Hundreds of popular food brands have a secret workforce of prisoners in the U.S.

An unlikely source, a former Southern slave plantation now a maximum-security prison, holds the key to America's dinner tables.

Prison-raised cattle are transported from the Louisiana State Penitentiary, where they are sentenced to hard labor, to an auction house, then to a Texas slaughterhouse that supplies giants like Tyson Foods and Cargill.

Prison labor links hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of agricultural products to goods sold on the open market, according to a two-year AP investigation into the intricate, invisible webs linking the world's largest food companies and popular brands to U.S. prisoners.

Some of America's most vulnerable workers face consequences such as jeopardizing their chances of parole or being sent to solitary confinement if they refuse to work. Additionally, they are often excluded from protections guaranteed to almost all other full-time workers, even when they are seriously injured or killed on the job.

The products made by prisoners are found in various American kitchens, including Frosted Flakes, Ball Park hot dogs, Gold Medal flour, and Riceland rice. These goods are sold in almost every supermarket in the country, including Walmart, Target, and Whole Foods. Additionally, some of these products are exported to countries that have been blocked from importing goods into the US due to forced or prison labor.

Prisons have been selling labor to companies, which violates their own policies against it. However, it is legal, as it dates back to the need for labor to rebuild the South after the Civil War. The Constitution's 13th Amendment prohibits slavery and involuntary servitude, except as punishment for a crime.

Efforts to remove similar language from state constitutions are expected to reach the ballot in about a dozen states this year, while the clause currently being challenged on the federal level.

In Louisiana, where the incarceration rate is among the highest in the country, men labor on the "farm line" and bend over crops that stretch far into the distance, just as slaves did more than 150 years ago on the same plantation soil.

During his 51 years in Angola, Willie Ingram gathered a variety of items, including cotton and okra.

He witnessed armed guards on horseback overseeing him in the fields, where men worked under extreme heat without much water. Some days, workers would protest by throwing their tools in the air, knowing the potential consequences.

Ingram, who was wrongfully convicted of a crime he didn't commit, received a life sentence. Despite pleading guilty, he was beaten, handcuffed, and beaten again. He was told he would serve 10 ½ years and avoid the death penalty, but it wasn't until 2021 that a sympathetic judge finally released him. By then, he was 73 years old.

The number of people incarcerated in the United States increased significantly in the 1970s, with a disproportionate impact on people of color. Today, with approximately 2 million people behind bars, U.S. prison labor has evolved into a multibillion-dollar industry, extending far beyond traditional images of prisoners performing tasks such as stamping license plates, working on road crews, or fighting wildfires.

Despite the fact that most states have farming programs, agriculture accounts for only a small portion of the prison workforce. However, a recent analysis of data from correctional facilities across the country revealed that nearly $200 million in sales of farmed goods and livestock were made to businesses over the past six years. This figure does not include the tens of millions of dollars in sales to state and government entities. Although much of the data provided was incomplete, it was clear that the largest revenues came from large-scale operations in the South and leasing out prisoners to companies.

Proponents of corrections officials argue that not all work in prisons is compulsory and that these jobs save taxpayers money. For instance, some food produced is served in prison kitchens or given to those in need outside. They also assert that workers acquire skills that can be utilized when they are released, providing them with a sense of purpose, which could help prevent repeat offenses. In some instances, it enables prisoners to reduce their sentences. Additionally, the jobs offer an opportunity to repay a debt to society, they claim.

Critics argue that while not all jobs should be abolished, incarcerated individuals should be compensated fairly, treated with respect, and given the option to work voluntarily. Some point out that even those with specialized training, such as firefighting, may face challenges in securing employment due to their criminal records.

Law professor Andrea Armstrong, an expert on prison labor at Loyola University New Orleans, stated that the prisoners are largely uncompensated, being forced to work, and it's unsafe. Additionally, they are not learning skills that will help them when they are released. This raises the question of why we still force people to work in the fields.

A shadow workforce with few protections

Companies can sometimes obtain tax credits and other financial incentives by utilizing a low-cost, dependable workforce. However, incarcerated workers are often not protected by basic labor laws, such as workers' compensation and federal safety regulations. Additionally, they often lack the ability to file formal grievances regarding poor working conditions.

Frequently, these inmates are employed in industries with acute labor shortages, performing some of the nation's filthiest and most hazardous tasks.

