movement allowed.鈥�

While incarcerated people can be denied the most basic level of hygiene inside their dorms, they are also often the first to be drafted to clean up after a climate disaster. As reported, both and to clear roads and haul debris after Helene and Milton. During a press conference, cheerfully framed this forced labor as 鈥渦tilizing鈥� the state鈥檚 鈥渞esources.鈥� 鈥淭hey do prison labor anyways,鈥� he said. 鈥淭he good thing about that is you can use that on private property, not just on public.鈥� He also noted the cleanup 鈥渨ould cost us way more money if you had to do that through some of these private contractors.鈥�

Unsurprisingly, Florida and are two of seven states in which incarcerated workers are for nearly all prison jobs.

As the climate crisis worsens, incarcerated people and those who love them will continue to worry that every new weather emergency may mean a death sentence unless real, concrete action is taken and laws are put into place to ensure state and local county officials are prepared in advance to evacuate everyone who may be under threat, regardless of their address or legal status.

Amid this ever-growing threat, incarcerated people, their loved ones, and organizers are on the front lines, advocating for themselves and their co-prisoners. 鈥淲e urge the public to understand our plight as people in jails and prisons,鈥� a member of Jailhouse Lawyers Speak told . 鈥淲e suffer during natural disasters and lock our dark cells, not knowing if we will survive or not.鈥�

Publications such as , , and are also closely following the impact of the climate crisis on prisoners and amplifying the stories of incarcerated individuals who have been subjected to dire conditions or left behind during catastrophes. Every letter, every social media post, and every phone call counts. The louder the public outcry about this cruel practice becomes, the less likely officials will give a repeat performance the next time a deadly storm starts brewing.

鈥淭his is not just a logistical failure, it鈥檚 a profound moral failing,鈥� the member of Jailhouse Lawyers Speak emphasized. 鈥淲hile entire towns are evacuated and communities band together to seek safety, we remain locked within these walls, treated as less than human. It is heartbreaking to think that while the world preps for survival during a pending natural disaster such as Hurricane Milton, we are still treated as if we don鈥檛 matter, as if our lives can be tossed aside in the name of protocol. We must end this normalized routine. We beg the public to pay attention and have a heart of compassion.鈥