OurTupelo

STARKVILLE — This should be a column about how OIe Miss quarterback Trinidad Chambliss, the best story in college football this season, threw for 359 yards and four touchdowns and played error-less football to lead the Rebels to a 38-19 Egg Bowl victory.

It should be a column about how Ole Miss completed an 11-victory regular season, the first in Mississippi NCAA Division I history.

It should be a column about how Kewan Lacy ran around through Mississippi State for 143 yards and a touchdown and continues to give Ole Miss the ground game the Rebels lacked last season. Lacy might be the biggest reason why the Rebels will go to the FBS playoffs this year instead of falling just short as they did last year.

This could also be a column about how the future of Mississippi State football, whose name is Kemario Taylor and who raced for 173 yards and two scores and threw for another 178 yards in a losing cause. Taylor is a tall, sleek, ridiculously talented freshman you can build a program around, as 60,000 or so fans could attest on a sunny, brisk Friday afternoon at historic Scott Field..

But none of that is the focus of this column, and you knew it wouldn’t be. Lane Kiffin and his immediate future sucked the air out of all the rest of the storylines. Kiffin was the reason why several national sports reporters found their ways to Starkville on Friday. He’s the reason why so many Ole Miss fans will have their nerves wracked for at least one more day.

And, no, Kiffin had no definitive answers Friday. No, he said, he hasn’t made a decision. Yes, he allowed, he will have a decision sometime Saturday. “I feel like I’ve got to,” he said.

“It is not as enjoyable as people think it is,” Kiffin said of the decision-making process.

For those who have been completely out of touch, Kiffin is weighing offers from LSU and Florida against remaining at Ole Miss. To coach his Rebels in the playoffs, he would have to turn down the other suitors.

“I’ve got some praying to do to figure this thing out,” Kiffin said. ”I’m living one day at a time. I know that doesn’t help you, but it helps me.”

Kiffin said he had no idea when an announcement on his future will come Saturday. “If’s a fair question, but I really don’t know. It’s not my call,” he said.

Kiffin said he planned to go watch his son, Knox Kiffin, quarterback the Oxford Chargers in their playoff game Friday night at Tupelo.

“I’m gonna go be a dad,” he said.

Above all else, Kiffin seemed hellbent on making it clear that he was never worried about how his players would respond to all the noise about his future.

“I know the storyline about the distractions,” Kiffin said. “But we build our team different. What you may think is distracting, I don’t think is. We teach our players to focus on what they control and to block out the rest. If anything, all that distraction bonds them together to stay focused.”

Perhaps, but that doesn’t explain the Rebel collapse in 2022 when Auburn was the well-publicized Kiffin suitor and the distracted Rebels lost four of their last five games.

As for the decision he faces now, Kiffin is clearly anguished. This comes from a sports writer not a mind reader, but Kiffin really did appear to be struggling with the decision post-game. That was especially apparent when he was asked about people he could reach out to for advice and when he appeared to become emotional. He mentioned Nick Saban and Pete Carroll.

“Obviously, my dad,” Kiffin said, pausing to gather himself. “I’ve really missed him this week.”

Monte Kiffin died 16 months ago.

So what will Lane Kiffin do? Hell if I know. I think, given his track record, he won’t make the call until he has to. Apparently, he has pretty much ruled out Florida and it the decision is between staying at Ole Miss or leaving for the Rebels’ bitter rival LSU.

My guess?

My guess is that Lane Kiffin really wants in his heart of hearts to take the LSU job. But then, I don’t see how any coach could lead his team to 50 victories over five seasons, lead his team to the playoffs for the national championship – and then say good-bye to them before the first playoff game is played.

Lane Kiffin might do that, but I’ll believe it only when it happens.

Editor’s note: This essay is part of Mississippi Today Ideas, a platform for thoughtful Mississippians to share fact-based ideas about our state’s past, present and future. You can read more about the section here.

A few weeks ago in a conversation with a Mississippi legislator, I, as superintendent of the Oxford School District, was challenged to stop simply pushing back on school choice proposals and instead offer solutions.

The question was fair: If not school choice, then what? That challenge stayed with me, because I believe we can’t just oppose ideas. We must offer better ones. The truth is, there are smarter, more impactful choices we can make in education – choices that would transform Mississippi’s future without dismantling the public school system that serves the vast majority of our children.

As Mississippi continues to debate school choice, it’s time we ask a deeper question: What kind of choice actually creates opportunity for our children and moves our state forward?

For years, the conversation around education reform in Mississippi has centered on competition – where students go to school and which school gets the funding. But real improvement doesn’t come from competition. It comes from collaboration, consistency and a shared vision of success.

The truth is, Mississippi doesn’t need more schools to choose from. Instead, it needs more opportunities within the schools it already has.

Mississippi currently ranks among the lowest in the nation in labor-force participation, with barely half of working-age adults engaged in the workforce. It’s not that we lack jobs. It’s that too many Mississippians finish high school or even college without a clear path into meaningful work. As a result, we struggle to retain our own talent, fill high-wage jobs and sustain economic growth. 

If we want to strengthen our economy and our communities, we need to redefine what “choice” means. True educational choice shouldn’t be about choosing between public and private schools. It should be about creating more high-quality pathways within public education –  from the earliest years of a child’s life through the transition into adulthood. Instead of dividing our resources, let’s align them by investing in the full continuum of learning that starts in preschool and ends with a productive career.

The first and most transformative choice Mississippi can make is to invest in early childhood education for all families. Research consistently shows that the earliest years of life are the most critical for brain development.

During this time, children form the language, social and problem-solving skills that determine how they learn for the rest of their lives.

Yet in our state, access to high-quality early learning remains deeply unequal. Some communities are fortunate to have public or private preschool options, while others have long waiting lists or no programs at all. Many parents simply cannot afford tuition, leaving too many children behind before they even begin kindergarten. 

When children start school already behind, it can take years to close that gap. Many never do. We see this in literacy rates, in third-grade reading outcomes and later in high school graduation data. The gaps that emerge early in life become barriers to achievement, employment and self-sufficiency. The good news is that these gaps are preventable with a bold, statewide commitment to early learning. 

Universal access to early childhood education would be a game-changer for Mississippi. Children who attend strong preschool programs are more likely to read proficiently by third grade, graduate from high school and attend college or technical programs. They are also less likely to need special education services or repeat grades. The benefits ripple outward: Families gain stability, parents are more able to participate in the  workforce and communities thrive. 

