This story was first published by AfroLA, nonprofit solutions journalism for Los Angeles told through the lens of the Black community. To also reproduce or republish this article, please contact AfroLA.
by Audy McAfee, AfroLA
Cal Fire is the largest firefighting force in the nation, with 12,000 permanent and seasonal personnel who protect more than 31 million acres of wildland. There are also 36 fire camps in California, with 1,200 incarcerated fire crew members that fight fires alongside Cal Fire, including the slew of L.A. wildfires in January. Although they do the same work, incarcerated firefighters don’t receive the same level of training before they are dispatched to fires and other emergencies that require fire support, like car crashes.
They don’t earn nearly the same wages. (California voters didn’t support a 2024 ballot proposition that would amend the state constitution to outlaw the use of forced labor for punishment of a crime.) Yet, incarcerated firefighters have limited or no access to mental health support services even though they face the same traumatic experiences as civilian firefighters.
Alissa More is the in-custody coordinator for All of Us or None (AOUON) and the reentry coordinator for Legal Services for Prisoners with Children (LSPC), a grassroots organization that fights for previously and currently incarcerated people’s civil rights. Moore was in prison for 25 years, incarcerated at 17, for murder. She said many incarcerated people do not understand the difficulties they will face being part of a fire camp crew.
“These individuals have never faced a 20-foot wall of fire,” said Moore, “and, you know, it scares them.”
Same trauma, different treatment
The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation’s (CDCR) Conservation Fire Camp Program was established in 1915. It is meant to support governmental agencies on all levels responding to fires, floods and other natural disasters. That is still the case today, but more than ever before, incarcerated firefighters are filling in the gaps, in part caused by cuts to fire department budgets.
Historically, incarcerated firefighters have made up 30% of California fire crews each year, but with the increase in wildfires in recent years, that number is going up. As incarcerated firefighters are being used as a workforce they are not being treated equitably.
A formerly incarcerated firefighter, Edmond Richardson, served 14 years for armed robbery. He was released in December and believes the amount of work his crew did for little to no pay is unethical. We were the ones who had to stay behind and clean up the debris while civilian firefighters went home, he recounted.
“I don’t like my body being used for everyone else’s mess when we were the ones getting paid less to do the same things as everyone else,” said Richardson.
L.A. County firefighters’ base salary is roughly $85,000 per year. But according to CDCR, an incarcerated person can earn up to $10.24 per day on a fire crew, depending on their skill level. They receive an extra dollar from Cal Fire when assigned to an active emergency. If an incarcerated fire camp member worked 365 days without working any active emergencies they would make up to $3,738 annually.
Formerly incarcerated firefighter, Royal Ramey told AfroLA that many formerly incarcerated individuals can’t get firefighting jobs post-release. Ramey’s Forestry and Fire Recruitment Program or FFRP helps people in this position find stable work if they are still interested in careers in the Wildland and Forestry sector upon release. Even though they have the same experience and face the same trauma as civilian firefighters, a felony record disqualifies them from fire department jobs. (Most fire camp members are convicted of nonviolent felonies, like gun or drug charges. Those charged with more serious charges are ineligible.)
Jose Robles, now a realtor in Texas, was incarcerated from 2006 to 2008 for a drug charge. He worked as a fire camp firefighter for more than a year. He said pay and a possible reduction in time, among other things, were big incentives to join fire camp.
But they were just added perks, explained Robles.
“Beyond that, I’m able to give back to my community, my society, by being a firefighter. That was a form of redemption.”
Stigma and fear asking for help
Civilian firefighters have ready access to suicide and crisis hotlines and other mental health resources. But often, incarcerated firefighters have nowhere to turn.
Jeff Dill is the founder and CEO of the Firefighter Behavioral Health Alliance. His nonprofit organization provides behavioral health support services to firefighters, struggling with thoughts of suicide or self-injury, and post-traumatic stress disorder.
According to the California State Firefighters Association, the suicide rates among firefighters is 18 per 100,000 people versus the general population, 13 per 100,000.
Firefighters’ suicide rates aren’t accurately reported, explained Dill.
