Kingston’s prison drug site sees minimal use after 18 months, with only one inmate utilizing the supervised consumption service amid safety and trust concerns.
Pioneering Program Sees Low Inmate Participation
KINGSTON, ONT. — Eighteen months after its launch, a supervised drug consumption site at Collins Bay Institution in Kingston has seen just a single inmate use the service, despite efforts to promote it as a harm-reduction measure inside Ontario’s federal prison system.
The site opened on November 28, 2023, as Ontario’s first prison-based overdose prevention service (OPS) and the third in Canada. Designed to allow prisoners to consume illicit substances under medical supervision, the program was intended to reduce overdose risks and limit contraband paraphernalia like used needles in prison cells.
Safety Concerns and Social Pressures Among Barriers
Despite its intentions, the OPS has struggled to build inmate trust. Only five inmates have applied and been approved to use the site, and just one has done so — only a handful of times since April.
Prison health manager Matthew Secord described the initial visit as “surreal,” acknowledging the bravery required to be the first. Yet, he also cited ongoing stigma and fear among inmates as significant barriers, noting the OPS represents a “fundamental change” in addiction support inside correctional facilities.
Inmates Fear Exposure and Retaliation
A former Collins Bay inmate, speaking anonymously, said inmates are hesitant to use the OPS due to fear of exposure, both to correctional officers and fellow prisoners. “If you’re a dealer, you don’t want someone going to a place monitored by guards. It draws attention,” he explained, noting that being associated with drug use can risk parole or trigger punitive action.
Concerns over confidentiality persist, despite assurances from Correctional Service Canada (CSC) that visits to the site are private and won’t impact parole reviews.
Staffing Limits and Operational Hours Curb Usage
Another challenge is the site’s limited daytime hours. Many inmates prefer to avoid drug use during working hours, programs, or meetings with parole officers. They’d rather consume substances in the evening — a time slot the OPS currently doesn’t cover due to staffing constraints.
According to Lynne Leonard, a retired epidemiology professor who evaluated the site, these limitations make the service practically unusable for many. “The hours just don’t align with when inmates would typically use,” she said.
Drug Preferences Shifting to Crystal Meth
Another issue is a shift in inmates’ drug preferences. Leonard notes that crystal meth, which is typically smoked, has overtaken fentanyl in popularity — but OPS protocols only allow for injection, ingestion, or snorting.
“Meth use isn’t accommodated,” Leonard said, adding that smoking isn’t permitted at any OPS in Canadian prisons. The change in drug trends may partially explain the site’s near-total lack of activity, though fewer overdose incidents have also been reported since the OPS opened — dropping from 23 in 2022–23 to zero in the past year.
Future Uncertain Amid Calls for Change
The program has cost $517,000 since inception, with funding covering staffing, equipment, and operational expenses. Despite its low usage, CSC and harm-reduction advocates continue to support the model, citing its potential for long-term impact if key issues can be addressed.
Suggestions for improvement include relocating the OPS away from the health unit to improve privacy, expanding service hours, or modifying policies to include safe smoking options for meth users.
“We’re still trying to engage inmates and make the service feel safe,” said Secord. “There’s no punishment for using it — but the stigma is real.”
Leonard agrees the model has promise but insists real progress hinges on rebuilding trust. “The idea is good. But if inmates feel this will hurt their parole or paint a target on them, they won’t come.”
Balancing Harm Reduction and Rehabilitation
The debate continues over whether supervised drug use belongs inside institutions focused on rehabilitation. The former inmate put it plainly: “It has to feel like it’s about saving lives, not surveillance. Otherwise, no one’s going to use it.”
For now, Collins Bay’s supervised drug site remains open — and largely unused — as prison authorities grapple with the delicate task of encouraging participation while maintaining safety, privacy, and inmate trust.