High-quality early learning doesn’t just shape individual children. It strengthens the entire economy. When parents can rely on safe, affordable childcare, workforce participation increases. Businesses benefit from a more reliable labor supply.

Over time, the return on investment is remarkable. For every dollar spent on early childhood education, economists estimate a return of seven to 10 dollars in reduced costs for remediation, welfare and incarceration, and increased earnings and tax revenue. 

Imagine what it would mean for Mississippi if every 3- and 4-year-old had access to a strong early learning environment – one that emphasizes language development, curiosity and relationships with caring adults. Imagine what it would mean if every parent could go to work knowing their child was learning in a safe, enriching setting. Imagine what it would mean if kindergarten teachers welcomed classes of students who were all ready to learn, not already behind. 

The states that lead the nation in education and workforce development have already made this investment. It’s time Mississippi does the same. If we truly want to transform our schools. our economy and our future, it must start with the youngest learners.

The second critical choice Mississippi must make is to build a modern system of educational pathways that extend from high school into college, career and beyond. 

Around the world, countries that have aligned education and workforce systems are preparing students not only to graduate, but to thrive.

In one nation, nearly two-thirds of students participate in paid apprenticeships that blend classroom learning with real world experience. In another, students begin exploring careers in middle school and progress through flexible learning tracks that connect seamlessly to college or technical training. In a third, every student graduates with credentials recognized by both employers and universities, ensuring that no one’s future is limited by a single choice at age 16 or 18. 

These systems treat education as a shared responsibility between schools, employers and government. They prioritize flexibility, allowing students to shift between academic and applied learning. And they value all forms of success equally – whether a student earns a university degree, completes an apprenticeship or starts a business. 

Mississippi can design its own version of this model. Imagine a state where every student has access to three respected pathways: 

• A college-ready pathway for those pursuing four-year degrees. 

• An applied-learning pathway that combines academics with paid, hands-on work experiences leading to a certification or associate degree. 

• A direct-to-career pathway that connects students to high-wage industries like health care, advanced manufacturing or information technology. 

Each of these routes would be flexible and interconnected, allowing students to move between them as their goals evolve. Every pathway would be designed in partnership with local employers to ensure students graduate with both knowledge and experience. And every pathway would be valued equally with no stigma and no hierarchy – just options that recognize that success comes in many forms. 

This approach is already working in parts of Mississippi. Districts that have developed strong career academies or early college programs are seeing higher graduation rates, better attendance and stronger engagement. Scaling this across the state would require a coordinated effort among K-12 districts, community colleges, universities and industry, but it’s possible. In fact, it’s essential.

Both of these investments – early childhood education and career pathways – represent the smarter kind of school choice Mississippi needs. They focus not on competition but on capacity. They don’t pit schools against each other. They unite them around the shared goals of preparing every child to contribute to their community and reach their full potential. 

If Mississippi is serious about improving its economy, reducing poverty and retaining  homegrown talent, these are the choices that matter most.

Let’s choose to invest early, ensuring every child begins school ready to learn. Let’s choose to build pathways that prepare every graduate for college, career and life. Let’s choose collaboration over  competition, opportunity over ideology and a future where every Mississippi child has a path to success from cradle to career. 

That’s the kind of “school choice” worth fighting for – one that truly changes lives.

Bio:  Bradley Roberson has served as the superintendent of the Oxford School District since 2021. Before then, he served in the district in various capacities, including teacher, coach and principal. Roberson was a finalist for the National Superintendent of the Year honor. 

Hinds County voters will head to the polls again Tuesday to choose their coroner. 

No coroner candidate crossed the 50% vote threshold to avoid a runoff. Jeramiah Howard, the current interim coroner, came close at 41% of the vote. He and Stephanie Meachum, who received 16.7% of the vote, are vying for the position. 

The winner will complete the term of Sharon Grisham-Stewart, who served as county coroner from January 1999 until December 2024. She still had a year left in her term.

In Grisham-Stewart’s final years as coroner, her office along with Jackson Police Department were scrutinized for not adequately notifying families of missing persons about their loved one’s burials at the county pauper field.

Howard and Meachum previously worked in the Hinds County Coroner’s Office under Grisham-Stewart’s leadership. She endorsed and campaigned for Howard.

The Hinds County Board of Supervisors appointed Howard as the acting coroner in January. He served as chief deputy coroner under Grisham-Stewart for five years. He also served as chief of the Pocahontas Volunteer Fire Department for 10 years.

Meachum served as office manager responsible for budgets and agency records for the coroner’s office from 2011 to 2016. She has led the death division at the state Department of Health’s vital statistics office since 2016.

On Election Day, Howard won nearly every precinct from Utica to Jackson, only losing roughly 10 precincts out of 108. He won by his widest margins in Pocahontas and other northwestern precincts located in the county. Meachum performed best in central Jackson. 

Only 12.75% of 165,069 voters turned out for Election Day in Hinds County.

Howard has signs in most precincts in the county, in front of private homes and off interstates and highways. Some went up as early as July. He estimates that his team has placed 30 big signs, 100 medium signs and over 600 yard signs across the county.

“It was a team effort,” he said. “I feel blessed to have this much support across the county.”

He also wanted to thank his nearly thirty volunteers.

“Running for office is a noble deed,” he said. “My fellow candidates ran good races and deserve credit for putting their name on the ballot and reaching people in the community.”

Meachum has been her own campaign manager since she first filed. Her team sometimes included a few friends and family. Since the runoff announcement, she has received calls from potential volunteers.

“I feel inspired to reach more voters,” she said in an interview with Mississippi Today on Oct. 5. “Some are still unsure of what the coroner does, and I’m hoping to reach them.”

COLUMBIA, Mo. — Flocks arrived by the dozens in the dark before sunrise. Some travelled in groups. Others flew solo. They all wanted to land in a wetland, but these specimens needed to wait for the Missouri Department of Conservation to get all their ducks in a row. The MDC and a small bingo cage would decide who got a spot.

No, this was not a crowd of mallards. It was hunters waiting for a shot at migrating waterfowl. 

Throughout the state, duck hunting is permitted at 14 public wetlands but daily reservations are required. Half the spots get awarded through an online lottery before and during the season. The rest are for the “poor line.” Historically, this queue is for people who don’t have access to private land or didn’t score a public reservation.

On a November morning 30 hunters were at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area near Columbia, Missouri. 

