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ADCRR, Let’s Talk About Who You’re REALLY Feeding

 

(Because It Ain’t the Inmates)

Let me get this straight.

You’ve restricted phone calls.
You’ve digitized mail and then acted surprised when it disappears.
You’ve tightened commissary limits so hard they’ve become survival barriers instead of “inventory management.”

And now — coffee, peanut butter, and ramen — the literal staples inmates live on — are being stripped away or priced out of reach.

You call it policy........I call it control.

And I’m done pretending those two things aren’t the same.

“Inventory Management,” According to ADCRR

In a January 2026 commissary update, ADCRR announced new food purchase and possession limits, stating the changes were necessary to address what they described as “excessive inventory.”

That’s the justification. Not safety. Not violence. Not contraband. Inventory.

They went on to say they “acknowledge the concerns” and appreciate the understanding of the “community and stakeholders.”

Let’s pause right there — because words matter.

Inmates aren’t shareholders. Families don’t have stock options. Wives don’t get voting power.

So when ADCRR says they’re worried about pleasing stakeholders, the obvious question is:

Who, exactly, are you prioritizing — and why aren’t the people inside on that list?

Peanut Butter Is Not a Luxury — It’s Survival

People on the outside hear “peanut butter” and think snack.

In prison, peanut butter is protein. It’s calories. It’s fuel.

Especially for men who work out — which many do, because exercise is one of the few healthy coping mechanisms available to them.

Peanut butter is:

  • Affordable protein

  • Long-lasting

  • Filling

  • Reliable when trays are small, spoiled, or inedible

For a lot of inmates, peanut butter is what they survive on.

And now jars are gone — replaced with small squeeze packets at outrageous prices, making basic nutrition harder to afford by design.

That’s not limiting excess. That’s rationing survival.

Ramen: The Backbone of Prison Meals

ADCRR has now limited soups to four per week.

Four.

Anyone who has ever worked inside a prison — including ADCRR staff — knows ramen is not optional. It’s the foundation of nearly every inmate-made meal.

Soups are stretched. They’re combined. They’re shared. They’re used to make food edible when the tray isn’t.

So explain this like I’m stupid (I’m not):

How does four soups last seven days? It doesn’t. And ADCRR knows that.

Coffee: The Last Piece of Normalcy

Coffee pouches are gone. Only single packets are allowed. Prices are higher.

Coffee in prison isn’t a luxury — it’s mental health care without a prescription.

It’s routine. It’s comfort. It’s how men cope with isolation, lockdowns, sleepless nights, anxiety, and depression.

And ADCRR decided that, too, needed to be taken away.

Phone calls have been limited again, especially for men in close and maximum custody. Fifteen minutes. Sometimes one call a day.

Mail has been digitized, centralized, outsourced, delayed, and frequently “lost.”

Families are told, “You can still write.”

But letters don’t arrive. Photos disappear. Books get returned. So let’s be honest: mail wasn’t eliminated — accountability was.

You can slap “Reentry” on the door in bold letters — just like the “NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION” labels stamped in bold on the food delivered to feed these men, hidden from the public eye so nobody asks why human beings are being served something legally labeled as unfit to eat.

Because that’s the truth they don’t want talked about.

They brand the department with words like Rehabilitation and Reentry while quietly serving meals marked not fit for humans, stripping away commissary staples like peanut butter, soups, and coffee — and then acting shocked when desperation, violence, and physical deterioration follow.

That’s not reform. That’s hypocrisy with a God damn logo.

And Don’t Blame the Inmates When It Breaks

ADCRR insists violence is “isolated.” They insist safety is their priority. They insist these changes are for the greater good. But you don’t reduce violence by starving people. You don’t rehabilitate by isolating them. And you don’t prepare anyone for reentry by removing every tool they use to survive incarceration.

You just create pressure. And trust me when I say, pressure always finds a release.

Know this.....

Families are watching. Wives are documenting. And the public is starting to ask the questions you hoped would never be asked.

So keep issuing polished press releases. We’re reading them.

And unlike you — we don’t need a PR department to tell the truth.

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