Lives saved: Correctional officers’ experiences in the prevention of prisoner death by suicide

Abstract

Few researchers have empirically examined completed or attempted death by suicide in prison and, of the available research, most has been conducted in the United Kingdom. Our purpose in this article is to increase awareness and knowledge about “lives saved” in custody drawing on the voices of Canadian provincial and territorial correctional officers (COs; n = 43). We investigate their experiences with attempted and completed death by suicide to shed light on the commonality of such experiences, and their impact on officers over time. Based on an analysis of semi-structured interview transcripts, we explore the effects of exposure to these potentially psychologically traumatic events on COs, specifically their emotional responses, as well as the supports available, both informal and formal, as they navigate their work. We found that the roles of officers, which frequently overlap with the domains of mental health support and first response in a crisis situation, are often under-recognized and underappreciated. Ultimately, we highlight the need for increased dialogue surrounding workplace trauma and mental health in prison and explore the institutional barriers that arise when facilitating discussion about mental health. We show that although some lives are lost in prison, due to natural and nonnatural causes, many lives are saved by prison staff.

Keywords

Correctional officers suicide prison well-being lives saved

Introduction

Prisoners will sometimes die in custody due to natural (e.g. terminal illness, cardiac arrest, or old age) or nonnatural (e.g. injury, overdose, or death by suicide) causes. Moreover, completion of death by suicide in a prison setting tends to be engulfed in media attention and inquiries, and the correctional officers (COs) on shift are often scrutinized and held accountable (Correctional Services Canada (CSC), 2014; Jesso, 2018). In response, stakeholders, employers, and organizations tend to focus on identifying factors contributing to death by suicide, finding new avenues of prevention, and proposing ways to rectify whatever resulted in said deaths (CSC, 2017a, 2017b; Jesso, 2018). Although all are necessary areas of discussion and inquiry, there is a notable lack of information and reporting on the successful interventions in attempted death by suicide and the recognition of those who saved these lives—the COs. The occupational mandate of the CO is to preserve life and to maintain the safety and security (i.e. care, custody, and control) of prisoners, staff, the institution, and civilians or society at large (CSC, 2018). Central to the role of COs is maintaining the safety and well-being of those who are incarcerated, which includes intervening in and preventing, if possible, nonnatural deaths (CSC, 2017a, 2017b).

In this article, our intention is not to deny that deaths occur in custody, or the tragedy of those occurrences; each life lost is a societal loss that deserves recognition in its own right, affecting the families, friends, staff, and prisoners living alongside the deceased. Our objective, using the voices of COs with experience working in diverse provincial and territorial correctional institutions in Canada, is to draw attention to the efforts undertaken by COs to preserve the lives of those prisoners in their custody and to unpack what such efforts entail and how intervening in attempted and completed deaths by suicide affects COs. For instance, in the United Kingdom, Ludlow et al. (2015) found that “staff can feel unfairly blamed ‘when things go wrong’ and unrecognized for their successes in preventing deaths” (p. 57). Yet, there are many persons working in correctional facilities who are genuinely invested in the safety and security of the prisoners, the institution, their colleagues, and themselves and take pride in their occupational role, especially in situations wherein they are able to prevent an unnatural in-custody death.

Deaths in custody

In Canada, there is 1 federal prison system, CSC, and 13 provincial and territorial correctional systems. Although each system is largely independently governed, there are select basic underpinnings that inform how COs respond to deaths in custody. In the federal system, in accordance with section 19 of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act, correctional staff are required to investigate and report whenever a prisoner dies in custody (1992: see also Commissioner’s Directive number 041). In the event of a natural in-custody death, a mortality review, the purpose of which is to review the “events, overall care, quality of life, and the clinical care” the deceased received before their death, is conducted (1992: see also Commissioner’s Directive number 041). In the event of a nonnatural death, however, the National Board of Investigation (NBOI) will conduct a more thorough investigation of the events surrounding the custodial death (CSC, 2017a, 2017b). Often, as part of the NBOI, staff and management will also be investigated to examine if correctional policies and practices were followed (CSC, 2017a, 2017b).¹ ^, ² Following either a mortality review or an NBOI review, recommendations may be made to change policies and practices with the intention of preventing future deaths.

Providing the most recent available statistics for federal corrections in Canada, an annual report published by CSC indicated that from 2000 to 2016 there were 857 prisoner deaths in federal custody. Of those deaths, 34% (N = 292) were classified as nonnatural (CSC, 2017a, 2017b).³ The proportion of nonnatural in-custody deaths fluctuated over the 16-year period, ranging from 25% to 44%. Most recently, in 2015/2016, there were 23 nonnatural in-custody deaths, accounting for 35% of the total deaths in custody for that year. The rate of nonnatural deaths was 1.58 per 1000 prisoners (CSC, 2017a, 2017b). The most common type of nonnatural in-custody death from 2011 to 2016, occurring most frequently in the Atlantic (25%) and Prairie (23%) regions, was death by suicide. Across the 15-year period, death by suicide occurred in 18% (n = 154) of the cases of nonnatural in-custody deaths, while in 2015–2016 death by suicide remained the leading cause of nonnatural in-custody deaths, occurring across all regions and most frequently in the Atlantic region (44% of nonnatural deaths in custody).⁴ Other less common sources of nonnatural death in custody include overdoses, and the relatively uncommon death by accident, homicide, and by other methods (CSC, 2017a, 2017b). Given death by suicide remains the most common form of nonnatural death in prison, and statistics do not include attempted deaths by suicide, death by suicide is clearly a significant issue for COs and societies more broadly.