“You get up at four in the morning for a chance to get a spot at one of Missouri’s conservation areas,” Jake Rice said.

There were nine spots available for the drawing. An MDC biologist spun the cage for the hunters, who each got a ball. The lower the number, the better the odds.

The cradle of migrating waterfowl in North America

Eagle Bluffs is located in an alluvial plain of the Missouri River, and over 280 migratory bird species visit the 4,429-acre area each year.

As MDC’s resource supervisor for the region, John George said one of the main goals of the conservation area is to provide birds with a place where they can rest and find food – small acorns from oak trees, seeds, insects and even crops like rice, soybeans, and corn – for the long journey. “They can’t just fly the whole length of the Missouri and hope that they find something at the other end,” George said.

The Missouri is one of the major rivers, along with the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, that flow along a key route for migratory birds. Known as the Mississippi Flyway, about half of all North American species utilize the corridor to get from as far as Canada all the way down to Central and South America, and then back. 

“The Mississippi Flyway is definitely the cradle of migrating waterfowl in North America,” said Jared Mott, who grew up hunting in the state of Mississippi and now serves as conservation director of the Isaak Walton League of America, a national conservation organization.

The region is ideal for duck hunters, too. For the 2024 season, there were an estimated 1.3 million active duck and geese hunters throughout the United States, according to a U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service report from August. Of that number, about 40 percent of the U.S. total were in the Mississippi Flyway, which includes 14 states from Minnesota to Louisiana. All together, they harvested approximately 6.4 million ducks and 1.4 million geese.

“It’s got the most ducks, it’s got the most hunters,” Mott said. “When it comes to waterfowl, you just about can’t overstate the importance of wetlands and the habitat that they provide.”

Waterfowl need the habitat not just for migrating south in the winter but also as their breeding grounds in the Prairie Pothole region — which consists of states like Minnesota, South Dakota, North Dakota, and Minnesota. It’s nicknamed the “Duck Factory” because it produces millions of birds each year. 

The success of duck populations – and hunting – is largely dependent on habitat quality and quantity. Both are at risk. Mississippi has 24 wildlife management areas throughout the state that are managed for waterfowl.

More than 130,000 acres of wetlands in the Mississippi River Basin were lost between 2009 and 2019, according to a 2024 report from the USFWS. This has largely been caused by drainage and fill from farming over the past century, along with modern land development and climate change.

In Mississippi, between 1930 and 1973 approximately 8, 170 acres of coastal marshes were filled for industrial and residential uses, according to a  1999 Mississippi’s Coastal Wetlands report from the Mississippi Department of Marine Resources Coastal Preserves Program. 

While many migrating waterfowl have access to state and federally managed wetlands, they also depend on private land throughout the U.S. Yet, in late November, the Environmental Protection Agency announced new guidelines redefining which streams and wetlands qualify for federal regulations under the Clean Water Act. 

The proposal was praised by EPA administrator Lee Zeldin and some agriculture groups, but environmental groups have already raised concerns about the potential impact on the Mississippi River basin’s wetlands. 

“It’s not pretty,” Mott said. 

The rule is open to public comments until January 5, 2026.

The first conservationists in America

Historically, duck hunters played a crucial role in conservation throughout the U.S. They were among some of the first to advocate for the protection for all migratory birds, not just waterfowl, which resulted in the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918.

Today, duck hunters pay into conservation by purchasing state and federal hunting permits. That includes the Federal Duck Stamp, which has raised more than $1 billion to protect approximately 6 million acres of wetlands since 1934. It’s also a popular art contest with hundreds of entries each year. 

“Without those duck hunters, there’d be a lot less habitat out there for waterfowl,” said Jake Spears, the region biologist in Arkansas for Ducks Unlimited, a nonprofit for waterfowl and habitat conservation.

A federal tax on the sale of handguns, as well as other firearms and ammunition, generates funding for wildlife restoration each year — approximately $989 million for fiscal year 2024. Additionally, every state has its own way of sourcing conservation funding. For example, in Missouri,  0.125% of the state’s 4.225% sales tax collects funds for state conservation programs.

Eagle Bluffs, where the hunters waited in the poor line for a chance to shoot a duck, is just one example of what that money can do. It’s a restored wetland constructed in the 1990s to fight the loss of nearly 90 percent of Missouri’s wetlands due to agriculture and development. By recycling waste water from a nearby treatment facility, along with river pumps, the area’s wetlands have returned as 17 shallow pools. 

It’s not just duck hunters who benefit from wetland conservation. Tim Eisele, in Madison, is both a duck hunter and one of 96 million bird watching hobbyists in the U.S. 

“I happen to hunt the Mississippi River in the western edge of Wisconsin, and to me, that’s God’s country,” said Eisele. “Just being over there and watching birds move around in the morning or evening.”

“Were it not for the waterfowl hunter that wanted to go out in the marsh with his dog and his shotgun and try to shoot a couple of ducks, we would not have those habitats there available to every Missouri resident,” said Garrett Trentham, the head of the southern region’s events team for Delta Waterfowl, a nonprofit conservation organization.

It’s not even about killing ducks

By five in the morning, most of the hunters in the poor line had left. Those with a spot for the day were probably throwing out their duck decoys. The unlucky likely retreated to their beds. But Jack Honey and a friend remained — despite drawing the second-highest number with ball 16. 

“I’m glad they do this,” Honey said. “Even though you won’t get to hunt one day, but it’s for the benefit of the entire waterfowl.”

Like all good hunters, though, Honey waited patiently. And it paid off with the final spot: a blue hole called Buck Pool. Not the most desirable location to shoot ducks, Honey said, but “you can’t kill ‘em on the couch.”

The pair headed out to a flooded grain field with their waders and shotguns. They waited eagerly for the legal shooting light. All around them, the sounds of geese, coots, green-winged teals, mallards, gadwalls, and even songbirds signalled a new day. 

After a morning hunting, they went home empty-handed, but to Honey, it wasn’t even about killing ducks. 

It was about seeing how nature works. “Seeing how God presented it,” he said. 

This story is a product of the Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk, an independent reporting network based at the University of Missouri in partnership with Report for America, with major funding from the Walton Family Foundation.

Mississippi Today contributed to this report.

Jason Reid’s day starts at 5 a.m.

He rolls out of bed, lets his dog out and drinks his first cup of coffee. After making sure his kids’ water bottles are full, Reid walks to nearby Lewisburg Elementary School. In the crisp air and dark morning, he starts a school bus, waiting for it to warm up.

