Sean Steele writes about wildfire smoke that filled an Ohio prison without air conditioning, leaving incarcerated people trapped in dangerous heat and smoke.

The smoke rolled onto the prison yard like a biker gang. Several of us looked out the window as we waited for breakfast. Some thought it was clouds. Others thought it was fog. But it was neither. Hot clunks of smoke had traveled from Canada into Marion, Ohio, and it came to attack our lungs.

It wasn’t long before the wildfire smoke broke into our housing units. By the time we returned from breakfast, the smoke had already entered the building. Those like myself with breathing conditions such as asthma were the first to feel the effects.

“I can’t breathe,” Cheddar said as he sat on his bunk.

“Me neither,” I responded. My chest had tightened and dizziness had set in.

All the windows to the housing unit were open. They couldn’t be shut due to the heat. And the housing units didn’t have any air conditioning. Under such conditions, we had no choice but to breathe in the smoke.

Inside the housing unit, we could see clouds of smoke in the air. A fuzzy, hazy mist-like presence hung in the air. Fans swirled, but to no effect. It just passed the smoke around.

At some point, I realized each of us were simply locked inside large ovens. The housing units at North Central are built like warehouses. Ten large sheds designed with tin roofs and concrete walls encased us. And over 200 humans live inside each large cage. The windows are metal with black metal bars and black metal mesh. They can us in like sardines. And correctional officers keep the door locked. The only thing we do is bake in the heat and smoke. It feels like being on a grill.

Some of us complain. We write complaints. And when we see prison officials, we ask for answers. But they ignore us.

“There’s nothing we can do,” was the common response.

I keep my inhaler in my pocket. And I monitor my breathing. I know from experience the only emergency the prison responds to is unconsciousness. So the only way I will get help is if I pass out. The idea of waiting for that is chilling. But I bear it.

In my complaint, I ask for air conditioning and ice packs. And I let them know we need air purifiers. Something tells me they will ignore this too. But I must try. The health of over 2,000 incarcerated people hangs in the balance.

The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) had both issued advice on how we could protect ourselves from smoke-related heat risks:

• reduce exposure
• stay indoors with windows and doors closed
• run a portable air purifier
• wear an N95 mask

But none of these options are available. No air conditioners. No air purifiers. An N95 mask? In our wildest dreams. Reducing our exposure to the wildfire smoke is impossible.

Yet, we remain strong. Resilient. Hopeful. Maybe prison officials will grow a heart and help us cool during these hot months. Maybe my complaints will be granted and the business office will buy the air purifiers and air conditioners.

But after all these years, I wonder why the prison didn’t have these things already. This wasn’t the first summer ever. This wasn’t the first Canadian wildfire to roll through this town. The same thing happened last year. I guess, I must assume, until they start to care, we’ll bake and grill under the heat and smoke. We’ll continue to be breathless and caged.