One mark per person, by the year they died. Choose the box at the side to see every decade. Coverage is uneven: recent deaths come mostly from local news since 2000, older ones from official lists and historical newspapers, so the shape shows what was recorded as much as how many people died.
These deaths have cost taxpayers in District of Columbia at least $1.5 million: the amount governments have agreed or been ordered to pay the families and estates of at least 1 person named here, in settlements and court awards reported in the news. Families sued over at least 1 of these deaths. Many suits end with no amount made public, and many settlements are kept confidential, so the true cost is higher.
| Person | Paid by | Year | Amount |
|---|---|---|---|
| Paul Mannina | District of Columbia | 2024 | $1.5 million |
Each bar is a source and the years its records cover. Sources checked on a schedule are searched again for new records; the others were collected once.
The District of Columbia has had no prison of its own since November 2001, when the D.C. Department of Corrections closed the last of its seven prisons, at the Lorton Correctional Complex in Virginia. A 1997 act of Congress sent people sentenced for felonies in the District to prisons run or contracted by the federal Bureau of Prisons, and the department moved more than 10,000 people to federal prisons across the country.1 The department runs the D.C. Jail: the Central Detention Facility, opened in 1976, and the Correctional Treatment Facility beside it, opened in 1992, which holds everyone in the department's custody who does not identify as male. The jail holds people awaiting trial, people serving short sentences, and people waiting to be moved to federal prisons.2 Since 2013 the department has also run the Central Cell Block, where people arrested by the Metropolitan Police Department are held until they first see a judge.3
The Corrections Oversight Improvement Omnibus Amendment Act of 2022 requires the department to tell the Deputy Mayor for Public Safety and Justice, the chair of the D.C. Council's committee on corrections and the Corrections Information Council in writing within 24 hours of a death. Within three days it must post a notice on its website giving the person's name, gender, race, ethnicity and age, the date, time and place of death and the circumstances, reissue the notice once the cause and manner of death are known, and keep notices online for at least ten years. The same law requires the Corrections Information Council to publish a report on every death in a department facility within 30 days.4 The Council made these provisions take effect only once they were funded, and the D.C. Code records them as not implemented.35 In 2025 the D.C. Auditor reported that elected officials had not funded them, so the requirements are not in effect.2
The department says it follows the notification process anyway.6 Since November 2022 it has posted notices of most deaths in its newsroom, and it publishes a yearly table of the people who died in its custody, with each person's name, age, race and ethnicity, the date, time and place of death, and the cause and manner of death found by the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner.76 The tables name at least 29 people who died from January 2022 through May 2026.6 The Corrections Information Council, an independent oversight body created by Congress and the D.C. Council, inspects the jail and the federal prisons that hold D.C. residents, sends out alerts on some deaths, and counts deaths in its yearly report on the department.89
For the federal Death in Custody Reporting Act, the Office of Victim Services and Justice Grants collects the District's data. In its 2023 plan it wrote that the District "does not have a DCRA reporting law nor a website where reported deaths are listed." The Metropolitan Police Department's Central Cell Block, the Department of Corrections and the two juvenile centers of the Department of Youth Rehabilitation Services report deaths to the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, which keeps them in a password-protected spreadsheet; the grants office checks them against news and social media and uploads them to the federal government.10
The department's counts do not always match what it gives its auditors. The D.C. Auditor's review found that ten deaths of people in the department's custody were reported from July 2023 through June 2024, including one person who died at a Veterans Affairs hospital, about whom the department gave the auditors no information.2 The department's yearly tables list nine people for those months, and none of them died at a Veterans Affairs hospital.2628 The Corrections Information Council counted eight deaths in the department's fiscal year 2024, which ran from October 2023 to September 2024, the same number as the tables.928
The newsroom notices are incomplete and sometimes late. I found no notice for Larry James Watson Jr., who died in September 2023, or for Richard Durrell Holland, who died in August 2024, though both appear in the department's tables, and Stephen Bragg's death was announced nearly five months after it happened.7262823 The notices give the place and time of death and say that the medical examiner will rule on the cause; the auditor found that the department gives "minimal and inconsistent data" about deaths to the public, oversight bodies and families. One woman told the auditor's reviewers that she spent years seeking the department's report on the death of her children's father, and that the report she finally got was "missing hundreds of pages" and left out that "no one found his body for 8 hours."2
The department's own death reports, which it does not publish, show what the notices leave out. Reading them, the auditor's reviewers found that actions taken or not taken by department staff and contractors may have contributed to four of the eight deaths they examined. Officers skipped required 30-minute checks, turned off their body-worn cameras and rewrote security check logs. One officer saw a resident lying on the cell floor and did not check for signs of life; by the time anyone did, rigor mortis had set in. In the one homicide of the review year, a single officer was escorting ten residents to a medical appointment, and no one had searched the attacker. As far as the reviewers could determine, the department had never produced a report analyzing its deaths to find ways to prevent them.2