Paying for contact: The broken promise of prison phone reform

By Alexander Fernandez

Life News Today

WASHINGTON (Oct. 15, 2025) — When Congress passed the Martha Wright-Reed Act in 2023, it promised an end to one of the most persistent financial burdens in America’s justice system: the price of a phone call home. Two years later, that promise remains out of reach.

The law gave the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) full authority to regulate how much prisons and jails could charge for calls. The goal was simply to stop private telecom companies and correctional institutions from profiting off families desperate to stay connected. In 2024, the FCC set national rate caps and banned prison telecommunication kickbacks that had inflated costs for decades. But in June 2025, Chairman Brendan Carr announced the rules would not take effect until 2027, delaying the reform that families had waited years to see.

Commissioner Anna M. Gomez called the delay “an indefensible decision to ignore both the law and the will of Congress.” Her statement, filed in the FCC’s official docket, reflected the frustration of many who believed the issue had already been settled. The 2024 order had reduced the cost of a 15-minute call to about 90 cents in large prisons and $1.35 in small jails,  down from rates that had exceeded $11 in some counties.

The reforms aimed to do more than make phone calls affordable; they sought to dismantle a system that had turned communication into commerce. The FCC’s order, document FCC-24-75, outlawed “site commissions,” payments telecom companies made to correctional facilities in exchange for exclusive contracts that turned phone access into a revenue stream for prisons, often consuming nearly half of what families paid. The Equal Justice Initiative, a Montgomery-based civil rights organization that provides legal aid to incarcerated people, described the practice as “a tax on love.” In its 2023 report on carceral economics, the group wrote that the system “penalizes family contact and undermines rehabilitation,” warning that high communication costs deepen poverty and isolation among those most affected by incarceration.

According to the Prison Policy Initiative, more than 400,000 families across the United States spend a combined $1.4 billion a year on phone calls with incarcerated relatives, often forcing trade-offs between connection and daily necessities. One mother from Ohio wrote to the FCC in July 2025, saying, “We skip bills to stay in touch. It is the only thing keeping my son sane.” Her letter captured what the data could not quantify, the emotional toll of treating contact as a privilege instead of a right.

Data from the U.S. Department of Justice supports that belief. Regular family contact lowers the likelihood of reoffending by up to 13 percent and improves post-release employment and mental health. Yet the system designed to foster that connection continues to price out the very people it claims to help.

Carr defended the delay by citing a need for “further study” and concerns about “unintended impacts on facility safety.” His reasoning did little to satisfy reform advocates or the 11 state attorneys general who filed a joint brief defending the FCC’s original rate caps. Their filing argued that “families have paid for decades what no free-market consumer would tolerate” and warned that the delay “preserves monopoly pricing in violation of Congressional intent.”

The Government Accountability Office reached a similar conclusion in a September 2025 report, stating that the FCC’s postponement “creates an enforcement gap that undermines both statutory authority and consumer protection.” The GAO emphasized that the Martha Wright-Reed Act was explicitly written to close the loopholes that had allowed states to avoid federal oversight by labeling calls as “intrastate.”

While the legal and regulatory fight continues, families remain caught between corporate lobbying and bureaucratic caution. The two largest providers, Securus and Pay Tel, continue to dominate the industry through contracts with more than 2,000 correctional facilities. Their agreements often include clauses guaranteeing profit margins based on per-minute usage, meaning prisons earn more when families talk longer.

In many counties, those profits fund unrelated expenses, from office upgrades to staff training. Advocates say the arrangement creates a perverse incentive — the more isolated people become, the more facilities gain financially. In a July 2025 statement, Equal Justice Initiative said, “There is no justification for prisons profiting from the voices of the poor.”

Some states have begun to act independently. New York made all state prison calls free in 2023, saving families an estimated $24 million annually. California followed, implementing free calls in 2024. But the majority of U.S. jails operate under local contracts, leaving millions of people dependent on systems that still charge high rates.

The consequences ripple far beyond phone bills. Advocates point out that communication helps stabilize families, reduces violence in facilities, and supports reentry after release. When that link is broken, they say, the costs are social as much as financial.

Inside the FCC docket, hundreds of public comments tell the story more clearly than any regulation. “My daughter hasn’t heard my voice in two months,” one father wrote. “She thinks I left her. I didn’t. I just can’t afford to call.”

The Commission’s own filings acknowledge the moral weight of the issue. In its 2024 order, the FCC wrote, “Affordable communication is essential to public safety and rehabilitation.” Yet its 2025 vote ensured that those words would remain theoretical for at least two more years.

Whether the next two years bring enforcement or more delay will determine not only the cost of a phone call but also the value the country places on connection itself. Until then, millions of Americans will keep paying for something most people take for granted — the sound of a loved one’s voice.