The AP examined numerous records and interviewed over 80 individuals, both current and former inmates, who had been convicted of various crimes, including murder, theft, and drug-related offenses. Some received lengthy sentences for nonviolent offenses due to prior convictions, while others were exonerated after proving their innocence.

The AP examined dozens of cases of workplace accidents and interviewed women who were sexually harassed or abused, sometimes by their civilian supervisors or correctional officers. While it is often difficult for those involved in workplace accidents to sue, the AP also spoke to family members of prisoners who were killed.

One of those was Frank Dwayne Ellington, who was sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole after stealing a man’s wallet at gunpoint due to Alabama’s habitual offenders act. In 2017, Ellington, 33, was working at Koch Foods, one of the country’s largest poultry-processing companies, when a machine caught his arm and sucked him inside, crushing his skull, resulting in an instant death.

Koch Foods initially argued that Ellington was not an employee and later claimed his family should be barred from filing for wrongful death because the company had paid his funeral expenses. The case was eventually settled under undisclosed terms. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration fined the company $19,500, stating that workers had not received proper training and that the company's machines lacked adequate safety guards.

Someone's child, someone's dad, someone's uncle, and someone's family," said Alishia Powell-Clark, Ellington's mother. "Yes, they made a mistake, but they are paying the consequences.

The AP discovered that U.S. prison labor is present in the global supply chains of goods being shipped worldwide through multinational corporations, including those that have been subject to import bans by the U.S. in recent years. For example, the U.S. has prohibited the import of cotton from China, a major producer of popular clothing brands, due to forced or prison labor. However, crops harvested by U.S. prisoners have entered the supply chains of companies that export to China.

Prison labor is being used by some companies through third-party suppliers, while others buy direct from prisons. Large commodity traders, such as Cargill, Bunge, Louis Dreyfus, Archer Daniels Midland, and Consolidated Grain and Barge, which have annual revenues of over $400 billion, have recently purchased millions of dollars' worth of soy, corn, and wheat directly from prisons, competing with local farmers.

The companies identified by the AP as having ties to prison labor were contacted for comment, but the majority did not respond.

Cargill admitted to purchasing goods from prison farms in Tennessee, Arkansas, and Ohio, stating that it represented a minor portion of their overall sales. The company is currently assessing the necessary corrective measures.

McDonald's, Archer Daniels Midland, and General Mills all have policies in place that prohibit the use of forced labor by their suppliers. Whole Foods Market flatly stated that they do not allow the use of prison labor in their products.

Bunge sold all facilities that were sourcing from correction departments in 2021, so they are no longer part of Bunge's operations.

The cooperative, Dairy Farmers of America, which claims to be the world's largest supplier of raw milk, stated that it currently has only one "member dairy" at a correctional facility, with most of the milk being utilized internally.

The AP gathered data from all 50 states through public records requests and inquiries to corrections departments to understand the business of prison labor and the movement of agricultural goods. Reporters also followed trucks transporting crops and livestock linked to prison work and trailed transport vans from prisons and work-release sites to places such as poultry plants, egg farms, and fast-food restaurants. However, a lack of transparency and, at times, baffling losses exposed in audits added to the challenges of fully tracking the money.

State prison farms in Texas, Virginia, Kentucky, and Montana have sold over $60 million in cattle since 2018, with profits reinvested in agriculture programs.

The sale of cows can be a complex process, with the ownership changing hands multiple times before the final destination is determined.

Sometimes there’s only one way to know for sure.

In Baton Rouge, an AP reporter observed three long trailers carrying over 80 cattle leaving the Louisiana state penitentiary and being unloaded for sale at Dominique's Livestock Market.

The cows had escaped from prison as they were pushed through a gate into a viewing pen, and the auctioneer joked, "Beware!"

In a matter of minutes, the Angola lot was quickly acquired by a local livestock dealer, who then sold the cattle to a Texas beef processor that also purchases cows directly from prisons in that state. The meat from the slaughterhouse eventually ends up in the supply chains of some of the country's largest fast-food chains, supermarkets, and meat exporters, including Burger King, Sam's Club, and Tyson Foods.

Jermaine Hudson, who was exonerated after serving 22 years at Angola for a robbery conviction, expressed his disappointment upon learning where the cattle were being taken.

Prison food tasted like slop, which he found especially galling.

