Editor’s note: This commentary reflects the author’s professional analysis of publicly reported incidents, court filings and official statements. Details may evolve as investigations and legal proceedings continue.
As we look back on the year in escapes, one truth stands out: nothing erodes public trust faster. Among all the duties we carry, the most basic and the most consequential is keeping dangerous offenders confined.
In 2025, there were at least 13 major escape incidents across the United States. They ranged from a 10-inmate jailbreak in New Orleans, where fugitives mocked staff by scrawling “To Easy LoL” on the wall, to a North Carolina medical transport that cost Detention Officer Francisco Flattes his life. The consequences extended beyond U.S. borders. Mexican police commander Abigail Esparza Reyes was killed during an arrest operation in Tijuana involving a California escapee. As of this writing, two violent offenders remain at large, one for nearly a year.
This was not a year of Ocean’s Eleven-style brilliance or elaborate Hollywood plots. It was a year marked by complacency. Investigations and court records describe staff leaving posts unattended, inmate counts going unverified for hours, high-risk offenders housed in low-security locations, and contractors leaving materials accessible to inmates. In facility after facility, the same patterns emerged: routine replaced critical thinking, convenience took precedence over security and dangerous assumptions filled the gaps where proper procedures should have been.
Let’s examine what 2025’s escapes teach us about security in corrections.
The big three: New Orleans, Arkansas and St. Landry
The New Orleans jailbreak on May 16 exemplifies nearly every complacency failure in the book. Ten inmates, six charged with murder or attempted murder, exploited defective cell locks to force their way into a target cell. Once inside, they removed a toilet fixture and broke through the crumbling infrastructure behind it. They used stolen blankets to scale the barbed wire perimeter fence and crossed Interstate 10 to freedom.
The timeline tells the real story. Inmates escaped at 1:01 a.m. but were not discovered missing until the 8:30 a.m. headcount. Seven and a half hours of freedom because no deputy was physically present on the pod, and a civilian monitor had “stepped away to get food.” Even worse, that monitor reportedly witnessed the escape on camera but did not report it. This is the complacency of convenience and the complacency of routine working in deadly combination.
The aftermath revealed an even more disturbing picture. Twenty-six people were ultimately charged in connection with the escape: the 10 inmates plus 16 accomplices. A jail maintenance worker had turned off the water in cells to help inmates remove the toilet. Multiple jail employees were suspended. Friends and family provided transportation, money and shelter. One inmate remained on the run for 149 days before being captured in Atlanta. The last fugitive, Derrick Groves, was not recaptured until October 8.
But here is the kicker: Antoine Massey, one of the escapees, was on his fourth escape since 2007. He had cut off GPS monitors twice before. His entire history screamed “escape risk,” yet staff housed him on the first floor. That is not a policy failure, that is confirmation bias and institutional complacency. Somebody saw a compliant inmate instead of a predator waiting for his moment.
In Arkansas, former Gateway police chief Grant Hardin, serving time for murder and rape, spent six months planning his escape from the North Central Unit. He exploited kitchen access to prepare, disguised himself as a prison employee and walked through a sally port on May 25 during heavy rain. Staff did not discover him missing for 15 to 20 minutes, giving him a crucial head start in terrain he knew intimately. He remained free for 12 days before being recaptured and transferred to Arkansas’ only supermax facility.
The Arkansas Department of Corrections’ own review concluded it was “staff failure, not policy.” That is the complacency of emotional familiarity. Long-term inmates become trusted, and verification becomes mechanical. Multiple employees were disciplined, but the damage was done.
St. Landry Parish Jail in Louisiana suffered its third escape in roughly a year when three inmates broke out on December 3 by removing mortar and concrete blocks from a deteriorating upper wall. They used bedsheets to scale down, drop to a first-floor roof and lower themselves to freedom. One escapee died by suicide during a standoff. One was recaptured. Keith Eli, charged with attempted second-degree murder, remains at large as of this writing.
