When Union Advocacy Obscures Institutional Reality
David J. Demas’s recent letter regarding conditions at USP Canaan reveals more about the limitations of partisan advocacy than it does about genuine institutional problems. While presenting himself as a whistleblower speaking truth to power, Demas delivers a one-sided narrative that systematically avoids uncomfortable questions about staff accountability and professional responsibility.
The Convenience of Selective Outrage
Demas’s letter follows a predictable pattern: every institutional problem becomes evidence of administrative failure, while staff performance remains beyond scrutiny. His complaint about synthetic drug smoke permeating prison facilities provides a telling example of this selective accountability.
According to Demas, “the air quality in areas is filled with smoke from ‘synthetic drugs’ that are being used by inmates and ignored by the warden.” This framing is both misleading and professionally irresponsible. Correctional officers like Demas have direct, daily contact with inmates and primary responsibility for cell searches and contraband detection. The identification of smokers requires no special training—discolored fingers are visible regardless of investigation skills or administrative oversight.
When staff members claim they’re “seeing specialists about the chemicals and smoke they are inhaling,” they’re describing exposure to toilet paper smoke from makeshift wicks, not massive clouds of synthetic cannabis. The actual drug component involves paper squares smaller than a fingernail—about one-quarter inch square, smaller than a pinky nail. The real air quality issue stems from smoldering toilet paper that inmates keep burning in their cells because batteries have been removed from commissary, making it harder to get a light. Officers should easily detect and confiscate these obvious fire hazards during routine duties.
The Accountability Vacuum
Perhaps most troubling is Demas’s complete avoidance of why such obvious violations persist. If smokers are “easily identified” and contraband is readily detectable, why does the problem continue? The uncomfortable answer involves a combination of negligent enforcement and systematic staff corruption that Demas conveniently ignores.
The economic incentives for corruption are substantial—synthetic cannabis sells for approximately $1,500 per page inside prison compared to $200 on the street. The smuggling operation has evolved significantly since the Bureau of Prisons began copying all incoming mail and destroying originals to prevent contraband delivery through correspondence. Now inmates “primarily rely on Correctional Officers to bring it to them,” creating a lucrative black market that some staff members are clearly exploiting.
Yet Demas’s letter contains no acknowledgment of these realities or any examination of how his fellow officers might be profiting from the very problem he claims administrators are ignoring.
Heroic Narratives vs. Professional Standards
Demas positions correctional officers as “unsung heroes” working with “some of the best humans on the planet.” While many officers undoubtedly serve with integrity, this romanticized portrayal shields the profession from necessary scrutiny. Real heroes take responsibility for their professional duties rather than deflecting blame upward when problems persist in their direct area of responsibility.
The tragic 2013 murder of Officer Eric Williams is mentioned to establish danger, but Demas provides no analysis of whether subsequent policy changes represent necessary safety measures or merely bureaucratic interference. This omission suggests he’s more interested in using the tragedy to support predetermined conclusions than in honestly examining what improvements might be needed.
The Human Cost of Institutional Dysfunction
The real victims of this accountability vacuum aren’t staff members like Demas, but inmates who suffer the consequences of both administrative failures and staff negligence. Consider the case of Marcellus Overton, an inmate with debilitating asthma who was forced to breathe wick smoke in his cell for two years because he lived adjacent to a smoker. The cells were connected by a vent system that carried the toxic smoke directly into Overton’s living space.
When Overton filed grievances about the air quality that was literally threatening his health, he faced staff retaliation rather than assistance. Most tellingly, he was denied proper healthcare for his smoke exposure—a clear violation of constitutional standards for medical care. The smoke pollution that Demas claims affects staff areas apparently doesn’t reach the correctional officers’ workspace, yet inmates like Overton are trapped in contaminated cells with no recourse.
This case perfectly illustrates how the accountability gap that Demas perpetuates has real human consequences. While he positions officers as victims of administrative indifference, actual victims like Overton face both environmental hazards and institutional retaliation for seeking help.
Demas describes feeling “elated” about the OIG audit and compares his opportunity to speak with auditors to “opening a gift on Christmas morning.” This enthusiasm reveals his primary motivation: using external oversight to validate pre-existing grievances rather than genuinely addressing institutional problems.
Notably, Demas provides no substantive details about audit findings, suggesting he’s exploiting the audit’s credibility to legitimize union positions rather than focusing on specific compliance issues. His description of administrative “doom and gloom” reads more like political theater than serious institutional assessment.
The OIG Audit as Political Theater
Perhaps the greatest tragedy in Demas’s letter is how it undermines legitimate concerns about prison safety and conditions. By wrapping union advocacy in the language of public safety, he makes it harder to distinguish between genuine institutional problems and labor-management disputes.
Real institutional reform requires honest examination of all stakeholders’ responsibilities, including staff performance, training adequacy, and professional standards. When union representatives reflexively blame administrators for problems that fall within their members’ direct professional duties, they contribute to the very accountability vacuum they claim to oppose.
Beyond Partisan Advocacy
The public deserves better than partisan advocacy disguised as institutional analysis. Genuine prison reform requires honest acknowledgment that:
- Staff have primary responsibility for enforcing rules within their direct control
- Persistent violations may indicate performance or integrity issues, not just administrative failures
- Professional accountability applies to all levels of the institution, including line staff
- Safety concerns must be separated from labor grievances to be addressed effectively
Conclusion
David Demas’s letter ultimately serves as a case study in how partisan advocacy can obscure rather than illuminate institutional problems. By systematically avoiding questions about staff accountability while positioning officers as victims of administrative incompetence, he does a disservice to the genuine reform efforts that federal prisons desperately need.
The American public invests significant resources in federal corrections and deerves transparency from all stakeholders—including union representatives who claim to speak for institutional integrity. Real accountability requires looking beyond convenient scapegoating to examine how all parties contribute to institutional success or failure.
Until union advocacy moves beyond reflexive blame-shifting to embrace comprehensive accountability, letters like Demas’s will continue to generate more heat than light in the crucial work of prison reform.
Sources:
Statement of Marcellus Overton, on file at LegistHelp.com
CIC USP Canaan Report on Findings and Recommendations (Jan. 5, 2023)
FBI reports: New details in CO Eric Williams’ murder, http://www.corrections1.com
Wikipedia, United States Penitentiary, Canaan