Despite the number of deaths in custody, there are no reports of prevented deaths in custody. Such events are either not tracked or never published. Given the range of nonnatural causes of deaths in custody, and the relative frequency of deaths, it is logically deduced that many lives are saved that would otherwise result in death, albeit through intervention in overdoses (McKendy et al., 2019), violence, and attempted death by suicide (CSC, 2017a, 2017b).

Impact of in-custody deaths

The relationships between COs and prisoners are complicated by the diverse manifestations of care and the fact that staff are trained to not emotionally invest in prisoners (Arnold, 2016; Ricciardelli, 2016; Tait, 2011). Yet, researchers have suggested staff are more likely to be affected rather than unaffected by prisoner death by suicide (Barry, 2019; Snow and McHugh, 2002). Specifically, when there is a close working relationship between prisoners and correctional staff, the death of a prisoner can substantially weigh on the emotions and reactions of COs; particularly COs who had frequent contact with the now deceased, or have contact with the struggling prisoner (Crawley, 2004; Lancaster, 2001; Wright et al., 2006). For example, Crawley (2004) draws attention to the prisoner–officer relationship in explaining that officers who maintained positive relationships with the deceased often experience feelings of loss and grief. Snow and McHugh (2002) found that many correctional staff experience feelings of numbness, shock, self-scrutiny, and soul searching, collective guilt, and feelings of failure following the death of a prisoner. Yet, during the actual incident, Barry (2017) found that officers often respond automatically and instinctively, using skills learned on the job rather than through training, and, following the incident, quickly return to their regular tasks and daily responsibilities. Her interviewees described the need to immediately return to their work as “an operational necessity” with many staff underlining the “nature of prison work and their responsibility with regard to custody and care of all prisoners as factors obliging a speedy return to their routines” (p. 57). Yet, such actions did not stop the experiences from affecting their perspectives (e.g. their views of working night shifts where completed or attempted death by suicide is more likely to occur) and behaviors (e.g. avoiding certain cells where a prisoner was found either attempting or completing death by suicide) (Barry, 2017, 2019).

The longer term impacts on COs of experiencing attempted or completed death by suicide are enduring, with Borrill and Hall (2006) finding that officers reexperience the incident and the associated distress. Wright et al. (2006), in a study examining the incidence of trauma and the trauma-related symptoms experienced by the prison staff involved in death by suicide, quantitatively assessed their impact on 49 COs who had been involved in a prisoner death by suicide. Using self-report measures that assess trauma symptoms, locus of control, problem-solving style, life orientation, and social support, they found that 36.7% of COs exhibited clinical-level symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).⁵ More recently, Sweeney et al. (2018) conducted semi-structured interviews with correctional staff (n = 9) to learn about the impact of prisoner deaths on staff, as well as the coping strategies used by the officers whose prisoners under their supervision engaged in suicide-related behaviors. They found that COs described an institutional culture which emphasized that emotions, especially negative ones, had no place within the prison. In consequence, individuals refrained from reaching out for support following a suicide-related incident for fear of being seen as weak by their colleagues (see also Crawley, 2004; Ricciardelli, 2019) or for fear of reprisal from management or other staff (Ricciardelli et al., 2018a, 2019; Sweeney et al., 2018).

Another hindrance to treatment seeking, reported by researchers, is the need for officers to appear resilient and capable in the eyes of their colleagues and those in custody (Barry, 2017, 2019). Indeed, “feeling rules” (or shared norms) continue to shape the presentation of self and performance of emotions for COs even after the death of a prisoner (Crawley, 2004; Hochschild, 1983; Nylander et al., 2011). Moreover, Barry (2019) found that, due to “feeling rules,” informal support achieved through humor and storytelling was preferred over formal supports. Nonetheless, Ludlow et al. (2015) emphasize that quick and effective support is necessary for staff after the experience of death by suicide; however, they too recognize that engagement in formal support is low. Yet, support is critical for staff to effectively navigate future incidents of death or attempted death by suicide.