The facility dispute tells you everything about institutional complacency. Sheriff Bobby Guidroz points to crumbling infrastructure and contractors who left extension cords and rope accessible to inmates. Parish President Jessie Bellard claims the jail is structurally sound and blames inadequate staffing, one deputy managing more than 100 inmates on night shifts. The truth is that both are right, and both are symptoms of accepting dangerous conditions as normal operations. When the pay is $18 to $20 an hour, and you are competing with Walmart for staff, when politicians argue over engineer reports while inmates are literally removing walls, you have normalized failure.
Transport tragedies
June 30, 2025, should be burned into every correctional professional’s memory. Detention Officer Francisco Paul Flattes, a 56-year-old four-year veteran with the Cherokee County Sheriff’s Office in North Carolina, was escorting federal inmate Kelvin Simmons to a medical appointment. Simmons had attempted escape just eight months earlier, in October 2024. Two officers were assigned, supposedly enhanced security for a known risk.
During a scuffle at the orthopedic office, Simmons overpowered both officers and shot Officer Flattes with his own weapon. Simmons then carjacked a vehicle and fled, leading to a multi-county chase before his capture. Officer Flattes died at the scene. His wife worked at the same detention center. His son-in-law serves as a deputy sheriff.
The second transport tragedy had international implications. Cesar Hernandez, serving 80 years to life for murder, jumped from a transport van at a Kern County courthouse on December 2, 2024. Despite being in leg and waist restraints, he evaded staff and disappeared. Four months later, on April 9, 2025, Mexican authorities located him in Tijuana. During the arrest operation, Hernandez shot and killed Commander Abigail Esparza Reyes, a 33-year-old mother of two who led the elite “Gringo Hunters” unit responsible for tracking foreign fugitives. She had conducted more than 400 successful operations during her 11-year career.
Hernandez was captured eight days later, but the damage was done. An American escapee killed a Mexican law enforcement officer because we could not keep him in a van long enough to get him into a courthouse.
The complacency breakdown: What went wrong
After analyzing these incidents through the lens of my book, “Killing Complacency,” several patterns emerge with disturbing frequency.
Count failures: Four major escapes involved significant gaps between the actual escape and discovery. New Orleans leads at more than seven hours, but even Arkansas’ 15- to 20-minute gap gave Hardin a critical head start. Oklahoma’s Clara Waters Correctional Facility did not notice William Brainard’s walkaway from a work detail for several hours. The complacency of routine turns counts into checkmarks instead of actual accountability.
Access control failures: Staff repeatedly allowed inmates into areas or provided access to materials that enabled escapes. Hardin’s kitchen access enabled six months of planning. New Orleans inmates were assigned to cells with known structural defects. St. Landry’s contractors left equipment accessible. In each case, deadly assumptions replaced actual risk assessment.
Search failures: How did New Orleans inmates obtain electric hair clippers, steal blankets and use Scrabble tiles to jam locks without anyone noticing? How did North Carolina’s John Matthew Nigh remove ceiling grating, access utility chases and have his cellmates prepare a stuffed mattress to conceal his absence? The answer is the complacency of routine. Searches became perfunctory, something to get through rather than actual security measures.
Classification errors: The data does not lie. Antoine Massey, four escapes since 2007, on the first floor. Kelvin Simmons, an escape attempt eight months prior, transported with only two officers. John Matthew Nigh, who shot at deputies six months earlier, housed where ceiling access was possible. Each represents confirmation bias overriding clear risk indicators.
Infrastructure neglect: “To Easy LoL” says it all. When inmates are mocking you on their way out, when they can literally remove walls over time without detection, when three facilities in one year suffer escapes through deteriorating infrastructure, you have moved beyond maintenance issues into institutional complacency.
Conclusion
Two law enforcement officers are dead. Two violent fugitives remain at large. Twenty-six people were charged in a single escape. Inmates in multiple facilities planned and executed escapes over weeks or months while staff watched without seeing.
The 2026 escapes are being planned right now. The only question is whether we will recognize and address the complacency before it is too late.
This is not about sophisticated criminals. It is about complacency.