Reid, a physical education teacher in DeSoto County School District, has been teaching for 17 years. But in 2019, he also started moonlighting as a bus driver to earn extra money.

This is a reality for educators in Mississippi, which has the nation’s lowest teacher pay. 

According to the National Education Association, the average teacher salary in Mississippi is $53,704. That’s $15,000 less than what the Economic Policy Institute says is needed to comfortably support a single parent, one child household in the Jackson metro area, which is $68,772. In DeSoto County, where Reid lives, that cost is even higher — $76,612 a year.

Even though some districts pay teachers more than the state minimum, without a spouse making higher pay, some educators say they have to keep second jobs and cut corners to make ends meet. 

Some promising young teachers — and even others with years of experience — are considering moving to other states where they are better compensated. 

Mississippi is up against a critical teacher shortage. Nearly 3,000 teacher jobs are vacant across the state, according to a 2024 survey conducted by the Mississippi Department of Education. Educators say the biggest contributing factor to those vacancies is low pay, according to the Mississippi Professional Educators’ annual survey.

Teacher vacancies mean bigger classrooms and less individualized time, which deeply impact student learning. Research shows that higher pay attracts quality teachers and incentivizes them to stay. 

On the heels of nationally recognized academic achievement in the state’s public schools, teachers say they deserve more. 

And legislators say they’re listening. The issue will likely be a hot topic during the 2026 legislative session. State leaders, such as Lt. Gov. Delbert Hosemann, have indicated they’ll focus on raising teacher pay next year, and the Senate Education Committee met about the topic in October. House Speaker Jason White said this summer that his chamber will likely include all of its education policy, including school choice measures, in an omnibus bill next session.

Educators fear their salaries will get tied up in the controversial legislation.

“Teachers should not be held hostage and used as political pawns in order to gain support for another policy issue,” said Kelly Riley, executive director of Mississippi Professional Educators. “It appears to be another sign of disrespect for our educators and teaching profession as a whole.”

Legislators passed the last meaningful teacher pay raise in 2022, a historic increase of $5,140 on average per year. But teachers say that raise was almost immediately rendered null by health insurance premium increases and inflation.

And the retirement benefits that previously kept educators in the profession were changed earlier this year, when state legislators overhauled the public employee retirement system. Teachers who start after March 1, 2026, will receive fewer benefits than their peers. 

It’s a bleak outlook that young educators, such as second-year teacher Vivienne Diaz in Jackson, have to reckon with.

“I would like to stay in Mississippi, but after I finish my master’s degree, the amount of money I’d be making as a teacher …  after all these hours of work,” she said, “it’s just not worth it.”

‘A double kick to public school teachers’

Princess Thompson can smile about it now, but she remembers feeling shocked when she received her first paycheck 20 years ago. Her annual $24,000 salary translated to $1,300 a month.

“I asked my principal, ‘Is everything OK?’” said Thompson, who teaches music at an elementary school in Madison. “Me and another first-year teacher were like, ‘What happened here?’ Our principal laughed.”

Now, two decades into her career, her pay is better. But teaching has also gotten harder. Kids are entering kindergarten with learning difficulties that should have been addressed in preschool. She said that this generation of children, raised around screens, is difficult to keep engaged.

On the Gulf Coast, Carrie Bartlett’s older students are also easily distracted, and she reports more behavior issues in recent years. Without commensurate pay, it’s increasingly frustrating to deal with, she said.

Bartlett has been teaching social studies at Long Beach High School for 15 years, and her husband teaches at Long Beach Middle School. With a daughter in her sophomore year of high school and a son in college, their finances are tight.

When Bartlett and her colleagues commiserate, they echo the same sentiments about the job — they love being educators, but they wish they were getting compensated as professionals.

“I think that teaching is an important job, and it’s rewarding intrinsically,” Bartlett said. “I just wish it was more extrinsically rewarding and that the state had higher appreciation for us doing this job, educating the state’s future.” 

Despite talks about raising teacher pay next year, Bartlett doesn’t feel appreciated. Adding insult to injury are state leaders’ discussions about expanding school choice, or policies to fund education outside of public schools, she said. 

“Pay raises should continue regularly and not be attached to political footballs, which is what I fear will happen this year,” she said. “It’s a double kick to public school teachers.”

Rising health insurance costs

The worst part about being a teacher? According to Reid — and educators across the state surveyed by the teachers association — it’s the health insurance premiums. 

When the state raised teacher pay in 2022, the monthly cost for teachers to insure themselves and their families was around $700. 

Four years later, that’s up to about $900 a month, or $10,800 a year. It’s an annual increase of $2,400. For a teacher with 10 years of experience and a master’s degree, that’s more than a fifth of their salary. At the same time, deductibles have gone up.

Rising premiums are a major part of what’s driving teachers away from the sector, said Megan Boren, who leads teacher workforce policy efforts for the Southern Regional Education Board, a nonprofit focused on improving education. In October, Boren spoke to Mississippi senators about challenges facing the education system nationwide and in the South. During that presentation, she said health insurance premiums have gone down in the region, largely due to reductions in two Southern states with some of the highest premiums. 

In Mississippi and most of the region, costs keep going up.

“Typically, older and more experienced teachers are the ones who have a family to cover,” she told Mississippi Today. “When you factor in premiums for a family, those teachers’ net pay has decreased because of that significantly increased cost.”

Reid has had cancer twice. During his second round of treatment in 2022, his deductible was $13,000. He met the deductible early on, but still spent a huge chunk of money, he said. And as a teacher, there’s not an option to take paid medical leave.

“We go on vacation … we’re not living paycheck to paycheck,” he said. “But we can’t live the lifestyle a lot of neighbors would live.”

Reid’s wife also drives a school bus to supplement their income. Their kids are limited to one sport each. The family used just one car to get around for a long time. And for a year, they made do with a mostly broken washer. 

It’s not what a 17-year classroom veteran deserves, he said. 

After a quarter century in the classroom, Julie Price, a third grade reading and social studies teacher in Pearl, is getting paid less than her son in his first year as a civil engineer at the Mississippi Department of Transportation. 

“I’m proud of him, and I know the job is challenging and complicated,” she said. “But that was a slap in the face.” 

Though Price is too invested in her life in Mississippi to leave, temptation lingers. In her home state of Alabama, just a few hours away, she’d be paid almost $10,000 more each year, she said.  