Sweeney et al. (2018) reported that participants in their study generally admitted to feeling underqualified and as though they lacked the necessary resources and skills for navigating deaths in custody (see also Ludlow et al., 2015). Nonetheless, prison staff still felt accountable for the deaths, experienced guilt, and ruminated over the event (Sweeney et al., 2018). Arnold (2005) found that after experiences of death by suicide, staff reported anxiety about responding to such incidents in the future as well as heightened awareness about the possibility of such deaths. Barry (2017, 2019) also described a heightened awareness among her interviewees, such that some went so far as to ensure a knife was available on rounds just in case a prisoner required a ligature to be cut.

Of note, Sweeney et al. (2018) also found that in situations where prison staff prevented an in-custody death, they experienced encouraging emotions, including pride and achievement; feelings which served to reinforce their occupational commitment. Preventing death by suicide arguably provides the CO with a sense of control and accountability within their occupational role and reinforces their occupational commitment.

Current study

Our purpose is to increase awareness and knowledge about “lives saved” in custody. Reflecting on the empirical literature and reports such as those produced by CSC, missing is the number of deaths that have been prevented due to the care and attention of correctional staff. Few researchers have empirically examined completed suicides in prison, let alone attempted death by suicide, and of the available research much has been conducted in the United Kingdom (Bogue and Power, 1995; Crighton, 2006; Crighton and Towl, 1997; Liebling, 1999, 2002; Towl and Crighton, 1998). In response, we investigate the experiences with attempted death by suicide of Canadian provincial and territorial COs to shed light on the commonality of such experiences, and their impact on officers over time. We explore the effects of exposure to these potentially psychologically traumatic events on COs, specifically their emotional responses, as well as the supports available, both informal and formal, as they navigate their work environment (Crawley and Crawley, 2008; Lambert et al., 2009, 2010; Ricciardelli, 2019). Overall, we show that although some lives are lost in prison, due to natural and nonnatural causes, more lives are being saved by COs in prison.

Methods

The study emerged within a larger project examining the interpretations and perspectives of COs toward their occupational roles, those in their custody, and how they navigate the occupational nuances of prison work. A total of 43 individuals with experience working as a CO in a provincial or territorial correctional facility are included in the current study; two of whom were no longer employed as provincial/territorial COs at the time of interview. Of participants, 14 self-identified as female and 29 as male. Their years of experience working as a CO ranged from 6 months to more than 25 years; 42 had worked with adult male prisoners, 14 with adult females, and 12 with incarcerated male and female youth.

Participants were recruited through either an e-mail circulated via the institutional listservs or, more commonly, word-of-mouth when the primary investigator was on site interviewing. Regarding the latter, participants tended to talk to their colleagues about the study, which generated additional interest in participating. Interviews ranged anywhere from 45 to 90 min in length, depending on participant talkativeness and the level of detail to which each chose to share. Each participant in the study, as per inclusion criteria, brought up independently (i.e. without being asked) responding to prisoner death by suicide, either attempted, completed, or both, and often participants had experience responding to more than one suicide-related incident. Despite our focus on COs, we note that other prison staff (e.g. health-care professionals, social workers, prison chaplains, education staff, etc.) will also have experiences with attempted or completed death by suicide in prisons

Interview transcripts were coded for emergent themes in a multistep process consistent with a semi-grounded constructed approach (Charmaz, 2006; Glaser and Strauss, 1967; Ricciardelli et al., 2010). First, an author conducted a preliminary coding of transcripts to identify any mention of suicide and coded each mention, and the associated discussion, under the primary theme “suicide.” Second, within the primary theme, the data were recoded into the secondary themes of attempted death by suicide and completion of death by suicide. Third, emergent subthemes within each secondary theme were further coded into nuanced categories, with axial coding (Strauss and Corbin, 1990), that constituted either an element of the context or content in which participants discussed suicide. Two members of the research team met after coding the first 10 interview transcripts to optimize a qualitative variant of inter-rater reliability, which included comparing coding schemes and notes for reliability. Researchers clarified any areas of discrepancy in their coding and identified areas and topics that were central emergent themes across transcripts. All quotes used in the article are edited for readability (e.g. removing speech fillers) without touching participant vernacular or tone. The data have been anonymized, such that names of people or places are changed and potentially identifying information removed. We were awarded ethical approval for the study from Memorial University of Newfoundland.

Results

We structure the results in three sections. First, we present narratives around institutional and personal responses to attempted death by suicide as experienced by COs. Next, we present how COs respond to such experiences and use their words to reveal how these experiences may have impacted on their mental health and well-being. We end the Results section by unpacking the supports in place (or lack thereof) for officers after their experience with potentially traumatic events.

