Releases, Not Transfers, Must Be at the Center of Prison Closure Plans

This story was co-published with Truthout.

For decades, the California Rehabilitation Center (CRC) in Norco has been known for its deplorable conditions: extreme heat, pest infestations, unreliable programming, and water so unsafe that guards refuse to drink it. As residents of CRC, we experienced these conditions firsthand. So we celebrated when the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) announced in August 2025 that CRC had been named for closure. Almost one year later, as of July 29, 2026, CRC has officially been emptied. Today, the empty prison remains in “warm shutdown” mode, costing the state hundreds of millions of dollars.

The announcement of CRC Norco’s closure was a testament to years of community advocacy to reduce the imprisoned population, expose systemic issues in CRC that are reflective of those throughout the prison system, and highlight possibilities for non-carceral reinvestment in California’s Riverside County. Imprisoned people, loved ones, and advocates had exposed the toxicity in CRC for decades — leading to the prison being marked for closure in 2012 by the CDCR under then-Gov. Jerry Brown. In 2021, Californians United for a Responsible Budget (CURB) named CRC Norco as the top state prison to close based on a survey of more than 2,000 imprisoned people. We connected with CURB in 2024 to share testimony about CRC’s horrific conditions and failing infrastructure.

There is much to learn from looking back at CRC’s closure process. During its closure, imprisoned people in CRC Norco have been subjected to a gauntlet of unnecessary burdens and persecution, similar to those endured in prior closures. California needs to close more prisons — they cause more harm than they address while draining billions of dollars in resources from the communities that need them most. But we also can’t let the CDCR use closures as an excuse to punish imprisoned people with tumultuous transfers, denial of food and medicine, restricted access to rehabilitative programming, and retaliation. Releases, not chaotic transfers, must be the center of any future closure plan.

As CRC emptied out, one of us stayed behind while the other was transferred to another prison. From both sides of the closure process, we have seen the same pattern of preventable harm.

For those who remained inside CRC during the closure process, including college students finishing classes at Norco College or UC Riverside’s prison education program, conditions rapidly worsened. After the announcement of CRC’s closure, we were moved to the “punishment dorm,” where roughly 200 people were packed together with only six small tables for studying. We endured barely functioning sinks and showers, cockroach infestations, and unbearable heat with no working swamp coolers or ventilation. These conditions served no legitimate purpose and disrupted those trying to study, participate in programs, and cope with institutional stress.

In May 2026, those who remained saw their already child-sized meal portions cut in half because CDCR allegedly failed to order enough food to sustain us during the closure process. First, the eggs disappeared from breakfast trays, leaving empty compartments. Was this a mistake, or another CDCR policy that rewards neglect? The answer became clear when portions were reduced again, leaving us hungry and undernourished.

Accustomed to operating with little scrutiny, CDCR bristled when we sought support from our loved ones about the food shortage. At first, administrators denied the problem, then threatened us, demanding we “stop calling our people and complaining.”

Later that month, correctional officers forced last-minute housing changes in the middle of the night, pushing dorms beyond mandated capacity limits and making already unsafe conditions worse. The roughly 400 people who remained in CRC at the time were packed 80 to a dorm designed for 60. These conditions were compounded by rising temperatures and recent fires that filled the air with asbestos-contaminated smoke.

For others, the transfer process carried its own set of abuses.

Calls for transfer came with no warning, and often in the middle of the night. This is standard protocol, as exhaustion is meant to disorient us. Caffeine and nerves had us trembling as we marched to the transfer cages. We waited in that cramped concrete box until 7:45 a.m. with nothing to eat but a single PB&J. After hours on a prison bus, shackled at the waist, ankles, and wrists, the same snack was provided again while we waited at the receiving institution. These are the conditions of transfer: hunger, exhaustion, and nagging uncertainty — all used to mentally subdue us.

Some of us left CRC on December 22, 2025, and were transferred to California State Prison in Lancaster (CSP-LA). A handful of us arrived without our property. After watching others receive their personal items, we were told that ours were never loaded onto the bus.

During transfers, some wait weeks for belongings, and others never receive them. A person’s property can disappear without a trace, with no consequences for staff involved. To make matters worse, CSP-LA was in no hurry to issue state clothing. With only one outfit and no winter apparel, those of us without clothes went freezing in our cells with no food, hygiene products, and nothing to do but think and wait.

It took weeks for some of us to receive our property, and even longer to get our state-issued tablets, which are used for phone calls and text messages. During those weeks without them, guards barely let us out to use the phones. When they did, the process was not set up to guarantee access, making it nearly impossible to contact our loved ones. Days went by waiting in phone lines, only to be forced back into our cells, sometimes without even the means to send a letter. 

These harms are not an inevitable part of the prison closure process. Instead of addressing preventable problems, CDCR has used transfers, overcrowding, and long program waitlists to argue for preserving and expanding corrections budgets, even as incarcerated populations decline. The most insidious part: CDCR uses the allure of initiatives that, in reality, mask the harms of incarceration by building “kinder, gentler cages” to justify its power grabs, convincing lawmakers that spending billions on newer prisons and other gimmicks are somehow the antidote to the devastation that prisons cause in the first place. Reducing reliance on a toxic prison system and preventing harm are not at odds; in fact, they must go hand in hand. 

The state can take concrete steps to mitigate harm, the clearest being prioritization of releases over transfers in closure plans. One way to do this is by evaluating people for resentencing eligibility when a prison gets named for closure. On average, it costs at least $128,000 annually to imprison one person, with additional resources being spent on the transfer process. If individuals are assessed for release following a closure announcement, the transfer process could be avoided altogether and eligible individuals can return home. 

In cases where release does not happen, imprisoned people should be given meaningful choice in the transfer process. Their needs, including proximity to loved ones, health care, continuation of programming, and completion of programming scheduled to finish before closure, should be honored.

Rushed transfers are preventable — and a product of CDCR’s own making. By labeling closure-related transfers “emergencies,” CDCR circumvents laws designed to reduce involuntary and adverse transfers. CRC Norco was not scheduled to close until the fall of 2026; had CDCR followed that timeline, more of us could have had our family and programming needs met. Instead, many have spent over two months without timely hearings. Within this period, our family visitation was severely limited and we were barred access to programming, education, employment opportunities, yard, religious services, the library, and even purchasing basic hygiene and food items.

The suffering unfolding at CRC and in the transfer process is not a necessary part of closure. These are choices made by CDCR and CRC staff. As CDCR continues to push prison expansion, California can and should remain focused on closing more prisons without the abuse. Future plans should center releases over transfers so closure meaningfully reduces the human cost of incarceration.