Sunny Jacobs: Life Inside

My conditions on death row were unique. When my sentence was pronounced, there was a moratorium in Florida: there were a few men on death row, but I was the only woman in the whole state. The criminal justice system didn’t know what to do with me. They decided to put me in solitary confinement inside a women’s maximum-security prison in an isolated building, previously used for disciplinary purposes. It had its own barbed wire fence around it. There was no one else occupying the building but me and the guards. The rules were to have no contact with me. The guards were not supposed to talk to me because if they were to participate in my execution, it would be unhealthy for them to get to know me as a person. I had no contact with the prisoners either: they were not even allowed to wave at me. I was in complete isolation. It stayed that way for the five years that I was sentenced to death.

When I found out from my husband, who was on the men’s death row, how differently I was being treated, I filed a federal lawsuit. After I won the lawsuit, I was allowed 4 hours a week outside my cell. Then, I was allowed to have contact with prisoners that I might encounter. However, the guards made sure to let me out only during work hours. It would have been a shame if I had seen people that I could talk to, right? It made a big difference for me to get out. They allowed a prisoner of their choice to come interact with me in my cell for a couple of hours a week. It was great because I got to make a friend. When my sentence was commuted to life, I at least knew one person well.

I got up in the morning, I did my prayer, my yoga and my meditation, then ate breakfast. In the time between breakfast and lunch, I used to do mathematical problems in my head, think about what I might cook for my children when I get home and read the Bible. Between lunch and dinner, I used to exercise and write my letters to Jesse and to my family. That was my daily routine.

I only got out of my cell twice a week for a shower, eight minutes or ten if there was shampoo available, which wasn’t always the case. I got 15 minutes outside in a small courtyard with a guard who didn’t speak to me. Then I was brought back to my cell for another three or four days. There were days and days where I was alone. The meals were the only way of knowing when it was day or night.

All I had in my cell was a metal shelf for a bed with an old worn thin blanket and a pillow on top, a sink and toilet combination. That was it. The women were only allowed a certain amount of toilet roll and pads. Can you imagine that? There was a black market for pads! It’s terrible. I was only allowed two books: a law book and a Bible. At the time, the law book was incomprehensible to me.

Today, the prison I used to be in has a women’s death row, but it remains completely isolated from the rest of the population, which is very dangerous. Prisoners usually try to be supportive of each other by communicating with one another. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that. When no one can see what’s going on, all sorts of abuse can happen.

I was never allowed a phone call in the whole five years, not even with my children. My family could only come visit me four times a year during school holidays. The visits were very difficult and sad. My parents said it took the children about two weeks to recover emotionally from the visitation. It was very humiliating because they had to be searched. We weren’t allowed to touch each other. At first, the visits were held outside in a small courtyard where there was no shelter from the sun, and this was Florida. My skin would peel after the visits because of the sunburn.

In addition to the visits, the only real communication I had with the outside world were letters from my lawyer, my family and Jesse. They were very helpful. I also got an occasional visit from religious people.

After five years, my sentence was changed to life, and I was put in the general population of the prison for 12 years. I could not apply to any type of release for 20 years. Then, a statute was enacted that let people apply for early release if they had a clean record for ten years. As soon as some of us got to the ten-year mark, they changed the law - of course! One lady died after that because she gave up: she worked so hard, not a mark against her, obeyed every rules. She was the first one to get to the 10-year mark in her life sentence and then they changed the law. She passed away, having lost her hope. It was so sad, such a slap in the face.