Institutional and individual responses to death by suicide

COs discussed the institutional-level protocols in place for managing prisoners who are determined to be at risk of serious self-harm, and the impact that protocols have on COs. Noted preventative measures include mandated clothing (i.e. a “baby doll” or dress made of galvanized material that could not be ripped and used as a ligature), restraint belts, and isolating prisoners. These preventative measures are used across institutions and are described as having had success in increasing the amount of time in which officers are able to detect an attempt and intervene before a crisis situation occurs. Our participants further described that even what appear to be stringent preventative measures are not successful at stopping attempted or completed death by suicide. For example, a male former CO (he had left the occupation at the time of interview) spoke about responding to a man dressed in a baby doll who was attempting death by suicide:

…This guy was very creative and they had in their segregation cells, stools that were actually mounted into the floor and he took the arm hole of one side [of the baby doll] and put it over [the stool], put his head through the other arm hole and forced his way down to the ground and then just started rolling like an alligator, to asphyxiate himself…I was the second one on the scene…You do what you can, but the guy died. He was blue when I got there. (participant 1)

Participant 1’s words show that the prisoner, who was being housed in a segregated cell that allowed for additional surveillance, was also wearing a baby doll and used the preventative measure as his method of death by suicide.

In addition, eyes-on direct supervision, referring to having an officer stationed outside a cell constantly watching the prisoner who is considered to be at risk of death by suicide, was noted as a common preventative measure practiced by officers working across institutions. An officer, for example, described sitting outside the cell door of a prisoner requiring “eyes-on” intervention:

That night, I called 6 codes [a code is a call for immediate back-up and support from fellow staff]…I was sitting there doing one-minute checks on [the prisoner] and see what [they’re] doing every minute. I was sitting on a chair [and] I had my head on the cell door…We would call [a code and] then would have [the prisoner] cut down because you couldn’t go [in] to the cell yourself. (participant 58)

As the officer’s words demonstrate, the process of “eyes-on” intervention makes immediate intervention in an attempted death by suicide possible. Yet, eyes-on intervention places the burden of keeping the prisoner alive on the CO, even when the prisoner may be determined to end their life.

Protocol further requires that health-care staff (e.g. nurse, counselor), as well as the correctional “manager,” “captain,” or “supervisor” on shift be alerted to an incident of attempted or completed death by suicide. Moreover, an officer is to enter a cell, intervene in an attempted death by suicide, and then will, if necessary, perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) on the prisoner. The officer will continue to perform CPR, even if the prisoner is deceased, until a health practitioner with the authority to take over or call time of death arrives on scene. For example, an officer described an incident where a prisoner smuggled Valium into the institution and proceeded to consume the pills in an attempt to overdose. Participant 106 explained that

He was on Valium and I didn’t think he was going to breathe, and I rolled him over. I didn’t want to do the mouth-to-mouth [method of resuscitation]. Anyway, he coughs and he started breathing and…we took him to the hospital and got his stomach pumped.

In this example, the officer expresses concern about performing oral resuscitation on the prisoner in case it impinged on his own personal safety. If a face mask is not readily available, conducting oral resuscitation carries risk of disease, exposure, and infection.

Most commonly, COs described responding to persons hanging in their cell, followed by other forms of self-harm (e.g. slashing of wrists), or the aforementioned swallowing of pills in an attempt to overdose. For example, one officer, evidencing he cared for the prisoner (see Tait, 2011), described how protocol was broken in order to save a prisoner’s life after he had attempted to hang himself:

I was doing my rounds and looked in the cell and the guy was hanging. So I called on the radio for backup, opened the door, took my keys. And this is what you’re NOT supposed to do. You’re not supposed to open the door and go in by yourself. I opened the door, took my keys and threw my keys away so the inmate wouldn’t get them. I threw them down the hall so another officer would pick them up. I went in, grabbed the guy, lifted him up and then started undoing the rope—well actually not rope—the sheet. I did everything except wait for backup. I did everything right, I saved the guy. When I got him down, he fell onto the bed, which got him breathing. (participant 43)

General practice is for two people to enter the cell and a third to film the incident, and the participant’s breach of protocol by not waiting for other staff illustrates the risks that officers take to preserve lives and the complex forms of emotional labor they are engaged in (Crawley, 2004, Nylander et al., 2011).

In responding to attempted death by suicide, processes and protocols are broadly consistent across provinces and territories, however, the degree of follow-up care given to prisoners, of which details are beyond the scope of the current article, are not limited to health-care providers. In essence, much of the day-to-day support provision lies with the COs, who check in with the survivor, and are responsible to gauge their actions and ensure further intervention is not required. Officers felt that, in many cases, the prisoner is left to talk with a CO or, at times, a chaplain about their mental health concerns and the reasons for the attempted death by suicide. Participant 91 summarized their experiences providing mental health support:

…anytime somebody would be talking about suicide, I would go in and sit with them. And it didn’t matter how long I had to sit with them and talk; I know there’s two or three people I talked out of suicide.

The CO’s words emphasize the commitment exhibited by many officers to persevering prisoners’ lives whenever possible, and in doing so, also reveals the scope of the rapport officers build with prisoners. It is with rapport that officers are able to positively impact the daily experiences of prisoners.