Price’s husband died from COVID-19 complications in January 2021. Abruptly going from two salaries to one, right as her son was headed to college, was hard — and still is, she said. 

Recently, Price had to renew her car tag, a $300 expense that she didn’t budget for. She and her son only eat out once a week. And without meeting her deductible, going to the doctor for continuing neck issues has been expensive. 

“If you don’t have some cushion in there, you’d wipe your money out,” Price said. “Then how would you live?”

To attract quality people to the profession in Mississippi, Reid said, pay raises need to be frequent and substantial.

“Politicians can’t raise pay once and take three to four years off in between election cycles because these pay raises degrade so quickly,” he said. 

“If we want our schools to be great, we’ve got to pay for that.”

Can Mississippi teachers afford to stay?

Vivienne Diaz, a 23-year-old who teaches juniors and seniors at Jackson’s Jim Hill High School, is at the dawn of her career. 

What she sees ahead makes her nervous. 

Diaz, the daughter of a teacher, didn’t go in blind. She knew her pay wouldn’t reflect the hours she’d spend outside of the classroom, planning her lessons and sponsoring a club. With her free time, Diaz helps plan educational programming and teaches at her synagogue on Sundays, which brings in around $200 a month. 

“My senior year, I told my mom, ‘I’ll never be a teacher. I see how you get treated,’” she said. “It is just as difficult as I knew it was going to be.”

But she loves mentoring her students, getting to watch them bloom and being part of the process. That’s why she became a teacher, despite the challenges. 

Still, when Diaz finishes her master’s degree in teaching, it doesn’t financially make sense for her to stay, no matter how much she loves teaching. She’s looking into schools in other states or a job in Mississippi in another field.

Diaz is exactly the kind of person Mississippi leaders want to keep around — a young, smart professional who might make her home and raise her family here. A pay raise is the bare minimum state leaders could do to keep people like Diaz in Mississippi, said Boren of SREB. 

“It’s really important for state leaders to recognize that the work here to help kind of restore faith in the profession, restore those wanting to come in and stay in the profession, it’s a comprehensive approach,” Boren said. “There’s not one silver bullet. Increasing pay alone is not going to cover it. 

“That’s not always what our leaders want to hear. They want to hear what’s the solution and how to fix it now, and I sympathize with that, but the solution is a comprehensive plan and a comprehensive investment in our educators and in the profession as a whole.”

Diaz might reconsider if lawmakers pass a substantial raise, she said. But even then, she’d think twice.

“I love watching my students learn and develop and become new people,” Diaz said. “But just because I have that heart doesn’t mean I don’t deserve that good paycheck.”

STARKVILLE — The 124-year-old football rivalry between Ole Miss and Mississippi State has a new subplot that could very well overshadow what is a high-stakes game in its own right.

The sixth-ranked Rebels (10-1, 6-1 SEC, No. 7 CFP) could lock up a spot in the College Football Playoff with a victory Friday over the Bulldogs (5-6, 1-6) in the Egg Bowl — only to have their celebration muted if coach Lane Kiffin announces after the game that he has decided to leave the program for another suitor.

During the past two weeks, Kiffin family members have traveled from Oxford to both Gainesville, Florida, and Baton Rouge, Louisiana, while Ole Miss has sought to fend off efforts by Florida and LSU to lure away their coach.

Kiffin and Mississippi athletics director Keith Carter had a meeting last Friday where they reportedly discussed the coach’s future. Carter emerged from that with a public statement that Kiffin was focused on the Egg Bowl and a decision on his future would be announced by Saturday.

The sixth-year Rebels coach has offered little clarity since.

“Keith and I have a great relationship. We communicate daily on a lot of things and I love it here. It’s been amazing,” Kiffin said. “We’re in a season that’s the greatest run in the history of Ole Miss at this point, having never been at this point.

“It’s really exciting. So, I’m just living in the moment,” Kiffin continued. “And our players are, too, you know? I see their joy … about where they’re at and have so much on the line. It’s just awesome to be a part of.”

This is the second time that the rivalry game has been shadowed by Kiffin’s potential exit from Oxford.

In 2022, Kiffin was linked to an opening at Auburn. His Rebels lost to the Bulldogs at home, 24-22, and wound up 8-5, but Kiffin signed an extension with Ole Miss.

Going for gold

A trophy known as the Golden Egg has gone to the winner of this matchup since 1927 — a year after a brawl broke out in Starkville after Ole Miss fans attempted to take down the goal posts.

There has been plenty more vitriol between them since, regardless of what else was at stake for either team.

On Friday, the stakes are higher for the Rebels, but the Bulldogs have a chance to extend their season as well because one more victory would make them bowl eligible in coach Jeff Lebby’s second season.

“We have a bunch of staff members that played here and played inside this game, understand what it’s about,” Lebby said. “The more you can talk about that part of it and guys that have come before and played in between the white lines in this game, they have the ability to communicate to our guys that haven’t been here long and don’t know the history as some of the others.

“It’s great for our entire football team to understand the urgency of what’s at stake,” Lebby added. “You see the guys that are from this state and have played in this game, there’s great pride in how we do what we go do on Friday.”

Recent dominance

Ole Miss has had the better of this rivalry in recent years, winning the past two and four of the past five.

But Kiffin, who had Lebby on his Ole Miss staff earlier this decade, has been impressed by the Bulldogs’ improvement this season.

“Lebby’s done a great job,” Kiffin said, calling him “one of the best offensive minds in football.”

Meanwhile, Kiffin declined to discuss his future this week and said his players have not appeared distracted by the uncertainty surrounding their coach.

“Our team has been very focused since noise has been out there,” Kiffin said. “It’s a different generation … They all can leave every year. A lot of that is financially based. And so, they don’t think the traditional way.”

A man who was brutalized by Rankin County Sheriff’s deputies during a traffic stop filed a federal lawsuit against the county Tuesday evening. 

Alan Schmidt, who filed the lawsuit, said Rankin County deputies beat and sexually assaulted him in late 2022. Three of the involved deputies were sentenced to federal and state prison terms last year, in part for their role in the incident. They are also defendants in the lawsuit.

In the lawsuit, which represents one side of a legal argument, Schmidt alleged that the department was responsible for a pattern of misconduct by deputies and jail guards, listing several other lawsuits against deputies and county jail guards. 

While he’s seeking an unspecified amount of compensation for his own pain and suffering, he said he is also filing the lawsuit on behalf of everyone who has been abused by the sheriff’s department.