"I have never had to endure such disrespectful meals in my entire life, as those were," Hudson stated.

The rise of prison labor

The "Alcatraz of the South," located in a remote bend of the Mississippi River, is a massive prison that covers 18,000 acres, which is larger than Manhattan's entire island. It is surrounded by crocodile-infested swamps and has its own unique ZIP code.

The former 19th-century antebellum plantation, which was once owned by one of the largest slave traders in the U.S., currently houses around 3,800 men behind razor-wire walls. About 65 percent of them are Black. Within days of arrival, they typically work in the fields, using hoes, shovels, or picking crops by hand. Initially, they work for free, but they can later earn between 2 cents and 40 cents an hour.

Anyone who refused to work, didn't produce enough, or just stepped outside the long straight rows would face consequences, according to Calvin Thomas, who spent more than 17 years at Angola.

If he shoots the gun in the air because you have crossed that line, it means you will be arrested and you will have to pay for the bullet he fired, according to Thomas. He also mentioned that some days were so hot that the guards' horses would collapse.

He stated that it could not be referred to by any other name, and it was simply slavery.

Louisiana corrections spokesman Ken Pastorick deemed the description "absurd." He explained that the phrase "sentenced with hard labor" is a legal term used to refer to a prisoner with a felony conviction.

Pastorick stated that the department has transformed Angola from "the bloodiest prison in America" through "large-scale criminal justice reforms and reinvestment into the creation of rehabilitation, vocational, and educational programs designed to help individuals better themselves and successfully return to communities." He pointed out that pay rates are determined by state statute.

In the past four months, both current and former prisoners in Louisiana and Alabama have filed class-action lawsuits alleging that they have been compelled to provide low-cost or no labor to these states and external companies, a practice they also characterized as slavery.

Since before emancipation, prisoners have been required to work, with slaves sometimes being imprisoned and then leased out by local authorities.

After the Civil War, the 13th Amendment's exception clause allowed for the imprisonment of thousands of mostly young Black men for minor offenses. These men were then leased out to plantations and companies for labor, where they were frequently whipped for not meeting quotas while performing dangerous and often fatal work.

The period of convict leasing, which ended in 1928, paved the way for the development of America's contemporary prison-industrial complex.

Incarceration was initially used for punishment or rehabilitation, but it was later discovered that it was being used for profit. A law was passed a few years later that made it illegal to knowingly transport or sell goods made by incarcerated workers across state lines, except for agricultural products. After years of lobbying by lawmakers and businesses, corporations are now partnering with corrections agencies to sell almost anything nationwide.

Prisoners, who are often not legally considered employees, are denied many of the basic rights and protections guaranteed to civilian workers by OSHA and laws like the Fair Labor Standards Act, and they cannot protest or form unions.

According to Jennifer Turner, the lead author of a 2022 American Civil Liberties Union report, although they may be performing the same work as individuals who are not incarcerated, they lack the necessary training, experience, and protective equipment.

The report stated that almost all of the country's state and federal adult prisons have work programs, with around 800,000 people employed. Most of these jobs are connected to tasks like maintaining prisons, laundry, or kitchen work, which typically pay a few cents an hour, if anything at all. A select few who obtain the highest-paying state industry jobs may earn only a dollar an hour.

In 2021, the ACLU reported that labor tied to goods and services produced through state prison industries generated more than $2 billion, encompassing a range of products from mattresses to solar panels. However, this figure does not include work-release and other programs run through local jails, detention and immigration centers, as well as drug and alcohol rehabilitation facilities.

Prisoners with a short time remaining on their sentences have been working in various places, including restaurants, retail stores, and meat-processing plants. Unlike those who clean up litter in orange jumpsuits, they are mostly unnoticed and wear uniforms similar to their civilian counterparts.

Prisoners may desire outside jobs because they often provide higher pay and some states contribute a portion of earnings towards their release savings. However, many companies offer minimum wage, while some states deduct more than half of their wages for expenses like housing and legal fees.

Prison farms in the South continue to be major operations, with crops still being harvested on many former slave plantations, including in Arkansas, Texas, and Mississippi's Parchman Farm. These states, along with Florida, Alabama, South Carolina, and Georgia, do not pay for most types of work.

In many big farms, including Angola, commercial-size tractors, trucks, and combines are used for corn, soy, rice, and other row crops. However, prisoners in certain locations still perform other tasks manually, such as clearing brush with swing blades.