Emotional response and mental health of COs

Becoming “Cold”

After exposure to any potentially traumatic event, including responding to an attempted death by suicide, COs must resolve any feelings derived from the experience. Responses to such exposure had varying effects. After repetitive exposure to attempted death by suicide made by prisoners, some COs, particularly those with longer tenure in the occupation, spoke of having to become “cold” to such incidents; they “needed” to be able to walk away. For instance, some officers talked about not needing to cope with incidents:

I’m definitely going to be [working here] for a while, and if I let everything like that get to me, then I’d be a lunatic. (participant 35)

You get desensitized. My personality has done a 180 since I started working here. (participant 7)

When you’re responding and doing what you have to do it feels normal. (participant 29)

In the first quote, the notion of developing immunity to repetitive exposure to trauma is expressed in order to cope with stressful situations. The detachment evidenced here is consistent with prior researchers’ findings that staff engage in emotional labor, specifically through detachment, when attempting to conceal emotional reactions to incidents (Barry, 2019; Crawley, 2004; Ricciardelli and Power, 2020). However, it can also be argued that since the officer has to consciously make this decision, these incidents are, to some degree, creating an impact. Desensitization or detachment, and the choice to remain stoic, may still cause impacts and emotional distress; an idea supported by the second quote where participant 7 acknowledges the impacts of desensitization on their personality. In the third quote, the need to remain stoic and appear unaffected by the attempted death by suicide is presented. The impression management that officers engage in appears to engender their general behaviors and self-presentation at work (Nylander et al., 2011).

Compromised well-being

Participant 150, echoing others, reflected on the initial shock felt after their first few exposures to prisoner suicidal behaviors:

For me, the one [who attempted death by suicide] that always comes back to me is the second one and I try to tell the newer people that when things happen to you, it may not affect you today, but if another one happens, you’ll remember it.

In speaking about the vivid and disturbing memories that are associated with these incidents, COs such as participant 33 described ruminating over events—crying following these experiences was not uncommon. Participant 107 added that “nothing” could fully prepare a person for attempted or completed death by suicide, explaining:

[the prisoner] was hanging on his toilet and we went in and [another officer] was giving him CPR. He died, and I just went to the main control [room] and I came out crying because it was my first [exposure].

Their words highlight that officers are affected by their experiences, whether they show it or not. Moreover, the impact of said experiences can be more intense when officers have worked closely or for a prolonged period of time with the prisoner (Cassidy et al., 2004; Ludlow et al., 2015; Tait, 2011). Overall, responding to traumatic events affects COs and, as officers’ words show, can have long-term impacts on their self and well-being.

COs also reported having flashbacks as well as panic attacks, depression, and depression-like symptoms (see also Barry, 2019; Sweeney et al., 2018). Some disclosed diagnoses of mental health conditions, including post-traumatic stress disorder:

Psychologically, I think this place has taken its toll on me. I’m on Cipralex right now. (participant 13)

I’ve been exhibiting these symptoms before coming to [work] and it’s been heightened in this place, and I didn’t know I was suffering from this [PTSD]. (participant 101)

And I would try and close my eyes and go to sleep and I would see his head there in my eyes. That played with me for a few days. (participant 21)

Across the sample, officers were affected by psychologically traumatic incidents, and many said the experiences invaded their thoughts for periods of time after the occurrence. COs continue to see the person whose life they saved on shift; they check the same cell where they intervened in an attempted death by suicide multiple times a day and often work on the same unit where the incident occurred. Our findings are consistent with those of Barry (2017, 2019), who describes interviewees in her study as undergoing changes in perspectives and behaviors after such incidents.

Several COs explained how they understand that it is the gradual impact of these incidents over time that affects and potentially harms their mental health or that of their colleagues. For example, participant 58, stated: “I am cynical. I am judgemental…I don’t like [how] I’ve seen thousands of people attempt suicide and I don’t like that suicide has become a regular part of my conversation.” The participant’s words would indicate that they are incorporating said experiences into their everyday conversations; an introspective realization that reveals the shaping effects on lived experiences of repetitive exposure. As participant 22 further attested: “Your coping skills, your education, your experience all have a big part in [the job].”

Empathy

COs reported sadness after prisoners’ attempted or completed death by suicide. Here, officers explained that a prisoner’s first attempt, either successful or not, was most impactful—particularly when unexpected. COs reported feelings of disbelief, shock, and fear at times when responding and processing the incident in question. Participant 75, for instance, described

the struggle that I find here with [suicidal] behaviours is the desensitization that we all go through, and the lack of empathy. And I think that everybody here has empathy, but they don’t show it because they’re COs. It’s not cool.

Participant 75’s words show that empathy is present, however, prison culture and the job itself leaves COs feeling they must not show their emotional responses to avoid being interpreted as “sensitive” or “weak” (Crawley, 2004; Nylander et al., 2011; Ricciardelli, 2019; Ricciardelli and Power, 2020). Formal conduct rules among COs that regulate displays of emotions at work operate alongside the informal conduct rules learned among colleagues at work. Together, informal and formal rules, Nylander and colleagues (2011) argue “become key elements of the POs’ [COs] occupational identities” (p. 470).