“There are many things that go on in this county that have gone on for many years,” Schmidt said. “I want justice for everyone that has been wronged.”

The department did not respond to a request for comment. 

In December 2022, deputies pulled Schmidt from his car and beat him while he was handcuffed, the lawsuit alleges. One deputy pressed his arm into an anthill, and former narcotics investigator Christian Dedmon fired a gun near Schmidt’s head while interrogating him about the location of stolen tools he believed Schmidt had taken. 

Dedmon punched Schmidt and shocked him several times with Deputy Hunter Elward’s Taser, then pulled out his own genitals and attempted to rub them in Schmidt’s face, the lawsuit claims.

Dedmon pleaded guilty to violating Schimdt’s constitutional rights, but has since denied the sexual assault. Former deputies Hunter Elward and Daniel Opdyke pleaded guilty to failing to stop the beating, according to court documents.  

The deputies also pleaded guilty to a separate late-night raid of the home of Michael Jenkins and Eddie Parker, two Black men who were tortured and called racial slurs for hours by five deputies and a Richland police officer in early 2023. 

Schmidt’s lawsuit is the latest in a series of allegations from people who say they were brutalized by Rankin County sheriff’s deputies and guards at the county jail, which is run by the sheriff’s department. 

An investigation by Mississippi Today and The New York Times found that the Rankin County deputies, some of whom referred to themselves as the Goon Squad, had been torturing people they suspected of using drugs for nearly two decades. 

The Justice Department launched an investigation into a potential pattern of civil rights violations at the department last year. That investigation is ongoing. 

Dedmon has since said publicly that the abuses he participated in were part of a widespread practice at the department, where deputies would routinely enter homes illegally, beat people and humiliate them to extract information and scare criminal suspects out of the county.

A recent investigation by the publications found that for years, guards and administrators at the Rankin County jail brutalized the inmates in their care, sometimes enlisting other inmates with special privileges, called trusties, to help them beat inmates who broke jail rules. 

Schmidt’s attorney, Trent Walker, who has represented several people who say they were brutalized by the sheriff’s department, said Schmidt’s case proves the entrenched culture of violence at the agency. 

“The case puts the lie to any claim that what happened to Michael Jenkins and Eddie Parker was isolated,” he said. “ I want the citizens of Rankin County, specifically, to be able to look at this case and the other cases and say that it’s enough, it’s time for a fresh start.”

Mississippi Today is grateful to announce the Sarah Yelena Haselhorst Fund for Health Journalism, a generous gift honoring the life of the young journalist for which it is named. 

The fund, provided by her parents, Melissa Stanza and Alan Haselhorst, will place an emerging journalist in a yearlong fellowship on the health team at Mississippi Today, beginning in 2026. Application information is available at this link for the fellowship, which offers journalists an immersive experience with the opportunity to report on issues including mental health, maternal health and underserved communities.

Sarah was 31 when she died in 2024 in South Carolina.

She was a native of St. Louis, Missouri and worked in health care before becoming a reporter with a passion for health journalism. She worked at the Clarion Ledger in Jackson from 2021 to 2022, where she covered the COVID-19 pandemic and its impact on Mississippians and the health care system, among other pressing health topics. 

“Sarah dedicated so much of her energy and effort to shedding light on and sharing the truth about the realities too many Mississippians face when attempting to access health care, including mental health care,” said Laura Santhanam, Mississippi Today’s health editor. “It is our honor to carry her memory forward with this fellowship and to help early-career journalists continue that important work so more people in Mississippi and beyond can get the help they need.”

A graduate of the University of Missouri’s journalism school, Sarah was committed to truth and persistent in her search for it.

And though Sarah was opinionated, “she made such an effort in her reporting to be fair, to not put her perspective in there, and to give everybody a voice,” Stanza said.  

After leaving Mississippi in 2022 and moving to Hilton Head, South Carolina, to report on climate at The Island Packet, Sarah worked on a story about erosion of a barrier island owned by the University of South Carolina. The island was given to the university with the condition it remain untouched, save for the building of a lab, and that it be used for scientific and educational purposes. 

When Sarah was told she couldn’t visit the island as part of her reporting, she pushed back – and got her first inkling that there was more under the surface. 

She kept digging after publishing the first story. She interviewed the family of Philip Rhodes, the owner of Pritchards Island who donated it to the university decades ago. She also visited the island. Her months-long reporting uncovered disrepair and underfunding, in addition to a little known fact: that the deeds associated with the gift stipulated that if the University of South Carolina did not abide by its rules, Pritchards would go to the University of Georgia, Rhodes’ alma mater. 

A year after Sarah reported that story and others about the island, the South Carolina Legislature, with the support of the governor, passed a bill awarding $500,000 a year in recurring funding for Pritchards Island. The money allowed the university to revive its research efforts, which continue to this day.

A rocking chair bearing a plaque now sits on the front porch of the Beaufort College Building on the historic campus of the University of South Carolina-Beaufort. It reads: “In grateful memory of Sarah Yelena Haselhorst whose writing helped save Pritchards Island.”

The reporting by Sarah had the same kind of impact the journalists at Mississippi Today strive to achieve. The fellow will be urged to work in the same spirit as Sarah: to dig deeper, be persistent and uncover the unknown.

Stanza and Haselhorst said their daughter spoke highly of Mississippi Today when she was working in the state. The respect she held for the newsroom led them to fund a fellowship in her honor. 

“Sarah did not give her praise lightly,” Stanza said. “So when she said something was good, she really believed it was good.” 

A note Sarah wrote to readers and friends when she left Mississippi showed how deeply she was touched by her time in the state and the people she met. 

She wrote beautifully of the tragic, including the COVID-19 death of a 13-year-old girl, and the joyful, including the 100th birthday celebration of a Mississippi Delta native.    

“I hiked up to the Delta and saw high cotton, ate barbecue at a 97-year-old staple and met the bravest woman I’d ever spoken with. I went down to Biloxi to lie on the hottest sand my feet had ever encountered. Then ate some damn good fish tacos,” Sarah wrote. “I spent time with nurses, farmers, Freedom Riders, activists, people experiencing homelessness, people with fancy titles and those who were too young to talk.”

She also wrote: “The Delta is more breathtaking than you’d ever imagine. The politics more divisive. The heat and humidity more cloying. But at the crux of it all are the people. Mississippians are gracious. They share. They’re natural-born storytellers. And the people I spoke to on a regular basis craved good change.”