Faye Jacobs, who worked on prison farms in Arkansas, recounted her experience of being in a field with a hoe in hand alongside about a hundred other women. We stood closely together in a line and had to lift our hoes simultaneously, counting "One, two, three, chop!" she explained.

In 2018, after more than 26 years in prison, Jacobs stated that the only compensation she received was two rolls of toilet paper per week, toothpaste, and a few menstrual pads each month.

She narrated the grueling task of carrying rocks from one end of a field to the other and back again for hours, and recounted the taunting she faced from guards who would say, "Come on, hos, it's hoe squad!" She also shared how she was later sent back to the fields at another prison after women there complained of sexual harassment by staff inside the facility.

She said, 'We were like, "Is this a punishment?"'

Arkansas' prison farms, managed by David Farabough, can help develop character.

These men come from homes where they've never experienced the concept of work or the satisfaction of a job well done. We're providing them with a sense of purpose. In return, they receive better food in their kitchens at the end of the day.

At least 650 correctional facilities across the country have prisoners working in jobs such as landscaping, tending greenhouses and gardens, raising livestock, beekeeping, and fish farming, according to Joshua Sbicca, director of the Prison Agriculture Lab at Colorado State University. He pointed out that corrections officials have the power to decide who gets trade-building jobs like welding and who works in the fields.

In many states, corrections departments have their own processing plants, dairies, and canneries, in addition to raising chickens, cows, and hogs. However, some states also hire out prisoners to perform the same work at large private companies.

In Mississippi, women who are required to pay off court-mandated expenses are incarcerated at restitution centers, where they work at fast-food chains like Popeyes Louisiana Kitchen and are also hired out for tasks such as lawn mowing and home repairs.

Cliff Johnson, director of the MacArthur Justice Center at the University of Mississippi, stated that the system of forced labor as punishment for poverty or substance abuse is not innovative or interesting.

In Alabama, where prisoners are leased out to companies, AP reporters trailed inmate transport vans to poultry plants owned by Tyson Foods, which produces brands such as Hillshire Farms, Jimmy Dean, and Sara Lee, as well as a company that supplies meat to McDonald's. The vans also stopped at a chicken processor that is part of a joint venture with Cargill, America's largest private company, which generated a record $177 billion in revenue in fiscal year 2023 and supplies conglomerates like PepsiCo.

Tyson stated that its work-release programs are voluntary and that incarcerated workers receive the same pay as their civilian counterparts, despite not addressing direct links to prison farms in response to questions.

In Alabama, some people who have been arrested are put to work even before they have been convicted. This unusual work-release program allows pre-trial defendants to earn bond money while avoiding jail. However, with multiple fees deducted from their salaries, it can take a long time for them to pay off their debt.

In 2012, Brevard County Sheriff Wayne Ivey implemented a new uniform and ankle shackle system for Florida chain gang members who go out on work details with the AP. Despite being unpaid, the work is highly popular and has resulted in a waitlist.

The inmate who is acquiring a skill set is benefiting both themselves and the taxpayers by making time go by faster.

One of the few places in the country where a chain gang is still in operation is noted by Ivey.

He argued that they should not be paid because they were compensating for breaking the law.

Several former prisoners have spoken positively about their work experiences, despite sometimes feeling exploited.

"I didn't consider the application of what I learned until I left, and then I realized how I had applied it in my current job," said William "Buck" Saunders, who obtained a forklift certification while in prison in Arizona.

During labor shortages resulting from immigration restrictions and the pandemic, companies that hire prisoners can depend on a large, dependable workforce.

In March 2020, while all other outside company jobs were paused, the Arizona corrections department suddenly transferred approximately 140 women from their prison to a metal warehouse on Hickman's Family Farms' property, which claims to be the Southwest's largest egg producer.

For nearly three decades, Hickman's has utilized prisoners as their workforce and supplied numerous grocery stores, including Costco and Kroger, with brands such as Eggland's Best and Land O' Lakes. As the largest labor contractor for the state corrections department, they have generated nearly $35 million in revenue during the past six fiscal years.

Brooke Counts, who resided at Hickman's desert site for 14 months, stated that the only reason she and others were stationed there was to prevent the loss of the contract because the prison generates substantial revenue from it. She was incarcerated for a drug-related offense and was concerned about losing privileges or being transferred to a more secure prison yard if she refused to work.

