Stopping Vermont’s $97 Million Mistake
In October 2022, a small group of Vermont prison abolitionists came together with a clear purpose: to stop the Department of Corrections from spending tens of millions to build a new women’s prison. What began as a $70 million proposal has ballooned to $97 million, and now, thanks in part to their work, outgoing DOC Commissioner Nick Deml has admitted the project is “at an impasse.”
For anyone committed to justice, fiscal responsibility, and responsive government, this is good news.
The National Council's FreeHer Vermont organizers have been advocating against new prison construction for three years. However, their campaign in Essex is relatively recent, dating back only to the past year, as they only learned last August that the DOC had targeted that site. Since then, they’ve focused sharply on one crucial fact: the Essex site isn’t zoned for a prison. No zoning change, no prison. It’s that simple.
Over the past year, FreeHer Vermont has been holding the line in Essex, knocking on doors, hosting community webinars, phone banking, and attending local meetings to ensure residents understand what’s being planned in their backyard. They organized a letter opposing the prison, signed by more than 40 local organizations. Meanwhile, DOC officials have worked largely behind closed doors, holding “stakeholder meetings” that conveniently exclude much of the actual community.
“Eight out of ten people don’t know about the prison project,” it seems to Jayna Ahsaf, campaign director with FreeHer VT. “It feels good to connect and let them know, but it speaks to a lack of transparency.”
And Essex is just one front in a broader movement. Beyond site-specific organizing, FreeHer Vermont has been pushing back against the very notion that Vermont needs a new prison at all, through rallies, legislative testimony, public education campaigns, and coalitions that unite formerly incarcerated women with everyday residents. The Essex fight is part of that larger struggle to shift how Vermonters think about safety, accountability, and community well-being.
Importantly, FreeHer isn’t just showing up; they’re shifting the conversation. Too often, debates over new prisons revolve around how to design more “humane” or “trauma-informed” facilities. Those words sound good, but they skirt the fundamental truth: prisons are inherently dehumanizing. The real question isn’t how to build a better prison, it’s whether to build one at all.
Vermont likes to brand itself as a state that values community. If that’s true, we should be investing in communities, not in locking them away. Consider the alternatives for that $97 million. Vermont needs $600 million for flood mitigation and $6.3 billion for school infrastructure, and it has the second-highest rate of homelessness per capita in the nation. Prisons won’t fix those problems. They will exacerbate the situation by diverting resources that could address the root causes of instability and harm.
And here is the kicker; Vermont wants to spend nearly $100 million to build a prison for just over 100 women. On any given day, the women’s population has hovered around 120 in recent years, already a low number compared to the scale of investment being proposed. That number has spiked closer to 160, not because of crime trends, but because of immigration enforcement. ICE detainees are quietly inflating the numbers, and if new prison beds are built, they will be filled by Vermonters or by migrants.
Look more closely at who those women are. Ninety-five percent are survivors of domestic or sexual violence. Many are held pretrial, not because they’ve been convicted. Nearly two-thirds struggle with substance use disorders, and most others are on the mental health caseload. Only three women in the state are serving life sentences. Only a handful face release dates more than five years away. In reality, if the Essex prison were built, only a dozen or so of the women currently incarcerated would still be there to see its doors open.
That raises the obvious question: Why build at all? Suppose Vermont truly cares about justice and safety. In that case, it should be finding ways to release the women who should not be locked up and invest instead in the services, housing, treatment, healthcare, and community support that reduce harm.
The fight isn’t over. The Essex Planning Commission still needs to make a recommendation to the Select Board, which has final say. But this moment matters. Without the persistence of FreeHer Vermont, without their willingness to be the “squeaky wheel”, the bulldozers might already be on site.
“It’s been beautiful to witness formerly incarcerated women reclaim their power and speak truth to power,” says Ahsaf. “And it’s been a joy to watch everyday community members step up and take leadership.”
In a political climate that rewards quick wins and photo ops, this kind of sustained, unglamorous organizing is easy to overlook. But right now, it’s paying off. The prison is at an impasse. The challenge ahead is making sure it stays there, and that those millions are invested where they can actually make Vermont safer, stronger, and more just.
Disclaimer
This blog serves as a platform for members of The National Council for Incarcerated and Formerly Incarcerated Women and Girls (TNC) to share their thoughts, ideas, work, experiences, and creative expression. Occasionally, third-party content is also shared on this platform. The views and opinions expressed in individual submissions and third-party pieces are those of the contributing authors and do not necessarily reflect the official opinions, policies, positions, or perspectives of The National Council, its leadership, members, or partners.
We believe that every voice deserves to be heard. This space uplifts the diverse lived experiences of our community and honors the right of each person to speak their truth. While contributions may vary in perspective, together they reflect the power of collective storytelling and the urgent need for change.