Practices and supports after potentially traumatic events

Consistent with research findings from studies on COs and death by suicide in Ireland and the United Kingdom (Barry, 2019; Ludlow et al., 2015), after any suicide-related incident, COs explain, the norm is for officers to continue working until the end of their shift. Some officers reported being unable to go home following an attempted death by suicide, for reasons that ranged from the need to complete required paperwork, to waiting to be interviewed by management, to staff culture. For instance, participant 107 noted that, in their institution, there is an expectation that the paperwork will be completed immediately following an incident, regardless of if the officer is “sitting there and shaking, but no, [management] needs your paperwork before the end of the day.” Participant 107 also explained that after an incident “you keep doing your rounds…just keep going…they [management] just don’t care, so we don’t care anymore.” As evidenced in participant 107’s words, officers feel they cannot take time to process and reflect or seek guidance following an incident, which is found to amplify stress (see Ludlow et al., 2015). Moreover, their words highlight the tension and distrust between management and COs.

Some COs also described feeling fearful about showing any emotion after responding to an incident. In consequence, although officers may find the experience “traumatizing” and “stressful” (participant 108), most, even if it was possible or desired, were unwilling to be relieved from their duties after such incidents. Instead, COs would finish their paperwork and maintain a self-presentation of being stoic and able to handle the incident. Although COs felt their colleagues will often be understanding immediately following an incident, work returned “to normal” quickly and officers were expected to process the situation and, at least, appear to move on. As suggested by Crawley (2004) and Nylander et al. (2011), COs must be very careful in the display and management of their emotions, specifically in showing “inappropriate emotions,” such as sadness. As such there remains a conflict between the professional role of the CO and the compassionate, more humane role of a CO in prison work (Nylander et al., 2011). Overall, in our sample, interviewees agreed that the nature of the work demands that the officers are capable, both mentally and physically, to process difficult and sometimes dangerous situations, and this is reflected in workplace culture and expectations.

Informal support

Ludlow et al. (2015) found that “many prison staff preferred to find support from colleagues rather than the Staff Care Team [formal support] following a death in custody” (p. xi). In our sample, interviewees revealed varied interest in seeking support informally, with some finding it helpful to talk about incidents, and others not. Regarding the former, participant 125 explained that while they generally felt unaffected by attempted death by suicide; “it’s good that my best friends also work [at the prison], and also my other friends are cops, so if something happens at work, we talk about it, and I find it gets a lot of it out.” Their words show that sharing experiences with colleagues can increase the comfort felt when/if confiding in one another. Several (not all) officers also noted their colleagues “check-in” on them after incidents; inferring that staff recognize the potential effects of such events on well-being and try to provide some semblance of comfort and support. Some COs also described turning to their spouse or partner for informal support, though sometimes this was ineffective. For example, participant 129 explained: “Now running to a code if someone is hanging—it’s normal. And that’s sad, really, and then your spouse doesn’t understand.” These words reveal the undeniable difference between lived experiences at work versus at home; experiences that may be difficult for a spouse or someone who is not employed at a prison to fully comprehend. In consequence, the provision of the emotional support desired for coping and processing the event becomes a seemingly unreasonable request from some outside the profession.

Nonetheless, for many officers, talking with colleagues (the most common source of support noted) or spouses/partners was how they coped with such incidents. Yet officers also explained that speaking to their colleagues about such incidents was, at times, challenging because of the difficult emotions they were processing or because, in many correctional workspaces, they felt discussions about mental health and coping were avoided. Participant 41 described how they felt after responding to an attempted death by suicide and the lack of informal support provided: “I felt okay, it was just weird. It’s hard to explain really…Maybe someone should have asked how I was doing, but no one does.” Here, the officer speaks to how hiding the emotional impact of responding to attempted or completed death by suicide is linked to the nature of the prison environment; they are not asked about their experiences or how they are doing which reinforces the obligation, inherent within the informal conduct rules, to suppress emotions.

Regarding those COs who preferred to keep to themselves rather than talk about potentially traumatic events, the explanation from several officers was that they prefer to process emotions alone or outside of work, or, as previously noted, they felt immune to the effects of such experiences (e.g. “To be honest I don’t let that stuff get to me,” participant 35). Although they felt no need to discuss workplace incidents because they did not feel affected, other officers felt that not talking about mental health was an “unwritten thing.” Showing emotion after a stressful incident remains uncommon, as explained by participant 124; “If they [are affected by an incident], they hide it pretty well. I’ve never seen anyone go off on stress [leave].” Here, officers may seek to avoid being seen as vulnerable which is equated to being weak and thus unable to perform their occupational responsibilities.

