Missouri wants to take money prisoner got after his mom’s death to pay for his incarceration

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When Daniel Wallace’s mom died in a car crash last May in Sedalia, he was devastated.

They were close — they talked almost daily, and she made the drive a couple times a year to the prison in eastern Missouri where he is incarcerated. She also added money to his account every week so he could buy phone calls and toiletries from the commissary.

She was “the one person that mattered to me,” he said.

When Wallace received about $12,500 from an insurance payout after her death, he thought it would help him get on his feet once he is released. He planned to use it to get a place to stay and a car while he found a job, which can take longer and be more difficult for someone with a criminal record.

But he may not have that safety net after all. That’s because the Missouri Attorney General’s Office filed a petition to take up to 90% of the money from him.

A little known Missouri law allows the state to confiscate money from prisoners to pay for the costs of their incarceration. It’s called “incarceration reimbursement.”

Criminal justice advocates have criticized the practice, sometimes referred to as “pay-to-stay,” saying it can negatively impact reentry, is unfair because defendants do not get an attorney and is an ineffective way to finance the prison system.

Maria Rafael, senior research associate with Vera Institute of Justice, a national nonprofit advocating for criminal justice reform, said it “shifts the burden of incarceration costs from the state, which should really hold the responsibility of funding the cost for incarceration, instead onto people who are already paying their debt to society through their confinement.”

While losing that kind of money can be disastrous for someone like Wallace, it doesn’t make much of a dent in the correction department’s budget. Even so, Attorney General Andrew Bailey’s office appears to be filing more incarceration reimbursement cases compared to recent years, according to an analysis by The Star. And a review of cases shows the law seems to be applied inconsistently.

“Our office enforces the statute passed by the General Assembly intended to place the burden of the cost of incarceration on the convicted felon, not the Missouri taxpayer,” said Madeline Sieren, a spokeswoman for Bailey’s office.

‘A big scam’

While organizations have contested “pay-to-stay” policies in Missouri jails and in some cases, won, not as much attention has been put on prison reimbursements, which can become burdensome because the length of stay is typically much longer.

Research from the Captive Money Lab, which studies prison incarceration reimbursement policies across the U.S., shows that charges for one prisoner can add up to tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars.

“These statutes are incredibly behind in terms of what it means to have a just society,” said Brittany Friedman, co-founder of the lab and a professor at the University of Southern California.

Researchers also say that the practice of incarceration reimbursement is unfair because defendants like Wallace do not have a right to an attorney. That’s because garnishing assets is a civil process, not a criminal one.

Wallace said his money is frozen, which “takes all your options away to try to fight it.”

The 35-year-old admits he has made mistakes for much of his life. He was charged in 2020 with assault and is serving a 12-year sentence.

But now he fears he’ll wind up homeless once he’s freed because of a policy he calls a “big scam.”

Is it worse in Missouri?

Most states have some form of a “pay-to-stay” policy on the books, according to Friedman. One thing they have in common, she said, is that prisoners’ accounts are surveilled, which she called “incredibly predatory.”

But the extent to which states garnish money and for what reasons varies widely.

In Kansas, incarcerated people who work a private industry job or are on work release pay 25% of their wages toward room and board, said Kansas Department of Corrections spokesman David Thompson. About 17% of Kansas’ prisoners fall into that category.

Missouri’s law has been in effect since 1988. It has allowed the state to garnish assets, even going after money prisoners won in settlements after suing the Department of Corrections for mistreatment, including sexual assault.

According to a check of state court records, the Missouri Attorney General’s Office has filed 143 incarceration reimbursement cases since 2014.

The amounts varied widely, from $1,000 to $934,785. The median amount was $13,779.

Judges have ordered about $2.5 million be handed over to the state since 2014, averaging out to about $253,900 a year.

That is a minuscule portion — 0.0002% — of the Missouri Department of Corrections’ annual budget, which was more than $947 million for this fiscal year, which ends June 30.

The number of overall cases has been increasing in recent years, according to the data The Star reviewed.

In 2015, just four incarceration reimbursement cases were filed, and the state was awarded a total of $7,500.

Last year, Bailey’s office filed 21 cases.

It costs more than $30,000 per year to incarcerate someone in Missouri.

Friedman from USC said she has yet to find a state that has recouped enough money to account for the government’s time and costs it takes to go after reimbursements.

Some states have abandoned or rolled back the practice. Illinois repealed their prison “pay-to-stay” law in 2019. Other states like Connecticut have passed partial repeals.

Picking who pays

Attorneys general have wide discretion in terms of who they pursue for incarceration reimbursement.

And in Missouri, the law does not seem to be enforced consistently.

For instance, Missouri filed a case against Marcell Horn, but not against Britt Reid.

Horn took medication to help treat serious mental health problems. But it had a side effect — it made his body grow breasts. The 30-year-old said he was harassed and went through “stress and pain.” He was awarded about $55,700 in a claim against the drug maker.

But the attorney general’s office filed a petition for reimbursement in October, and a judge awarded the state $49,000 in January.

Horn said he was never brought to court during the case’s proceedings. Docket entries in his case state, “Respondent appears not due to incarceration.”

He had wanted to use the money to help support his six kids and pay for a family member’s funeral.

“It’s a lot of stress, like emotional distress on me,” Horn said during a call from Moberly Correctional Center.

Now, he said, it’s difficult to afford basic items like soap and deodorant.

“They need to be held accountable for this because I don’t think it’s right that they’re doing people like this,” Horn said.

Meanwhile, a court records search did not find evidence that reimbursement cases had been filed against high-profile prisoners like Reid. Filings in Reid’s divorce case indicate the former Chiefs assistant coach made $488,000 in 2020, $114,000 in 2021 and $55,000 in 2022, the year he was sent to prison for driving drunk and crashing into a 5-year-old girl, severely injuring her.

In a controversial decision, Gov. Mike Parson commuted Reid’s three-year prison sentence to house arrest on March 1.

Lori Curry, founder of the organization Missouri Prison Reform, described incarceration reimbursement as “a punishment and not one across the board.”

Karen Pojmann, a spokeswoman for the Missouri Department of Corrections, said the department’s Offender Financial Services team provides oversight of prisoners’ accounts, but the Attorney General’s Office decides who to file cases against.

“The Attorney General’s Office independently decides whether and when to pursue reimbursement for the cost of incarceration; the Department of Corrections doesn’t make that determination,” Pojmann said in an email.

Experts said the practice prevents the intergenerational transfer of wealth. They also say it can negatively impact the chance’s of someone’s success returning home once they are released from prison.

“By imposing these additional burdens on people who are trying to reenter their communities, the state is making it very difficult for them to achieve any form of economic stability, and relatedly, avoid future involvement with the criminal legal system,” Rafael said.

The Star’s Kacen Bayless contributed to this story.