The triggers in Brandy Buckmaster’s jail cell are everywhere. The walls surrounding her, the sounds of officers walking by, the demeaning comments – it all reminds her of the prison guard who she says sexually abused her behind bars.

But one of the hardest parts about being incarcerated in Washington County jail in Oregon is knowing that the courts are treating her like a criminal while the man she accuses of victimizing her lives in the free world.

The only reason the 41-year-old woman is locked up is because she’s a “material witness” in the state’s case against the former guard, Brian Balzer, and prosecutors are afraid she won’t show up to testify.

As a result, Buckmaster has been confined for more than a month to a correctional institution much like the site of her past sexual trauma.

Balzer, meanwhile, is out on bail.

“I feel like I’m being punished for what he did to me,” she said during a recent jailhouse interview, tears streaming down her face. “I get traumatized every day.”

But when Buckmaster’s lawyers recently tried to have her released, prosecutors refused to back down, arguing in court that she was “complicit” in the sexual “relationship”.

Brian Balzer, guard at the Washington County jail in Oregon, faces prosecution by the state for sexual misconduct and supplying contraband. Photograph: YouTube





‘He was in a position of power’

Talking publicly for the first time since her case made headlines, Buckmaster told the Guardian she wanted to speak out in the hopes that it might help other women who have faced sexual violence and discourage law enforcement from jailing victims.

“I feel like [prosecutors] have victimized me as much as he has,” she said.

Speaking through a thick glass wall in a 4ft-by-4ft visitation room and dressed in an orange prison uniform, Buckmaster said she barely had enough money in her jail account to call her boyfriend or purchase hygiene products from the commissary, and the district attorney’s office hasn’t offered help. Prosecutors have also publicly named her in court documents, instead of protecting her privacy. The Guardian does not usually identify victims of sexual assault.

After growing up in Washington state, Buckmaster moved to Portland, Oregon, when she was 13, she said. She has been in and out of prison over the last two decades for a range of nonviolent offenses stemming from her struggle with drug addiction.

She said she was a survivor of child sex abuse, and explained that it had had a lasting impact on her relationships.

In 2012, at Coffee Creek, the only state prison for women in Oregon, Buckmaster met Balzer, a 42-year-old guard who she said repeatedly coerced her into sex and exploited her until her release in 2014. She spent some of her sentence in the prison’s mental health unit, records show.



“He was in a position of power … and took advantage of someone who wasn’t mentally stable,” said Buckmaster, adding that her past abuse made her vulnerable to his advances. “I didn’t have anybody.”

According to the Washington County district attorney’s office, Balzer “engaged in sexual conduct” with Buckmaster and gave her perfume samples, and the abuse only came to light after she was released, when she mentioned the “relationship” to a staff member at a facility where she was living.

Prosecutors charged Balzer with felonies of custodial sexual misconduct and supplying contraband. Buckmaster testified in front of a grand jury last year, and Balzer was indicted in November. On the day of his arrest, he posted $2,000 bail and was let go.



By law, there is no such thing as consensual sex between guards and inmates since staff have complete control over the lives of prisoners. Any sexual activity is considered criminal.

“The inmates have no power,” said Betsy Rawls, Buckmaster’s lawyer. “If they deny [sexual advances], they’re going to have to see them every day.”

Buckmaster said she was desperate for a sense of safety and comfort in prison and that it took her time after her release to realize how Balzer had manipulated her.

“I’m tired of blaming myself for somebody else’s actions,” she said.

Buckmaster recently struggled with relapse, and when her parole officer and other law enforcement officers allegedly had trouble locating her, deputy district attorney Dan Hesson requested a so-called “material witness warrant” for her. Prosecutors wanted her in custody until trial.

Buckmaster said she had been making progress in her recovery and had always planned to participate in the trial. But her promises didn’t matter. Washington County circuit judge Charles Bailey approved prosecutors’ request, and on 16 August, she returned to jail.

A ‘perverse’ use of jail

Criminal justice reform activists have fought back against the detention of material witnesses, arguing that it is unjust to imprison people who are not accused of crimes. By law, the holds are only supposed to be used in extraordinary circumstances as a last resort, and advocates argue that it is particularly cruel to detain witnesses who are victims.

“This is a perverse way of using our criminal justice system and using our jails,” said Julia Yoshimoto, program director of the Oregon Justice Resource Center’s Women in Prison Project.

Buckmaster and her attorneys have said she would show up for trial and would be willing to wear an ankle bracelet and also complete a deposition in advance.

But Hesson, the deputy district attorney, said jailing her was the only feasible option.

Citing the fact that Buckmaster contacted Balzer after she was released, Hesson claimed in a filing that she was “complicit in perpetuating the illicit relationship between she and the defendant”. He further claimed that “Ms Buckmaster has led a life of crime” and “wasted considerable public resources” when prosecutors were unable to locate her.

Brent Goodfellow, another attorney representing Buckmaster, scoffed at the claim: “It’s expensive for Washington County to house her.”

“I don’t want to run,” Buckmaster said. “He’s going to pay for what happened … If I have to be accountable for my actions and for my past, he has to be accountable for his.”

Balzer’s attorney declined to comment.

Reached by phone, Hesson confirmed that his office had not provided Buckmaster with any victim support services while she was in jail. He also repeatedly declined to comment on whether prosecutors considered her a “victim”.

“It is a terrible idea that she is in jail,” Hesson said, “but I can’t find a better alternative.”

Counting the days

Advocates said they were concerned that the Balzer case could have a chilling effect on victims reporting sexual violence in prisons – especially in Oregon, which has a documented history of problems.



At Coffee Creek, at least eight employees have been convicted of sexual misconduct cases involving inmates since 2004, according to the Oregonian. The paper reported that the state has paid $1.2m to 17 victims who said prison employees abused them.

Studies have also shown that, like Buckmaster, many who get caught up in the criminal justice system have histories of trauma – nearly six in 10 women in state prisons have previously experienced physical or sexual abuse.

“The system often retraumatizes them,” said Emily Austin, director of advocacy services for the California Coalition Against Sexual Assault.

These days, Buckmaster said, she struggles to cope when she feels triggered or depressed. She said she has dreams of building a treehouse with her boyfriend, living somewhere serene and quiet, starting a family, and is counting the days until the trial, scheduled for 4 October.

Often, though, she just paces back and forth in her cell.