The Risks and Costs

I do not wish to romanticize the reality of cell phone possession in prison. The risks are substantial, and anyone who assists a prisoner in obtaining a phone should understand them clearly.

One of my own phones was stolen from a hidden compartment inside a television set—an ingenious hiding place that nonetheless proved insufficient against the constant predation of the prison environment. Replacement was expensive: 150,000 to 250,000 Chilean pesos (roughly $160 to $270 USD), purchased from corrupt gendarmes (guards) who were simultaneously tasked with confiscating the very devices they sold. The hypocrisy of this arrangement was not lost on anyone. Guards who confiscated phones from inmates in módulo (cell-block) inspections would sell those same phones—or new ones—to other inmates in other cell blocks the following week. The entire system operated on a foundation of corruption so brazen that it would be comical if its consequences were not so severe. On average, I had my cell phone confiscated in a raid or stolen by other inmates once every six months. Sometimes a cell phone lasted over a year; other times, I went through three of them in under five months. Supporters grew accustomed to footing the bill for frequent replacements, and guards grew fond of making multiple sales to the same inmate within a year.

The scale of cell phone use in American prisons confirms that it is not a marginal phenomenon. Georgia Department of Corrections officials seized and processed more than 15,500 contraband cell phones in 2024 alone—and this figure represents only those found, excluding those intentionally overlooked by paid-off or sympathetic guards.7 Research by the Urban Institute and other independent investigators estimates that roughly one in four inmates nationwide has access to a contraband cell phone at any given time.8 In Chile, the rate is much higher. Indeed, even the poorest cellmates get to use others’ cell phones for an hour a day, as I saw at Rancagua Penitentiary, and to a slightly lesser extent in Valparaíso Penitentiary. Sometimes, even when I did not have my own phone, others would lend me theirs because I fed them “home-cooked” food. I also indirectly paid for their use (renting them to others outright is frowned upon in jail) by putting money on their owners’ prepaid plans.

The U.S.A.’s Cellphone Jamming Reform Act of 2025 (S. 1137 / H.R. 2350), introduced by Senators Cotton, Lankford, and others on March 26, 2025, represents the latest legislative effort to permit state correctional facilities to operate jamming equipment under FCC oversight—a practice currently prohibited under the Communications Act of 1934.9 But jammers can be switched off soon after they are proven to be effective. Guards are interned for days (or sometimes over a week) with the prisoners in Chile, and they do not want to lose the use of their cell phones, thus preferring to switch off the machine. Plus, many guards want hardened criminals to use their cell phones to distribute drugs outside or run extortion and blackmail schemes that provide income that can subsequently be spent on the drugs that some guards offer. Some guards are also sympathetic to the plight of prisoners who cannot speak to loved ones outside, especially on children’s birthdays or other special dates. Hence, there is little incentive to block cell phone reception in prisons. Anyone who thinks that guards and other prison employees blindly follow cell phone blocking public policy to promote the public interest over personal interests is quickly disabused of such notions once they have lived inside a prison for a few months.

With the advanced phone call monitoring now likely possible with artificial intelligence, there should be a cost-effective way to flag phone calls and users engaging in fraud, extortion, and blackmail. Instead of jamming everyone, perpetrators could be detected, making the public happy, while the benefits of having a licit cell phone accrue to honest prisoners who use communication for good purposes. The fact that this technology is not used in prisons, over time, will indicate what anyone in prison already knows: the guards and perhaps others do not want fraud and other crimes to stop because of the indirect benefits they receive from prisoners. Having a lot of money in their external bank accounts allows them to fund purchases to the guards’ designated accounts. The funds never have to enter the prison walls. Therefore, do not hold your breath, thinking that the guards and others in authority will rush to deploy high-tech measures to curb such misuse of cell phones.

The lesson is straightforward: prohibition does not eliminate cell phone use in prisons. It merely drives it underground, raises prices, enriches “corrupt” officials (whom I came to term as “blessed” more than corrupt over my time in jail), and criminalizes behavior that, in many cases, involves nothing more than a father calling his daughter or a believer joining a prayer meeting. It is a shame that Christians beholden to a revitalized Divine Right of Kings view have sided with the state to uphold public policies that damage their obligations to honor parents, love wives, seek employment and provide income, teach children, love their neighbors as themselves, facilitate greater study of the Bible, other subjects, and learn foreign languages, and to attend the worship of God. Sadly, they are self-righteous but in effect only promote greater sin in society and damage innocent prisoners who suffer unjustly and prevent Christian prisoners from fulfilling their obligations to God.

A Practical Ethic for Christian Involvement

How, then, should the Christian navigate this terrain? I propose a framework grounded in biblical principles and practical wisdom.

First, the purpose matters. Christians should assist prisoners in obtaining and using cell phones for purposes consistent with biblical obligations: worship, communication with family and friends, legal defense, Bible and other study, work, and access to spiritual resources. Christians should not assist in providing phones for criminal activity—drug coordination, witness intimidation, fraud, or any other purpose that violates God’s moral law. The distinction between legitimate and illegitimate use is the same distinction that applies to every technology in every context: the tool is morally neutral; the use determines its moral character. Accordingly, cell phone purchases should be reserved for disciples who have proven to be faithful in following the Lord, attending studies, and have a reputation among the other prisoners for doing good.

Second, discernment is required. Not every inmate who requests a phone intends to use it for legitimate purposes. The minister or church member who provides communication assistance must exercise the same judgment that governs all acts of Christian charity: help those who genuinely need help, verify when possible, and accept that some degree of risk is inherent in any act of mercy. “Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Generally, this rule means that prison ministries should not provide cell phone funding for unbelievers and casual attenders of in-prison and online services.

Third, advocacy is essential. The church should not merely circumvent unjust regulations; it should work to change them. Christians should publicly advocate for legitimate communication access in prisons—expanded visiting hours, affordable phone rates, video conferencing with families, and access to religious services and educational resources through tablets and other devices. The goal is not merely permanent civil disobedience but the correction of an unjust system. When the system is corrected, the need for disobedience disappears. However, to be frank, the likelihood of reform in favor of cell phone use is unlikely because too many parties are interested in keeping it illegal, particularly the guards.

Fourth, the risks must be accepted with open eyes. Providing a cell phone to a prisoner may violate the “law,” and detection may result in criminal charges against the bringer, but most likely they will merely receive a slap on the wrist or a month or two of loss of visitation rights, rather than being reported to other authorities. Remember that guards need prisoners to have visitors so they can bring them money, which, in turn, is partly spent on the contraband that guards sell. Thus, they have little incentive to curtail visitation, even to those visitors who try to undercut their cell phone business. The Christian who undertakes such direct action must do so as the Hebrew midwives did, as Rahab did, as Daniel did—knowingly, deliberately, and in full reliance on the God who judges righteously. This is not a decision to be made casually or sentimentally. It is a decision to be made prayerfully, with full awareness of both the biblical warrant and the earthly consequences. In my experience, it is better to simply smuggle in more money for the imprisoned disciple and let them pay higher prices by buying cell phones through the mozo or guards. The risk is far lower (no ban for bringing too much money, and no risk of criminal penalties). More money flowing into the prison makes the guards and others, including criminal lawyers, happier, so they can milk beleaguered prisoners, who get the goods and services they need. Hence, it is a win-win proposition with much less risk than saving money by bringing in a phone. Smaller accessories like earbuds or SIM cards are a different matter. If there is a good way to hide such things and get them to the disciples, doing so might make sense.

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