Life on COVID-19 Lockdown at FCI Seagoville: One Man's Account

In July 2020, Anthony Accurso was held at FCI Seagoville, a federal prison near Dallas, when COVID-19 cases forced a lockdown. In this first-person account, he describes what that looked like from the inside: men with fevers moved without explanation, sick call gone, and almost no one sent home.

Update (October 2026): This first-person account was written in July 2020. The Bureau of Prisons' expanded power to send people to home confinement under the CARES Act has since ended. People already placed there could stay under an April 2023 rule (BOP notice).

On July 2, 2020, the Dallas Morning News ran a story called "Prison Starts Mass Testing." It describes conditions here at FCI Seagoville. It also tells about a South Dallas woman whose husband is held here. She has been pushing the warden to send people home under the CARES Act, the COVID-19 relief law that let the Bureau of Prisons (BOP) expand home confinement. So far, I have not seen anyone here approved for home confinement, even though many seem to qualify.

Life on lockdown

My building holds up to 330 men, which is large for Seagoville. Many men here use wheelchairs. Many have lung problems like asthma or COPD. Many are elderly or diabetic.

The prison started reporting several active COVID-19 cases on Thursday, June 25, and we went on lockdown. Before that, men from each building went to work in food service, laundry, and commissary. Now nobody leaves. Everything is brought to us. Health services hands out pills and refills on the front porch.

The newspaper said medical staff is now on hand 24 hours a day. That is misleading. Twice a day they check our temperature. If you show 99.6 degrees or mention other symptoms, you are moved out to isolation. But we no longer have regular sick call for routine health problems.

Laundry is down from two days a week to one. Commissary is uncertain. We get one hot meal a day, with one serving of vegetables. Commissary food was helping us stay somewhat healthy.

Moved without a word

It is scary when men with a fever get moved. We do not know where they go. They get a green duffel bag, pack their things, and leave.

This morning one man had a temperature of 100.6. Other men spent three hours saying goodbye while he packed. Most wore masks. It shows how fragile we are that we would risk our health to say goodbye.

No help with compassionate release

Today a man asked me to help him file for compassionate release with the court. Compassionate release is a court order that shortens a sentence for extraordinary and compelling reasons, such as serious illness. He has diabetes and high blood pressure, and he is over 65.

I asked why he waited so long. He said he did not know what to do, and another man was supposed to help him. That man was moved last week because of his own poor health. He also told me his judge has a reputation for harsh sentences. The warden here will not let people go. And our other option is judges who, in my view, do not understand that at-risk people are dying.

By: Anthony Accurso

A note for families: A request for compassionate release starts with a written request to the warden. Under 18 U.S.C. § 3582(c)(1)(A), the person can then file in court after the BOP's denial has been fully appealed, or 30 days after the warden receives the request, whichever comes first. Gathering the person's BOP medical records early can save time.

Facing a federal sentence? Book a consultation to talk it through with Brandon Sample.