Formal support

In many prisons, critical incident stress management (CISM), a form of post-incident debriefing, is implemented following an attempted or successful death by suicide.⁶ CISMs, COs’ describe, are intended to provide the staff involved in the incident with an opportunity to talk about the occurrences. Despite the intention of CISMs, not all staff felt CISMs were helpful and that CISMs were not consistently offered or offered in ways that the affected staff were able to attend. For example, participant 107 explained that a CISM is “supposed to be held within 24 hours, but sometimes it’s a week later.” Others noted:

I was working the day it happened, so I couldn’t go. I could have, [but] I just would rather be there [on shift]. (participant 124)

[The CISM was] like a comedy show…there is no real consistency. (participant 127)

In some cases, as evidenced by participant 124’s words, COs chose not to attend the debriefing, either because they did not want to miss their shift or because they felt the CISM was not effective for managing workplace stress, especially after time had elapsed between the incident and scheduled debriefing. Moreover, as demonstrated by participant 127, CISMs may be compromised by the lack of consistency in timing and structure. These findings are consistent with those of Ludlow et al. (2015), who found low engagement in critical incident support after attempted or completed deaths by suicide.

Stress leave after a potentially psychologically traumatic event was discussed by several interviewees. Some COs found the process of obtaining doctor’s approval and filling out the required paperwork to be easier than others. However, beyond apparent barriers created by the formal administrative processes tied to medical leave, officers also reported that management’s support of leave varied greatly across institutions and provinces, with some COs feeling that management resented officers who sought leave. Those who felt supported explained that taking the time to talk about the impact of prison deaths on mental health were common and accepted practices, and sick leave due to a mental health concern would be accommodated by management. To exemplify, a CO noted that following an incident “if you can’t handle some of the stresses, [management] will help you and they’ll get you to talk to a union rep in the building and [start with] taking the rest of the day off.” This was in stark contrast to the many officers who reported that mental health issues were sometimes questioned by management, with some feeling their concerns were not validated. Here, a CO described:

[If someone has a] physical injury, it’s healed, and [they’ll get sent back to work]. For those people who suffer mental injuries, it is questioned, it is not accepted. [Management has] a sick time policy and if you’re off, they won’t recognize a psychologist or psychiatrist treating you. (participant 1)

Participant 1’s words, consistent with the experiences of other COs, reveal that the process of seeking approval for time off from management can be experienced as further exacerbating mental health issues, especially when officers’ requests are repeatedly felt to be met with judgment. Interpretations of being resented by other colleagues or management, and feeling like a burden, were especially salient among COs who had modified duties due to mental health issues. Officers without mental health concerns may not always understand the reality faced by some of their colleagues, leading to miscommunication, tension, and disconnect. Overall, an increased need for dialogue and conversation around issues of mental health and self-care following critical incidents is warranted to decrease the stigma associated with mental illness. Such processes should also be immediate to increase their effectiveness and to quell the potential for anxiety around responding to critical incidents in the future (Arnold, 2005; Barry, 2017; Ludlow et al., 2015).

Discussion

The CO’s role is care, custody, and control; COs are occupationally mandated to respond to the needs of those in their custody (CSC, 2017a, 2017b; McKendy et al., 2019). Within their occupational role, COs remain essential employees in all societies, obtaining little recognition for their occupational work, yet feeling the adverse effects of potentially traumatic events on their self, well-being, and mental health.

Beyond responding to attempted or completed death by suicide, COs continue to have in their custody prisoners who survive suicide attempts. The provision of mental health support is not part of the CO job description and training, where curriculum is determined by formal institutional and correctional services guidelines (Ludlow et al., 2015). Prior experience in mental health care will also affect the extent and depth of the discussion officers are open to having with prisoners about the emotions that precipitated their engagement in suicidal behaviors. However, many COs feel under- or un-prepared to provide such support and effectively engage in such discussion—although many described lending an ear to prisoners willing to talk and even dissuading prisoners from attempting death by suicide. Ludlow et al. (2015) found that participants in their UK study welcomed more training in dealing with attempted or completed death by suicide, and that training should include a greater focus on mental health awareness. Of course, the degree of support officers can provide to prisoners varies according to individual and institutional (informal and formal) conduct rules (Nylander et al., 2011) and will be reflective of each officer’s personal attitude toward mental health, as well as the level of rapport developed with the prisoner in recovery or distress. Moreover, informal conduct roles, alongside the soft power expressed by COs, may inhibit COs from providing support, particularly in institutions for men where conversation between staff and prisoners is seemingly somewhat prohibited (Crewe, 2009, 2011). However, many participants in our sample had rapport with prisoners and knew them rather well. Future researchers may wish to examine how rapport can be developed with success between prisoners and staff, particularly in institutions housing men. Rapport could help with early intervention and prevention in critical incidents, thus easing the occupational and living experience for all within the prison.

