SHAKOPEE, Minn. – Dave and Joan Hart live across a 3-foot hedge from 79 murderers, 15 robbers, eight burglars and five arsonists. And they like their neighborhood just the way it is.
The Harts and many of their neighbors oppose a plan to put a security fence around the state prison for women in this outlying Minneapolis suburb. They say it will ruin their views and send a message of fear.
“It’ll change the whole perception of people who come through,” Dave Hart said. “They might as well put up a sign, ‘Welcome to Stalag 13.’”
Prison officials say explosive growth in the prison population and a rising number of dangerous female offenders require more than a hedge. They want a $3 million to $5 million double fence, complete with video cameras and motion detectors.
Warden Rick Hillengass says Shakopee may be the nation’s only prison housing violent offenders without a fence. James Gondles, head of the American Correctional Association, backed up the claim, saying he doesn’t know of another prison that holds high-risk inmates without “some kind of outer perimeter of security.”
About a third of Shakopee’s 500 inmates are doing time for violent crimes such as homicide, assault, sexual assault and robbery. It’s getting harder for prison guards to watch every inmate on the grounds during five-minute periods when the doors are unlocked.
The 10- to 12-foot high outer fence facing the neighbors would be black metal pickets between brick or concrete pillars. A chain-link fence would go up about 20 feet inside, rigged with alarms and motion detectors.
The Harts’ kitchen windows looked out over a cornfield when they built their house 35 years ago. When the modern prison was built in 1986, across the street from the state’s original reformatory for women, it took the cornfield but didn’t spoil the view beyond the Harts’ bird feeder. The speckled brown brick buildings look like a modest college campus.
The prospect of a barrier has upset the people who live in the low ranch-style houses on three sides of the prison. A 38-year-old elementary school sits to the south, across from the prison’s softball fields. About 25 neighbors came to a recent meeting at the facility to oppose the fence.
The last two escapes – Hillengass calls them “walkaways” – happened last year when the doors were unlocked to allow inmates to move around. Both women – one convicted of aggravated robbery, the other a repeat drunken driver – took off running. They were recaptured without incident.
Legislative approval would be required to fund the new fence, and the Harts already have started lobbying against it.
State Rep. Michael Beard, R-Shakopee, says he understands the concerns, but there’s good reason for the fence.
“We used to have women in there who kited checks or maybe fenced stolen goods for their boyfriends,” Beard said. “Now we actually have women in there who are physically violent people.”
Hillengass says neighbors have grown comfortable with the prison – maybe too comfortable. The original prison opened in 1920, preceding the neighborhood that developed around it.
“Because the institution was small and the community grew up around it, there just always has been a comfort level. … There isn’t a fear factor,” Hillengass said. “I think a lot of it is that they don’t really know who we have here.”
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