Nevada's Prisons Run Short on Guards, Cash, and Common Sense

The Nevada Department of Corrections has found itself in a most unusual fix–a $53 million hole in its britches and not a needle or thread in sight.

One thing you can count on in this life besides death and taxes–politicians talking in circles and that prisons ought to know how many fellers it needs to keep the keys janglin’ and cell doors shut. And as it turns out, the folks at NDOC have been leaning on their guards like an old mule leans on a sagging fence, working overtime till they’re sprouting gray hairs faster than you can say “appropriations committee.”

This hiccup, like a jackrabbit in a carrot patch three months before the end of the fiscal year, left the legislative Democrats hollering like they got bit by a snake. Senator Rochelle Nguyen, who hails from Las Vegas but sounded like she came straight from Missouri–the “show me” state–declared, “You knew that you were going to have a problem.”

And you know what? She may be right.

Director James Dzurenda, who’s been running this three-ring circus off-and-on since 2016, reckons the problem comes down to a lack of bodies to fill the boots. According to him, they’ve got about enough trainers in their academy to play a game of checkers–seven of ‘em–but called in over 300 officers last year to get the job done. That alone cost $350,000 in overtime, not counting coffee and complaints.

To make matters more tangled than a cat in a knitting basket, their most recent collective bargaining agreement hands officers two extra days off each year. Well, those days off don’t cover themselves, so up go the overtime costs like a Fourth of July rocket, hitting $2 million to keep things operational.

The governor’s office claims they saw smoke on the horizon in January and sent folks to fetch water–or start an audit and craft a new pay plan. But as anyone will tell you, closing the barn door after the horse runs off is mighty poor timing.

The Democrats are stomping their feet, demanding answers. “Why hasn’t there been a request every session since that old study over a decade ago?” asked Senate Majority Leader Nicole Cannizzaro, likely envisioning a world where government agencies behave as expected–an idea as fanciful as a well-fed mosquito in a Nevada drought.

There’s a study in the works. But it won’t get done until after the session ends. That’s like building a bridge after the flood.

Dzurenda admits it’ll be “devastating,” which is as comforting as hearing your ship’s captain say, “We hit something.”

To plug the leak, the agency has taken the bold step of cutting family visitations and inmate education–which is a bit like fixing a leaky roof by taking the kitchen stove outside and hoping for the best.

One can hardly blame the guards–they’re just doing the work. And you can’t hang the blame on the warden either, who inherited the mess. But somewhere between the Legislature, the union, and that budget ledger, there’s a canyon of missteps you could lose a year’s funding–and apparently, they did.

So here we are–ten thousand prisoners, not enough guards, and a budget bleeding money like a canoe with a hole in its bottom. And still, no clear answer to the one question rattling through the halls of government like a ghost with a grievance — “Why didn’t y’all say something sooner?”

Nevada wouldn’t be in this pickle if common sense were as plentiful as overtime hours. But alas, it’s not–so the clock ticks toward July while lawmakers dig through the couch cushions for $53 million and a miracle.

Mark my words–when the government gets to spendin’ money it didn’t plan for, it behaves just like a gambler on credit–bold, desperate, and awful fond of blaming the dealer.