Also made apparent through the words of many COs are the gradual and long-term impacts on self and well-being that result from potentially psychologically traumatic events (Ricciardelli et al., 2019b; Snow and McHugh, 2002). Several officers reported becoming “cold” and desensitized to their work, while others experienced flashbacks and symptoms typically associated with depression and PTSD (Snow and McHugh, 2002; Sweeney et al., 2018). It should be noted that the same experience, however, may manifest with different emotional responses in different people, and these emotional responses are influenced by both internal factors, such as self-efficacy and self-awareness, as well as external factors, such as mental health training provided by the institution, and feelings of support and understanding from colleagues. Ruminating thoughts as well as crying immediately following an incident are not uncommon responses, and many officers reported feeling pressured to suppress empathic responses in an attempt to comply with workplace cultural norms and expectations. Given that interviewees did show empathy toward prisoners, we suggest that an area warranting further research is the manifestation of empathy among COs after an attempted or completed death by suicide, and who said empathy is directed toward (e.g. prisoners, colleagues, prisoner families, or others). Reflecting on Nylander et al.’s (2011) work, as well as that of Crawley (2004), we note how the emotional management inherent to prison work impacts expressions of empathy, particularly when juxtaposed with the informal and formal conduct rules and diverse occupational norms governing correctional work as an area of future inquiry.

Consistent with the findings of previous scholars, for officers in our sample, staying at work until the end of their shift or until the event is resolved, which may take several hours depending on the situation and volume of paperwork, feels like an expectation in many institutions (Barry, 2019). As a workplace, the prison setting is complicated because the nature of the job demands that officers are physically and emotionally strong and “competent” (Crawley, 2013; Crewe et al., 2015; Liebling, 2008). This expectation creates a workplace culture that values toughness, and, perhaps in consequence, talking about emotional and mental health can be challenging (Ricciardelli et al., 2018b). At least in part due to fear of being seen as incapable or weak, many officers in our sample chose not to reach out for support. Given the challenges involved in trying to initiate conversations about mental health, due to fear of violating workplace professional norms and boundaries, the silence around the discussion of well-being is, in consequence, further perpetuated. Perhaps an area requiring further research is the extent to which the need to “hide” the effects of incidents is a consequence of working in a carceral environment in which COs feel they cannot be vulnerable (Ricciardelli, 2017, 2019)

Overall, there appears to be a divide among officers across institutions with regard to the acceptability of seeking supports following an incident; while some COs preferred to cope with incidents alone, others found comfort in discussing their emotions with colleagues. Of those officers opting to cope with incidents outside of work by turning to their spouses/partners, challenges at times arose when sharing concerns because their spouses/partners are often not equipped to understand and respond to the harsh realities of prison work. This divide is also prevalent when discussing the formal supports available to officers after critical incidents, such as attempted or completed death by suicide. Although we did not formally evaluate the post-incident debrief, known as CISM, our participants described CISMs as lacking consistency and some officers reported not attending the CISM because they did not want to lose their shift. We encourage future researchers to examine in depth the overall level of effectiveness of the CISM debrief and to evaluate its effectiveness as a debriefing tool after a traumatic incident, as this was beyond the scope of our research.

Additionally, we found a divide where those who felt that talking about mental health was normalized reported fewer barriers in the way of taking a medical stress leave and reported feeling more supported by their management. However, this position was rather limited. More commonly, likely a result of the varied levels of openness surrounding the dialogue around mental health, officers reported feeling as though their management was not concerned about their mental well-being. Said response perpetuated sentiments of resentment and distrust among officers, further fueling a culture of silence—largely informed by informal conduct rules that dictate displays of emotion (Nylander et al., 2011). Necessary are processes to normalize discussion around mental health in the workplace, particularly after critical incidents that do and will continue to impact staff.

Our study is not without limitations. Specifically, the data were collected within a larger study on occupational experiences of COs, and it was not intended to analyze experiences around death by suicide or related attempts. Such themes emerged organically within the data which motivated our semi-grounded approach to the thematic analyses. As such, future research that seeks to unpack officers’ experiences around prisoner attempted or completed death by suicide is warranted, specifically research that unpacks how such incidents are responded to by management, support available to staff, and their perceived effectiveness, as well as clinical research into CO interpretations of events and the impact on their mental health. Future research might also examine why statistics on attempted death by suicide are not collected and analyzed, as such statistics are necessary if we are to fully conceptualize the scope of the problem of attempted and completed death by suicide in prisons. In addition, as with all qualitative data, we note that the generalizability of our findings is limited.

Conclusion

Our central contribution in the current article is to draw attention to the fact that across their career, nearly every CO will be required to respond to a prisoner’s completed or attempted death by suicide; or at minimum will know a prisoner who attempted or completed death by suicide. Such experiences, like all lived experiences, will shape staff and their occupational work to varying degrees (Crawley, 2004). Given the CO’s role in providing care, custody, and control of those held in prison, society has a responsibility to ensure that humane conditions of confinement, and thus employment, shape prison work and living. COs, as well as other prison staff, require support following responses to critical incidents and deserve to work in a humane environment where their needs are met.

Footnotes

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The authors received financial support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Council of Canada for the research.

ORCID iD

Rosemary Ricciardelli

Notes

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