George Santos: Being Tortured, Finding God, and Hearing of Charlie Kirk’s Murder From Behind Bars

Federal Prison at FCI Fort Dix

George Santos begins by describing the conditions at FCI Fort Dix in South Jersey, where he served his time. The prison is officially classified as a medium-security institution, yet its population consists of some of the most dangerous individuals, including former gang members, violent criminals, and repeat offenders. Santos highlights the stark contrast between this environment and the public's typical conception of prison camps as white-collar refuges. Rather, the "camp" across the street, where he was held, was cramped, bare-bones, and racially segregated even down to the operation of different televisions designated by race.

This racial segregation and extreme territorialism extended beyond TV remotes to the threat of violent retribution for crossing perceived boundaries. Santos paints a grim image of the daily life there: dilapidated dormitories, constant presence of black mold, poor ventilation, and decaying facilities. The administration's neglect, spearheaded by what he describes as an unqualified and callous female warden, Lynn Kelly, contributed to hazardous living conditions including exposure to expired food and dangerous bacteria outbreaks such as ringworm and listeria.

The Kitchen and Food Conditions

Santos's role in the prison kitchen emerged as both a refuge and a lens into systemic neglect. Despite being stuck in one of the worst kitchens imaginable, rife with broken equipment, filth, and expired canned goods, he took it upon himself to raise awareness by writing critical columns for the Southshore Press from inside the prison. His efforts ultimately led to the official closure of the kitchen. However, prior to that, the kitchen represented an ongoing roulette with inmate health—gloves were provided but no proper soap, and gloves were reused or misused constantly, resulting in widespread contamination.

He also recounts how he attempted to elevate the quality of food by preparing desserts such as rice pudding and lemon cakes, a move that drew appreciation among inmates. Yet the overall sentiment was one of despair and carelessness, as many prisoners ignored hygiene measures, not fully recognizing that they too shared the consequences of the neglect. Commissary options were limited, and the culture of rationing expensive snacks like nuts and trail mix became a survival tactic in the face of inedible standard meals.

Experiences with Fellow Inmates

Though the prison housed a broad swath of offenders, Santos notes that inmates were largely extras in his personal story. The camp contained a mix of people who were not all traditional white-collar criminals, as camp populations had shifted over the years to include violent offenders with reduced custody levels. Through his interactions, he encountered a diverse group, including former campaign staffers, multi-millionaire businessmen convicted of corporate crimes, and others whose sentences and charges seemed disproportionate or arbitrary.

He observed that many inmates grew increasingly conservative and right-wing in their political views, a striking contrast to their outspoken liberalism prior to incarceration. Despite this diversity, actual meaningful communication was limited, with only a small circle of educated, savvy prisoners with whom he could connect.

Solitary Confinement

A centerpiece of Santos's harrowing narrative is his 41-day stint in solitary confinement following a non-credible threat against his life allegedly orchestrated from outside the prison. The conditions in solitary were described as torturous and dehumanizing: limited showers, wearing recycled and soiled underwear, substandard toiletries, and confinement in a small 6-by-9-foot cell with little human contact. The psychological toll was severe, driving him to write three suicide notes during his time there.

One particularly jarring moment happened when correctional officers relayed the false news of a close friend's violent death — Charlie Kirk — which plunged Santos into despair in the isolating silence. Despite repeated pleas for religious support, the warden denied him access to a Catholic Bible, rosary, or even a visit from the prison chaplain during solitary. Santos's experience in this devastating phase profoundly altered his mental and emotional state.

The Role of Religion

While in isolation and throughout his prison journey, Santos underwent a deep spiritual awakening. He grappled with his estranged faith roots, reconnecting with Catholicism during mass and confession when finally afforded the opportunity after returning to general population. The process of confession was both detailed and humbling, as he confronted his sins and sought peace.

This newfound relationship with God became a pillar that supported him through despair, helping him find resolve and a renewed sense of purpose. He described his spiritual transformation as a moment of liberation, providing clarity and grounding when everything around him was chaotic and oppressive. Religion became key to his emotional survival and outlook post-release.