Stanza said Sarah always longed to return to Mississippi and to health journalism.

“It was her dream,” she said. “And in a way, now, she’s doing it.” 

If you would like to contribute to the Sarah Yelena Haselhorst Fund for Health Journalism, you may do so by donating here. Please include Haselhorst Fellowship as your reason for giving. For questions and additional information, please contact Mary Margaret White, Mississippi Today CEO & Executive Director at mwhite@mississippitoday.org. 

The stage is set for another classic Egg Bowl, but the stakes have been raised substantially for both Ole Miss and Mississippi State. The Cleveland boys discuss scenarios for the game and the future of Ole Miss football should Lane Kiffin leave for Baton Rouge.

Stream all episodes here.

Mississippi’s private contract for prison medical services has come under growing scrutiny this year as complaints mount about care and oversight. 

The allegations are nothing new. Mississippi has cycled through five private prison health vendors over the past three decades amid recurring concerns about staffing shortages, weak oversight, unpaid bills to hospitals and inadequate care provided to patients. One report published nearly two decades ago by the Legislature’s watchdog committee echoes many of the questions raised by state lawmakers this year. 

Meanwhile, Mississippi Today’s Behind Bars, Beyond Care series has documented alleged routine denial of health care in Mississippi prisons: potentially thousands of people living with hepatitis C going without treatment, an untreated broken arm that resulted in amputation and delayed cancer screenings one woman said led to a terminal diagnosis. One ex-corrections official said people are experiencing widespread medical neglect in Mississippi’s prisons. 

The Legislature appropriated $690,000 this year for monitoring and review of its current prison health contract, held by Kansas-based VitalCore Health Strategies, Inc. A report is due to legislators by Dec. 15. 

Mississippi Today took a closer look at Mississippi’s contracts for medical services and asked experts what changes can be made to strengthen them. 

How long has Mississippi relied on private medical contractors?

Incarcerated people are one of the few groups in the United States with a constitutional right to health care. In the 1990s, faced with frequent lawsuits filed by incarcerated people, consent decrees and ballooning prison populations, an industry of private companies sprung up to shoulder the state’s responsibility of providing health care to people in prison. 

The Mississippi Department of Corrections began contracting out its medical services in 1998 after years of providing health care itself. The University of Mississippi Medical Center was the first entity chosen to provide the services, and since then, the department has held contracts with four other companies. 

Mississippi selected VitalCore for a three-year contract worth over $357 million in 2024. The company won out over Wexford Health Sources and Centurion of Mississippi, both companies that have held the contract for prison medical services in the past, in a competitive bidding process. VitalCore was awarded over $315 million in emergency, no-bid state contracts from 2020 to 2024.

VitalCore holds correctional health contracts in several other states, including Massachusetts, Michigan and Delaware, and it has faced legal battles and scrutiny in other jurisdictions. 

VitalCore was sued last year by its former chief officer medical of operations in Vermont, who alleged the company forged his signature on policy documents and fired him after he raised alarm bells about conditions in the state’s prisons. A 2019 lawsuit alleges that a 48-year-old with documented heart problems collapsed and died in a New Mexico county jail after VitalCore staff failed to properly monitor his condition. And significant understaffing of medical positions in Massachusetts prisons led VitalCore to pay back $1.4 to $1.7 million a month to the state, according to reporting by the Boston Institute for Nonprofit Journalism.

Dan Mistak, the director of health care initiatives for justice-involved populations at Community Oriented Correctional Health Services, described the process of states contracting corrections medical companies as a “revolving door.” 

When a new company is awarded the contract, it often rehires many of the same staff members. If controversy arises over the quality of care or another issue, the company carries the blame and either receives more money from the state to fulfill its obligations or leaves. A new company then rotates in. 

“Rinse, cycle, repeat, over and over again,” Mistak said. 

Centurion, a company previously tasked with providing health care to Mississippi’s prisoners, terminated its contract with the corrections department in 2020 amid an ongoing legal battle with prisoners, arguing that the state’s failure to invest in infrastructure and correctional staffing prevented the company from performing its duties. Centurion was brought in under an emergency contract, like VitalCore, in 2015.

The prior contractor, Wexford, was accused of funneling consulting fees to a former Mississippi state legislator, Cecil McCrory, who pleaded guilty to bribing a Mississippi corrections commissioner, Chris Epps, in exchange for Epps’ efforts to steer state prison contracts. The state collected $4 million from the company in a lawsuit. 

How have prison health care costs changed under the new contract? 

Mississippi’s per capita spending on prison health care has risen steadily over the last 25 years, according to reports by the Legislature’s watchdog branch, the Performance Evaluation and Expenditure Review Committee. 

In 2000, the state spent $5.07 per day on health care for people in its custody. In 2024, the cost was three times as high – $16.03 per day. In recent years, spending on basic medical care has risen starkly while the costs of specialty care have grown more slowly or dropped. 

Corrections Commissioner Burl Cain attributed the rise in costs to inmates overusing medical services. Speaking at a legislative budget hearing Sept. 24, he likened the business of providing medical services to people in Mississippi’s prisons to caring for animals.

“It just goes up, and these inmates go to the doctor for everything,” he said. “And the problem is, it’s like being, I hate to say it, sometimes it’s like being a veterinarian to say what really, what’s wrong with you.”

The Department of Corrections did not respond to questions about why costs are rising or what Cain meant. 

Marc Stern, a faculty member at the University of Washington and former assistant secretary for health care at the Washington Department of Corrections who serves as a medical adviser for the National Sheriffs’ Association and American Jail Association, said the rise in basic care costs may be the result of rising costs for salaries and medications. 

He said health care in jails and prisons in the U.S. is often not funded as well as it needs to be to ensure that people receive quality care.

“As a result, you get what you pay for,” Stern said. “… Is it the fault of the company or is it the fault of the legislature? I guess that’s a philosophical question.” 

Mississippi’s prison population is growing older, which can result in more costly care. The portion of prisoners aged 55 or older has grown by about 10% in the past 20 years, accounting for 12% of the population in 2019. 

Mississippi has one of the highest incarceration rates per capita in the world — 661 people per 100,000. About 19,500 people are currently incarcerated in state prisons. 

How does a fixed-rate model of health spending shape the care prisoners receive? 

