Amanda Biggers, an incarcerated woman at FCI Waseca, is battling both chronic sciatica and the prison’s deliberate indifference to her medical needs. On December 20, 2024, Amanda fell from her top bunk while attempting to climb the ladder, a direct result of her ongoing nerve damage that frequently causes her leg to go numb. Despite being seen by medical staff that same day, her concerns were quickly dismissed, with no meaningful evaluation of her injuries. She remains in excruciating pain, yet prison officials refuse to grant her a bottom bunk placement—a simple and necessary accommodation that could prevent further potentially life-threatening falls. Instead, they have repeatedly denied her requests, citing misrepresented policies and demonstrating a blatant disregard for her safety.
It is imperative that FCI Waseca takes immediate action to ensure Amanda receives the medical care she is entitled to. This includes assigning her a permanent bottom bunk and addressing her chronic sciatica with appropriate medical attention. The Bureau of Prisons (BOP) is bound by its own regulations, which guarantee incarcerated individuals the right to fair, adequate, and honest medical treatment. By ignoring Amanda’s condition and refusing to grant her a bottom bunk, FCI Waseca is violating its own policies, as well as her constitutional rights.
The prison handbook clearly states that incarcerated individuals have the right to healthcare, including pain management, and that staff must treat them with respect and impartiality. Yet, Amanda’s experience reflects the exact opposite: dismissiveness, cruelty, and systemic neglect. When she reported worsening pain to Dr. Alvarez following her fall, she was brushed aside. “She asked how my wrist was and saw that it was better, then tried to rush me out,” Amanda recalls. “I told her my wrist is better, but now I keep having pain shoot to my elbow, along with a tingling sensation. She tells me, ‘That is life, have a magical day!’” This kind of callous response is not only unprofessional but a direct violation of Amanda’s basic rights.
Amanda’s struggle is not an isolated incident—it is a symptom of a much larger problem within the U.S. prison system. Across the country, incarcerated individuals routinely suffer from inadequate healthcare, dismissive medical staff, and bureaucratic barriers that make it nearly impossible to receive proper treatment. Amanda’s case exemplifies the systemic negligence that turns prisons into sites of suffering rather than rehabilitation.
Despite these issues—including the fact that she has fallen off her bunk and injured herself twice already and is continuously at risk of falling off the bunk and injuring herself time and time again—the regional office stands firm on their position that her conditions do not warrant a bottom bunk. Their foremost argument is that in order to be placed on a bottom bunk, BOP policy necessitates that she must be actively experiencing a medical emergency, defined as "an acute injury or illness that poses an immediate risk to a person's life or long-term health." But since her life-threatening condition is clearly not enough for the Bureau, the region's assertion that only medical emergencies qualify an individual for a bottom bunk is quite literally factually incorrect. According to the Federal Correctional Complex Butner Health Services Procedure Manual, incarcerated individuals "who have insufficient strength or motion to transfer safely to an upper bunk should be issued an authorization for a standard height low bunk." Federal law requires consistent standards of care across all federal prisons, therefore, Amanda rightfully questions why FCI Waseca has misrepresented the severity of the medical condition needed to obtain a lower bunk.
Her words encapsulate the frustration felt by so many: “My back is still in constant pain, and it is so frustrating that they are not taking me seriously and will not give me a permanent bottom bunk. I have fallen twice, and the second time it happened, they did not see me until two hours later and then said it was not swollen or bruised, and it clearly was. I have so many witnesses.”
The pattern is clear: prisons like FCI Waseca operate with a mindset of indifference, where individuals’ health concerns are dismissed unless they reach the point of undeniable emergency—sometimes too late. This is not just negligence; it is a systemic, intentional denial of human dignity.
FCI Waseca must immediately assign Amanda a bottom bunk, ensuring her safety and complying with federal regulations. Beyond that, prison officials must be held accountable for their neglectful practices. The medical staff’s failure to provide timely and adequate care reflects a broken system that doesn’t truly value human life.
Amanda’s case is a reminder that the fight for prison reform is a fight for basic human rights. Incarceration should not be a death sentence, nor should it strip individuals of their right to adequate medical care. It is time for FCI Waseca—and the entire prison system—to recognize the humanity of those in their custody and act accordingly before another preventable tragedy occurs.