Corruption Within the Prison System

Santos exposes the economic dimensions of incarceration which often escape public notice. He speaks extensively about prison supply contracts, particularly the dominance of brands like Bob Barker and Kefi, connected to powerful political families. These companies provide everything from clothing to toiletries at inflated prices, highlighting a commercial monopoly that profits from the suffering of inmates.

Santos critiques the broader system's incentives where contractors benefit financially from mass incarceration, contributing to a culture that prioritizes profits over rehabilitation or humane treatment. He speculates on the possibility of compromised judges and prosecutors further perpetuating the cycle, all embedded in a system with little transparency or accountability.

Relations with Prison Staff

His experiences with correctional officers were largely positive. Santos credits most guards—estimated at 80%—as hardworking, compassionate individuals who upheld their duties professionally and even went beyond to support him during his darkest moments. He recounts how two officers prevented him from self-harm during isolation, and how some would secretly help him maximize his limited privileges like book access.

Conversely, his greatest frustrations were with prison administration, notably the warden and assistant warden, whose mismanagement, laziness, and cruelty defined much of Santos's suffering. He points to budget excuses for neglecting basic maintenance that endangered inmates' health, contrasting egregiously with luxury purchases by the warden for personal use. This stark imbalance reflected systemic apathy rather than frontline staff behavior.

Drugs, Contraband, and Security Breaches

Contrary to common assumptions, the camp where Santos was held was mostly free of drugs, though the adjacent medium-security prison was reportedly awash with narcotics, including Suboxone, K2, and cocaine. The impossible smuggling of these substances intrigued Santos, who noted the ingenious and often illicit methods inmates employed to circumvent security.

He also talks about the scarcity and strict prohibition of items like cigarettes, vapes, and phones in prison. Just possessing contraband could bring severe penalties, including lengthy stays in solitary confinement. The systemic efforts to maintain order were met with constant challenges, illustrating the complex dynamic between control and inmate behavior.

The Impact of Threats

Santos's solitary confinement was directly linked to a threatening message uncovered by his legal team. A journalist connected to Project Veritas sent disturbing texts calling for harm against him in prison. Despite investigative conclusions deeming the threat not credible, the warden chose to place Santos in solitary "protective custody," a decision Santos views as punitive neglect that led to his near-suicidal state.

Throughout the ordeal, communication with prison leadership was confusing and contradictory, with different officials offering conflicting explanations. Legal advocacy by Santos's attorney was instrumental in accelerating his release back to the camp population and eventually his commutation. This episode exemplified the precariousness and arbitrariness inmates face at the discretion of administrators.

Life After Prison

The most astounding part of Santos's story is his unexpected release—commuted by then-President Trump after only 84 days of incarceration. This rapid turnaround came shortly after a spiritual breakthrough and intense personal resolve developed during isolation. Santos describes the emotional moment receiving the news, likening it to divine intervention.

Upon returning home, simple freedoms like a long shower became profoundly joyous. Despite the briefness of his sentence, Santos credits his prison time—painful as it was—with transforming his outlook, grounding him in faith, family values, and a commitment to live authentically. He also pays tribute to political allies and friends who supported his cause during incarceration.

Social Reflections Post-Incarceration

Since his release, Santos has grappled with the turbulent political landscape. He voices staunch support for President Trump but expresses frustration over perceived ingratitude from certain foreign leaders, particularly regarding Middle East peace processes. His time away from the media "echo chamber" gave him clarity on these complicated alliances and the challenges of diplomacy.

Furthermore, he expresses grave concern about the direction of New York City and State, especially regarding rising crime and governance under the mayor-elect Eric Adams and other local leaders. Santos plans to relocate his life and family to the South, citing deterioration in safety, governance, and economic prospects. His commentary reflects broader anxieties about urban decay and political division.

Prison Reform and Human Dignity

Throughout the discussion, Santos repeatedly voices a call for systemic reform rooted in humanity. He decries the dehumanizing conditions he witnessed and endured, arguing fervently that incarceration should aim to rehabilitate rather than merely punish. The experiences he shared put a vivid human face on abstract calls for prison reform.

He stresses the need to respect the dignity of all inmates, noting that many are in prison due in part to untreated mental health issues and systemic failures. Santos embraces a pro-life philosophy that extends beyond birth to opposing the death penalty and advocating for justice systems that restore rather than extinguish potential.