Texas prisons are shedding officers with a staggering 28 percent turnover rate in the last fiscal year, a "mass exodus" that some experts say stems from a strengthening economy and recovering oil and gas sector.

"A lot of these guys don't want to work in a prison," said Lance Lowry, a spokesman for the Huntsville-based Texas Correctional Employees union. "There's other job opportunities opening up in rural Texas."

Data from the Texas State Auditor's Office show a marked increase over the previous year, when 22.8 percent of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice's roughly 26,000 officers left for other jobs. At the same time, department vacancy rates have crept up again to over 12 percent, with 3,207 jobs unfilled.

"When the economy is doing well and growing is typically when we see correctional officers leave for better paying jobs," said TDCJ spokesman Jason Clark. "The more rural areas tend to be more challenging, particularly in South Texas when we've seen an uptick in oil and gas jobs being offered."

But in 2017, with the oil and gas boom largely in the rearview mirror, that doesn't explain the whole picture.

"From 2012 to 2014, [turnover] was becoming pretty acute and especially where fracking was kind of big," said Scott Henson, policy director with the nonprofit Just Liberty. Then, "it was more than just a vague correlation."

Five years ago, the McConnell and Connally units — both in counties that lie partially on the Eagle Ford Shale — had just over 40 percent vacancy, according to Business & Finance Division data.

Now, the southeast region of the state — which is far from the currently most active oil and gas fields — is experiencing rising officer turnover rates close to 37 percent, the highest in Texas.

TDCJ facilities in Jefferson and Liberty counties saw turnover rates of 36 and 31 percent, respectively, according to data from the Texas State Auditor's Office, which is broken down by region and county but not by facility.

"Some of it just could be the local economy growing that tends to pull away from TDCJ," Clark said. Over the past five years, staffing shortages forced the department to mothball about 1,900 beds, according to TDCJ numbers.

"I believe in most instances we put the prisons in all the wrong places," said Sen. John Whitmire, D-Houston, chair of the Texas Senate's criminal justice committee. "Some are located in communities that don't even have housing available for the corrections officers."

County-by-county numbers show that staffing challenges can be highly localized and specific, as in the Texas Panhandle. Hartley and Dallam counties are not in an area particularly known for oil and gas, but a cheese factory in Dalhart has typically pulled away would-be prison workers, Henson said.

In fiscal 2017, TDCJ facilities in Hartley County had a 59 percent turnover rate, one of only three counties over the 50 percent mark.

The other two — Mitchell and Dawson counties — are in the oil-rich Permian Basin.

"Whether people will work in prisons depends on hyperlocal economic conditions," Henson said. "A prison is someplace that you work as a job of last resort."

But in some regions, staffing levels seem to be doing just fine. The Upper Rio Grande and South Texas Border regions had less than 15 percent turnover.

"That tends to be a more stable workforce along the border," Clark said.

Lured by better wages

For officers on the job, high turnover can raise safety concerns when many of the employees are new.

"When you lose 20-some percent of your employees every year, it's hard," Lowry said.

One of the challenges in staffing Texas prisons is the low wages. Officer pay starts at around $32,000 per year, with increases at three and nine months. After seven years, pay plateaus at $43,000.

"If you want the staff to stay — and having experienced staff is critical for effective prison operations — then the pay has to increase significantly," said Michele Deitch, a senior lecturer at the LBJ School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas at Austin.

Whitmire concurred, pointing out other potential troubles that stem from low income offerings.

"The low pay is a problem in terms of the increase in contraband," he said. "I was told this by a warden – they've caught correctional officers making more in selling contraband cigarettes than they're making from the state."

Unlike in some other states, such as California and New York, Texas jailers are not certified peace officers, which means they're not eligible for the more generous Schedule C pay scale.

"Texas correctional officers are treated no better than most security guards," Lowry said. In the Golden State, where prison guards are certified peace officers, vacancy rates hover around 3 percent, according to a California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation spokesman.

Staffing bonuses

To bolster its workforce, TDCJ has begun offering daily pre-employment tests, accelerated pay schedules for some workers, more part-time jobs and various job fairs.

They've also started offering $4,000 recruitment bonuses at 25 units particularly hard-hit by staffing problems.

Among those is the Polunsky Unit, which houses death row.

Although the department has rebuffed such claims, last month Lowry blamed insufficient staffing for a bizarre death row confession plot that saw two inmates' execution dates pushed back.

"This was definitely a security breakdown," he said at the time, adding that Texas prisons have more inmates per officer than other large states like New York and California.

In the Empire State, staffing ratios hover around a 1-to-3 officer-to-inmate target, according to a New York State Department of Corrections and Community Supervision spokesman. According to California data, ratios there are closer to 1-to-5.

But comparing different prison systems with different populations, crime trends, and facility structures is "comparing apples to oranges," Clark said. "We don't staff based on ratios."

When a given unit is understaffed, jailers can shut down non-essential activities, bring in staff from other facilities and authorize overtime. For each of the last three years, officers worked more than 2 million overtime hours, a significant increase over the lower vacancy years before, according TDCJ data.

"The state really never invested in this as being a profession," Lowry said. "You shouldn't have a workplace where that many employees are leaving."