VitalCore is paid a flat rate adjusted to reflect the number of people in custody, regardless of their medical needs. It is required to provide onsite care, including mental health, dental, dialysis, laboratory and optometry care, and cover the costs of offsite care at hospitals or for specialty care. In the first year of the contract, VitalCore is paid about $115 million, with adjustments of $53.54 for each inmate below 19,000 or above 19,600. The payment rates grow each year. 

This means that if a contractor spends less to provide health care to people in state custody, it reaps a larger profit. But, it loses money if it exceeds cost projections.

The fixed-rate model is more predictable for the state than other models, like reimbursing a contractor for the care they provide. While the state won’t see the savings if less is spent on medical services, it also won’t be required to pay extra if more is spent. It is the most common way to structure prison health contracts among all states, according to a report from Pew Charitable Trust published in 2015. 

This model can, in theory, reward preventive care measures that keep people healthy and reduce expensive interventions. But it can also encourage delayed or inadequate care, since contractors can save money by limiting the care they provide. Strong monitoring is the key to curbing these risks, experts said. 

Because about 95% of people will be released from prison at some point, communities absorb the consequences of delayed or inadequate care in the long term through higher emergency room use, worsening population health or infectious disease spread, Mistak said. 

This can burden hospitals and state safety-net programs, like Medicaid and Medicare, down the road. 

“Those costs are going to be borne by the state and the community,” he said.  

What if a company’s bid isn’t enough? 

In a competitive process for prison health care vendors, the company with the lowest bid usually wins the contract. But when correctional care providers propose a low budget to stand out during the procurement process, they sometimes can not afford the costs of care they proposed and still turn a profit, Mistak said. 

In some cases, contractors will return to government entities that contracted them to ask for more money. This has played out in Missouri and a county jail in Wisconsin in recent years. 

“You end up paying more anyway for a lot of these contracts,” Mistak said. 

That’s what happened in Mississippi. In May, MDOC requested $4 million for a “deficit appropriation” – money to cover a shortfall – for VitalCore, according to House Corrections Committee Chairwoman Becky Currie, a Republican from Brookhaven.

How do staffing clawbacks work?

If VitalCore does not meet staffing requirements outlined in the contract, the company must pay the corrections department back the average hourly wage for each unfilled hour of work, plus a 20% fee for employee benefits, according to the contract. 

“We’re really good at that,” Cain said Sept. 24. “We take back from the money that they didn’t spend on hiring people. They don’t get to keep it.” 

He said the department has used funds recouped from VitalCore for unmet staffing requirements to pay for improvements to buildings and infrastructure. 

But returning the salaries of unfilled positions isn’t enough, Stern said. To truly motivate companies to fill the position, they must face a financial consequence beyond the value of the vacant position. 

“Those penalties have to be stiff enough to be more than what the vendor saves from not filling the position,” he said. 

Why have legislators said VitalCore is ‘slow paying’ its bills to vendors? 

At the Sept. 24 budget hearing, Sen. Daniel Sparks, a Republican from Belmont, said that VitalCore delaying payments to vendors, including the University of Mississippi Medical Center, has been a “continual issue.” 

Currie told Mississippi Today that Bolivar Medical Center in Cleveland, about 25 miles from the Mississippi State Penitentiary at Parchman, has faced similar challenges. 

Neither hospital, the Department of Corrections or VitalCore responded to a request for comment. 

Cain said Sept. 24 the issue was due in part to hospitals billing VitalCore at rates higher than the agreed-upon costs for prison medical services. Deputy Commissioner of Administration and Finance Derrick Garner said the agency is monitoring the issue and aims to increase oversight of the payments.

Sparks said that VitalCore could pay the agreed-upon rate rather than waiting to negotiate rates. 

“But to not pay the bill at all, and let the bill get into the millions of dollars when that’s a state entity that’s supposed to be paid by a state entity and the intermediary is holding up the payment, it doesn’t settle well,” Sparks said. 

What kind of oversight does Mississippi use to monitor the contract? 

The Department of Corrections performs oversight of its contract with VitalCore. Monitoring tasks include reviewing service levels, quality of care and administrative practices, meeting with VitalCore to address issues, conducting site visits and inspections and reviewing third-party reimbursements, according to the contract. 

The state examining its own contract reduces the costs of bringing in an outside monitor and allows the state more control over what it tracks, said Stern. 

But the quality of monitoring depends on how willing the state is to hold a contractor accountable, and states may be less stringent out of fear that a contractor will bail. 

“The threats of leaving can really make a state gulp,” Mistak said. “…And so sometimes they lay off the gas when it comes to enforcing their own contract.”

The Mississippi Legislature has made several efforts of its own to scrutinize the medical care provided in state prisons. 

The Legislature tasked the health department with studying the challenges of providing health care to people who are incarcerated in 2024, and State Health Officer Dr. Dan Edney presented initial findings at the Capitol in January. The health department will produce a report roughly a year from now, including recommendations to MDOC, said spokesperson Greg Flynn. 

This year, the Legislature appropriated funding for the Department of Corrections to monitor and review the medical services contract, with a report due to legislators by Dec. 15. Cain said Sept. 24 that the contract for the report has been finalized. 

MDOC did not respond to questions about who was awarded the contract.

Currie, who has spent the last year probing for answers as to why inmates are getting sicker as the state increases its spending on medical care, said she is curious to see the report’s finding. She authored a failed bill this year that would have tasked the health department with conducting a sweeping review of medical care for people incarcerated in Mississippi at no cost. 

“Yet, we spend $700,000 on a report,” she said to Mississippi Today. 

Does privatizing prison health care make the system better?

Most states contract all or part of their prison health services with private companies. Several states provide their own prison health services through government agencies, like Louisiana.

If a state develops a strong oversight system, they can gain the expertise to manage the contract themselves, said Stern. Providing health care in-house can reduce costs for states, he said, because contractors must make a profit margin and less duplication of services exists between the state and the contractors. 

It also creates more opportunities for continuity between prison health care and community health care, which would make it easier for health providers to care for people when they are released, experts said. 

Some evidence shows that medical services run by government agencies may lead to lower death rates. A 2020 Reuters investigation of more than 500 jails in the U.S. showed that facilities with private healthcare contractors had higher death rates than those run by government agencies. 

Currie said she would like to see prison health care run by the state or a local hospital system, which she said would ensure stronger accountability and quality care. 

“I’m just not able to sit back and watch people die and be treated badly, no matter who they are,” Currie said. 

“…Most of these people are coming out. And the new law is that most of them will come out. And you know, we need them to be healthy and ready to go to work and lower our recidivism rate.”