“The family doesn’t want anyone to know that their loved one took their life, because unfortunately, people judge why people take their lives,” said Dill. “So we lose a lot of that [data], especially on the volunteer and the EMS side.”
Dill said many firefighters come from generations of family on the job which makes them scared to be vulnerable with the mental health issues they may be facing. This perpetuates a cycle of silence that reinforces around the idea of being “tough” or “manning up.”
“How can I show any weakness if my great great-grandfather never showed any weakness?” said Dill. “These are the things that we need to express, that your strongest moments is when you ask for help.”
Amika Motah is executive director of Sister Warriors, an organization that advocates for incarcerated women and transgender people. She said incarcerated firefighters can be removed from fire camp if they request mental health services.
“In order to receive therapy inside of prison, you have to be considered a triple CMS which is basically acknowledging that you have a mental health issue,” said Motah. “And you could not be accepted to a fire program if you were triple CMS.”
About 30,000 of the 97,000 people incarcerated in the U.S. are considered a triple CMS, shorthand for the Correctional Clinical Case Management System. This is the first level of three for outpatient care, according to CDCR. Moore said even though triple CMS is the lowest level, it requires dire circumstances for an individual to be considered.
“They [CDCR] are not going to get you into triple CMS unless you specifically state that you are going to harm yourself or others,” said Moore. “A lot of people say they’re gonna harm themselves just to get the treatment.”
If a fire camp member goes through a traumatic experience they cannot just say they feel depressed. This makes access to proper mental care without losing their position virtually impossible, according to Moore. If a person does qualify for the triple CMS, they get to see a social worker every other week, a psychiatrist monthly, and a clinical psychologist if available, said Moore.
The difficulty of receiving mental health support deters many incarcerated people from seeking the help they need. Firefighting in prison is the highest paying job and for a lot of incarcerated people, the most rewarding. According to CDCR, there is a Mental Health Program “to ensure patients have ready access to mental health services based on their need.”
CDCR remains “committed to prioritizing the mental health and safety of its incarcerated firefighters while providing them with meaningful opportunities for rehabilitation,” said CDCR spokesperson Todd Javernick in an email response. Additionally, CDCR staff are trained to recognize signs of mental health issues and incarcerated firefighters are monitored 24/7 to ensure their well being.
John Cannon, an outreach coordinator for LSPC, was charged as an adult for robbery at 16. He was a fire camp firefighter from 2011 to 2014. He told AfroLA that CDCR’s response isn’t true.
“ Maybe they’re trained if it’s some type of danger toward them,” said Cannon, “but not to recognize mental health or to actually assist in helping a person dealing with it.”
Cannon said he was often sent from his facility in Nevada to fight fires in California for multiple weeks. Not once, he said, did someone check in on his mental health and wellbeing.
Distressing events experienced as a first responder can lead to mental health issues such as PTSD, which can develop after witnessing or experiencing a traumatic event.
Moore from LSPC describes trauma directly related to incarceration, Post-Incarceration Syndrome. She said she’s seen mental health declines in incarcerated firefighters who work out of fear.
“You could be scared to lose your visits, to get a write up, to be taken out of fire camp,” said Moore, “so you are lost in a cycle trying to find your voice as when children experience severe PTSD.”
Rates of PTSD and depression are five times higher than that of the civilian population, according to the Ruderman Family Foundation’s report on mental health and suicide of first responders.
Motah said one of the most traumatic moments she experienced as a fire crew member was helping pull the three bodies of a family involved in a fatal crash.
“There were old school firefighters that had been on the force for 25 years that were throwing up on the side of the road during that call,” said Motah. “It was so intense, the condition of the family was awful.”
CDCR emphasizes that their incarcerated firefighters are a priority, but it remains unclear if they are receiving the mental health services needed to thrive in the camps.
Despite the mental hardships that come with being an incarcerated firefighter, many feel that the work was more meaningful than any other job they could have done in prison. Fire camp is also a way to cope with the reality of their crimes and being away from loved ones. Firefighting allows them not only to give back to their communities but to themselves.
“It reminded a lot of us about purpose, value, feeling worthy again,” said Motah, “and being part of the world we’ve been kicked out of.”
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