She claimed to have knowledge of prisoners who sustained severe injuries, such as a woman who was impaled in the groin and needed a helicopter ride to the hospital and another who lost a finger.

Despite facing multiple lawsuits over inmate injuries, Hickman's did not respond to emailed questions or phone messages seeking a response. Officials from the corrections department declined to comment on why the women were relocated off-site, stating that it occurred under a previous administration. However, a statement issued at the time explained that the move was necessary to maintain a stable food supply while also safeguarding public health and the well-being of those in custody.

Despite living in a makeshift dormitory, some women working for Hickman's earned less than $3 an hour after deductions, with 30 percent of their wages taken by the state for room and board.

"We were still paying the prison rent while we were out there," Counts questioned.

Following the money

The intricacy of the prison labor industry makes it difficult to track the flow of funds. Agricultural programs in some states often result in financial losses, leading to audits and investigations into possible corruption, mismanagement, or inefficiencies.

In Texas, nearly half of the agricultural goods produced between 2014 and 2018 incurred financial losses, while in Louisiana, a similar report revealed losses of approximately $3.8 million between fiscal years 2016 and 2018. Additionally, a federal investigation into corruption at the for-profit arm of Louisiana's correctional department resulted in the imprisonment of two employees.

Officials in the correctional sector assert that high farming expenses and unforeseeable factors such as weather can erode profits. However, they point out that some products may underperform, while others may thrive.

At times, prisons have generated revenue by tapping into niche markets or selling their states' signature foods.

Over a six-year period, the AP investigated the distribution of surplus raw milk from a Wisconsin prison dairy to BelGioioso Cheese, which produces Polly-O string cheese and other products sold in grocery stores nationwide, including Whole Foods. Additionally, a California prison provided almonds to Minturn Nut Company, a major producer and exporter. Until 2022, Colorado was raising water buffalo for milk that was sold to Leprino Foods, a giant mozzarella cheesemaker that supplies major pizza companies like Domino's, Pizza Hut, and .

Work-release programs have become the biggest cash generators for many states, with low overhead costs. In Alabama, the state earned over $32 million in the past five fiscal years by garnishing 40 percent of prisoners' wages.

Work-release programs are managed by sheriffs in some states, and while they are generally well-regarded, instances of abuse have been reported.

In Louisiana, sheriffs receive between $10 and $20 per day for housing state prisoners in local jails as part of a work release program. Additionally, they can deduct more than half of the wages earned by prisoners who are contracted out to companies, providing a significant revenue stream for small counties.

In 2021, Jack Strain, a former longtime sheriff in St. Tammany Parish, pleaded guilty to a scheme involving the privatization of a work-release program. Nearly $1.4 million was taken in and steered to Strain, his close associates, and family members. He was sentenced to 10 years in prison, which came on top of four consecutive life sentences for a broader sex scandal linked to that same program.

Prisoners have been contracted by companies that partner with prisons. In Idaho, they sorted and packed potatoes, which are exported and sold nationwide. In Kansas, they were employed at Russell Stover chocolates and Cal-Maine Foods, the country's largest egg producer. Though the company has since stopped using them, in recent years they were hired in Arizona by Taylor Farms, which sells salad kits in major grocery stores nationwide and supplies popular fast-food chains and restaurants like McDonald's.

Some states withhold the names of companies involved in transitional prison work programs due to security concerns. AP reporters, however, were able to confirm the private employers of some prisoners through ground-level officials and followed inmate transport vehicles to various locations, including meat-processing plants and a chicken and daiquiri restaurant.

A tourist was drawn to the meticulously maintained grounds of a former slave plantation that has since become a renowned hotel and tourist attraction in St. Francisville, Louisiana, where couples often take wedding photos beneath ancient live oaks adorned with Spanish moss.

A West Feliciana Parish van marked "Sheriff Transitional Work Program" arrived, and two Black men exited, stating that they were there to wash dishes before being called back inside by their boss.

The antebellum home known as the Myrtles is located 20 miles away from the fields where men labor in Angola.

Curtis Davis, who spent more than 25 years at the penitentiary and is now fighting to change state laws that allow for forced labor in prisons, stated that slavery has not been abolished.

He stated that it is still functioning and nothing has altered.