This story is part of a series examining the death penalty in Texas. You can read more about how the system works here and a firsthand account from a reporter who witnessed an execution here.
LIVINGSTON, Texas — In a small town in East Texas sits the Allan B. Polunsky Unit, a maximum-security prison for men convicted of violent crimes, such as sexual assault and homicide.
But the 584,000-square-foot penitentiary in Livingston, with a maximum capacity of 2,984 inmates,is infamous for housing the men on the state's death row.
Women sentenced to death are confined at the Patrick L. O'Daniel Unit, a much smaller facility located more than 200 miles away in the city of Gatesville.
Inside the Polunsky Unit
Every inmate in Texas is assigned a unique seven-digit number known as the Texas Department of Criminal Justice Identification Number (TDCJ-ID).
However, death row prisoners have special numbers. The letters "DR" on the back of their white cotton shirts also serve as a clear indicator of their status.
Isolated from the general population, each death row prisoner is locked in a cell of roughly 60 square feet located in a segregated unit of the prison.
These cells contain a metal bed with a thin mattress, a toilet, a sink, and a small window.
For decades, prisoners awaiting execution in Texas have been kept segregated, spending at least 22 hours a day confined to their cells, according to TDCJ, which defines death row segregation as "restrictive housing."
Although most states with the death penalty have kept inmates in isolation, some — such as Florida and Louisiana — have begun to ease restrictions after settling lawsuits demanding more humane conditions, according to the Death Penalty Information Center. Others, like the state of Arizona, have ended their policy of keeping those sentenced to death in solitary confinement.
Research has shown that prolonged periods of extreme isolation can cause psychological distress to those incarcerated, including attention and memory deficits, paranoia, depression, and suicidal thoughts.
According to a study by the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, these effects are especially significant for inmates who already suffer from mental illness.
"All too frequently, mentally ill prisoners decompensate in isolation, requiring crisis care or psychiatric hospitalization. Many simply will not get better as long as they are isolated," the study adds.
The system wasn't always like this. In 1999, after seven death row prisoners escaped from the Ellis Unit in Texas, the state moved the entire death row population to the Polunsky Unit and imposed a stricter regime, eliminating access to work and group recreation.
"I think it's a form of torture"
Death row prisoners are allowed two-hour visits. The visits are "non-contact" with a thick glass that deepens the distance between the inmate and the person on the other side.
The wife of Juan Balderas, a prisoner who has been on death row for nearly 11 years, says he tries not to talk about the conditions he is living in.
"He lives there in a small cell for 24 hours," Yancy Escobar explained to Telemundo Houston in April. "Suddenly, they take him out to shower two, three times a week. The only time you can leave that cell is when you go to shower, and they take you in handcuffs. They put you in there, take off the handcuffs, you shower for 15 minutes, and they take you back to your cell."
With routine checks and breakfast at 3:30 a.m., sleep is not continuous on death row.
"I think it's a form of torture because you can't sleep well, because they're waking you up every hour," Escobar said.
Death row inmates have access to reading, writing, and even legal materials, according to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ). Some may have access to the radio, depending on their custody level.
These inmates can also leave their cells during recreation time, which occurs a few days a week, according to TDCJ. Even then, death row inmates are kept separated in different cells, which prevents them from having contact with other prisoners.
An alleged staffing shortage does not guarantee even that small "freedom," according to Escobar. "They say they have recreation, but it's not true. There aren't enough workers or enough guards," she claimed.
A 2024 report by the Texas Sunset Advisory Commission, the legislative agency that looks closely at the performance of state agencies, found that the state's prison system faces a staffing crisis that endangers both inmates and employees.
The report labeled 27 units as the "most difficult to staff," and while it does not mention the Polunsky Unit directly, it warns that the shortage affects the system broadly. According to the 189-page report, some prisons operate with up to 70% of guard positions vacant.
The Polunsky Unit lists 554 employees: 338 in security, 102 classified as non-security employees, 12 in education, and 52 contracted employees for medical and mental health services, according to its website.
Lawsuit Alleges “Harmful” Conditions
The conditions Escobar described are not far from those outlined in a lawsuit filed by a group of Texas death row inmates in 2023, who allege that prisoners sentenced to death go weeks without adequate recreation time.
In the lawsuit, four inmates sued the state, arguing that solitary confinement was a "psychologically and physically damaging practice" that violated their constitutional rights.
Beyond the lack of recreation time, the lawsuit also states that death row prisoners inside Polunsky have inadequate access to medical care and are left "helpless alone in the event of a medical crisis."
"With little opportunity to interact with guards or medical providers, prisoners at the Polunsky Death Row Unit who are experiencing physical traumas or illnesses often must wait hours — or days or weeks — to receive medical care," the lawsuit states.
According to the lawsuit, staffing shortages in the unit have made routine welfare checks and inmates' access to medication exceedingly difficult.
"The Polunsky Death Row Unit does not offer adequate monitoring of mentally ill prisoners who are sentenced to death — a fact that is particularly troubling in light of the traumatic impact of solitary confinement on mental health," the lawsuit states.
According to the TDCJ's Correctional Managed Healthcare Policy Manual, all death row inmates must receive a weekly visit from mental health staff "to ensure access to care."
State attorneys argued that the lawsuit should be dismissed, stating that restrictive conditions are "part of the penalty offenders pay for their crimes against society" and that "the Constitution does not mandate comfortable prisons."
The case remains pending.