Amanda Biggers, an incarcerated woman at FCI Waseca, is battling both chronic sciatica and the prison’s deliberate indifference to her medical needs. On December 20, 2024, Amanda fell from her top bunk while attempting to climb the ladder, a direct result of her ongoing nerve damage that frequently causes her leg to go numb. Despite being seen by medical staff that same day, her concerns were quickly dismissed, with no meaningful evaluation of her injuries. She remains in excruciating pain, yet prison officials refuse to grant her a bottom bunk placement—a simple and necessary accommodation that could prevent further potentially life-threatening falls. Instead, they have repeatedly denied her requests, citing misrepresented policies and demonstrating a blatant disregard for her safety.
It is imperative that FCI Waseca takes immediate action to ensure Amanda receives the medical care she is entitled to. This includes assigning her a permanent bottom bunk and addressing her chronic sciatica with appropriate medical attention. The Bureau of Prisons (BOP) is bound by its own regulations, which guarantee incarcerated individuals the right to fair, adequate, and honest medical treatment. By ignoring Amanda’s condition and refusing to grant her a bottom bunk, FCI Waseca is violating its own policies, as well as her constitutional rights.
The prison handbook clearly states that incarcerated individuals have the right to healthcare, including pain management, and that staff must treat them with respect and impartiality. Yet, Amanda’s experience reflects the exact opposite: dismissiveness, cruelty, and systemic neglect. When she reported worsening pain to Dr. Alvarez following her fall, she was brushed aside. “She asked how my wrist was and saw that it was better, then tried to rush me out,” Amanda recalls. “I told her my wrist is better, but now I keep having pain shoot to my elbow, along with a tingling sensation. She tells me, ‘That is life, have a magical day!’” This kind of callous response is not only unprofessional but a direct violation of Amanda’s basic rights.
Amanda’s struggle is not an isolated incident—it is a symptom of a much larger problem within the U.S. prison system. Across the country, incarcerated individuals routinely suffer from inadequate healthcare, dismissive medical staff, and bureaucratic barriers that make it nearly impossible to receive proper treatment. Amanda’s case exemplifies the systemic negligence that turns prisons into sites of suffering rather than rehabilitation.
Despite these issues—including the fact that she has fallen off her bunk and injured herself twice already and is continuously at risk of falling off the bunk and injuring herself time and time again—the regional office stands firm on their position that her conditions do not warrant a bottom bunk. Their foremost argument is that in order to be placed on a bottom bunk, BOP policy necessitates that she must be actively experiencing a medical emergency, defined as "an acute injury or illness that poses an immediate risk to a person's life or long-term health." But since her life-threatening condition is clearly not enough for the Bureau, the region's assertion that only medical emergencies qualify an individual for a bottom bunk is quite literally factually incorrect. According to the Federal Correctional Complex Butner Health Services Procedure Manual, incarcerated individuals "who have insufficient strength or motion to transfer safely to an upper bunk should be issued an authorization for a standard height low bunk." Federal law requires consistent standards of care across all federal prisons, therefore, Amanda rightfully questions why FCI Waseca has misrepresented the severity of the medical condition needed to obtain a lower bunk.
Her words encapsulate the frustration felt by so many: “My back is still in constant pain, and it is so frustrating that they are not taking me seriously and will not give me a permanent bottom bunk. I have fallen twice, and the second time it happened, they did not see me until two hours later and then said it was not swollen or bruised, and it clearly was. I have so many witnesses.”
The pattern is clear: prisons like FCI Waseca operate with a mindset of indifference, where individuals’ health concerns are dismissed unless they reach the point of undeniable emergency—sometimes too late. This is not just negligence; it is a systemic, intentional denial of human dignity.
FCI Waseca must immediately assign Amanda a bottom bunk, ensuring her safety and complying with federal regulations. Beyond that, prison officials must be held accountable for their neglectful practices. The medical staff’s failure to provide timely and adequate care reflects a broken system that doesn’t truly value human life.
Amanda’s case is a reminder that the fight for prison reform is a fight for basic human rights. Incarceration should not be a death sentence, nor should it strip individuals of their right to adequate medical care. It is time for FCI Waseca—and the entire prison system—to recognize the humanity of those in their custody and act accordingly before another preventable tragedy occurs.
