At 4:50 p.m. on May 25, 2024, a security camera in a Hutchins State Jail dorm catches Jackie Wiley standing in his white jumpsuit at the back of the large communal room he shares with dozens of other men. The 52-year-old Dallas native, known around the lockup for his bubbly humor, is talking with others sitting on a bottom bunk. Suddenly, his legs start shaking—to some, it looks as though he’s been struck by lightning. He teeters and falls, hitting the concrete floor.
Ninety seconds pass before a nearby prisoner jumps down from the top bunk and grabs Wiley by the torso, pulling him closer to a large fan. It’s a hot afternoon, with temperatures reaching 92 degrees outside, and there’s no air-conditioning here. Some men gather around Wiley—who has a history of seizures and asthma but visited the infirmary only 27 hours earlier and seemed healthy—as he rolls onto his stomach and begins to vomit. Two more minutes pass. When Wiley continues struggling to breathe, several people bang on the doors and windows, shouting, “He’s down!”
A fellow inmate, who’s on custodial duty in a nearby dorm, and a guard respond. The prisoner begins CPR. Another bystander clears out Wiley’s mouth to help him breathe, as his face turns purple.
