Every day, Joseph McKinney, Joseph Sevilla and Sal Almanza wake up around 4 a.m. and eat breakfast at the base camp at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena before heading to the San Gabriel Mountains, home to one of the most destructive fires in Los Angeles. District History.
Their firefighting duties, assigned each day by their captains, may include containment work, structural protection, or clearing dry vegetation to try to prevent the spread of fire. The men work 12- or 24-hour shifts, and if they work the latter, they get the next day off to recuperate at base camp.
McKinney, Sevilla and Almanza perform all the same duties as other first responders, except they are professional firefighters. All three are incarcerated at Fenner Canyon Conservation Camp 41, a medium-security prison in Valerimo, an unincorporated part of LA County in the Antelope Valley, that houses people convicted of crimes such as arson, robbery and assault.
The men are part of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation's Safety Fire Camps program, which operates 35 fire camps across the state. Participants respond to natural disasters such as wildfires and floods. When they're not responding to emergencies, they help maintain parks and help shovel sand.
As of Friday, more than 1,100 incarcerated firefighters were battling the Palisades and Eaton fires. At least 27 people and has become one of the costliest natural disasters in US history. Historically, incarcerated firefighters have made up 30% of the California wildfire force.

Incarcerated firefighters at Fenner Canyon Conservation Camp 41 earn $5.80 to $10.24 a day, and $1 an hour through Cal Fire during serious emergencies.
(Pedro Calderón Michel)
“We're not used to seeing this level of damage,” McKinney said. “We're not used to seeing that because we're usually out in wildfire situations where the mountains are burning. But this was devastating to see because there was so much loss here.
The men initially joined the program to shave some time off their sentences — they would receive one or two days of credit for each day's work, depending on their sentence. But some of them said that after they joined, the job was rewarding and they had the chance to pursue a viable career path after they were released.
Almanza first tried to pursue a career in firefighting a decade ago, but it didn't suit him.
“I thought, how funny it is that I ended up in a situation I wanted to be in a long time ago,” the 42-year-old said. “It's come full circle.”
Before Sevilla, 23, was incarcerated, he held jobs ranging from working at a biotech company to working at fast-food restaurants. He plans to pursue a career in wildland firefighting after his release.
“I fell in love with it,” he said. “You have to be out here in the wilderness. You have to be outside and move around. So in addition to being healthy and getting that physical exercise, you get a mental workout knowing you're giving back to the community and doing something good for people.
Working on the front lines hits close to home for McKinney. The 44-year-old lived in Old Town Pasadena above the Crown City Pawn Shop. He recalls a moment when they were fighting a fire at the Mount Wilson Observatory, and he looked out at all the black smoke and wondered if the fire would ever stop.
More than anything else, the men say they are grateful for the community's support.
“It's very positive for us psychologically,” McKinney said. “At times when you're in prison, you can feel isolated, you can feel like you're out of society or out of society. It shows that even from this position we're in, we can still make a big impact.
To qualify for the program, participants must have eight years or less of a sentence remaining, be physically and mentally fit for duty, and have convictions for arson, rape, and sexual assault. and not be convicted of certain charges, such as a history of absconding.
The plan has faced criticism, mainly because of the wages jailed firefighters earn — $5.80 to $10.24 a day, and $1 an hour by Call Fire during active emergencies. The program has also been criticized for associated health risks and the perception that it exploits firefighters for “forced labor”.

From left: Joseph McKinney, Joseph Sevilla, Sal Almanza.
(Pedro Calderón Michel)
It says incarcerated workers are more likely to be injured than professional firefighters Research from the ACLU and the University of Chicago Law School. According to the ACLU report, at least four incarcerated firefighters died on the front lines, and over a five-year period, more than 1,000 required hospital care.
The path to becoming a firefighter after prison is unclear. For example, municipal firefighting jobs may be difficult to obtain because they require EMT certification—something felons are barred from obtaining. Under California law.
In 2020, Governor Newsom signed it Assembly Bill 2147 To help clear the criminal records of non-violent offenders who participated in the firefighting program. Assemblyman Isaac Bryan (D-Los Angeles) introduced it recently AB 247Paying incarcerated firefighters a much lower wage would give non-incarcerated firefighters a raise.
Proponents of the program emphasize that participation is voluntary and that it provides future career opportunities for inmates. The incarcerated firefighters have gone to work with Cal Fire, the U.S. Forest Service and other hotshot crews, the Department of Corrections said. Cal Fire partnered with the Department of Corrections, the California Conservation Corps and the Anti-Recidivism Coalition to create an 18-month training and certification program. Ventura Training Center.
When they're not fighting fires, the men spend their downtime at base camp resting, eating, showering and doing laundry. They are able to make phone calls to their friends and family from a shared phone – something that is not yet possible when they are on the front line of the fire.
But corrections officials say they are evaluating new technology to allow men to bring mobile devices to make calls while fighting fires.
Firefighters can stay at fires for weeks at a time, making it difficult to communicate with their loved ones. Almanza was recently able to call her 12-year-old son, whose birthday is in two days.
“I have to tell him before I leave that I love him and that I might not be able to wish him a happy birthday,” she said.

Prison inmates retreat to heavy brush on Madera Road as firefighters try to keep the Easy Fire from crossing the road in Thousand Oaks, Calif., on October 30, 2019.
(Brian van der Broek/Los Angeles Times)
There's the LA-based Anti-Restructuring Coalition Started fundraising The effort to support incarcerated firefighters raised more than $40,000 Friday, according to executive director Sam Lewis.
“The beautiful thing about this terrible tragedy is the unity it has created throughout Los Angeles County,” Lewis said. “People have lost so much in these two fires.”
The money goes toward food, toiletries, gear and replacing a shower facility at one of the camps, Lewis said. The rest of the money goes into inmate commissary accounts or scholarship funds for formerly incarcerated firefighters.
“It's a way for the public to say we appreciate you putting yourself in harm's way to protect our property,” Lewis said. “Really, they're fighting this fire, it's taken a lot out of a lot of people.”