A Hard Look at the Bahamas’ Most Notorious Human Rights Scandal
When most people hear “Bahamas,” they think of rum punch, coral reefs, and five-star resorts. But just miles from this tourist façade lies something darker: a prison so cruel and archaic, it could be lifted straight from the pages of a Cold War political thriller.
Welcome to Fox Hill Prison in Nassau – a facility that pretends to be a correctional institution, but in practice functions more like a state-sanctioned torture site.
Most cells in Fox Hill’s notorious “remand block” have no windows. Only a metal-barred door faces the hallway – through which light, air, and noise seep in. There is no privacy. No ventilation. No natural light. Yet paradoxically, fluorescent ceiling lights are left on 24 hours a day, depriving inmates of any true sleep cycle and contributing to severe psychological trauma.
The cells, measuring roughly the size of a bathroom stall, were originally built for one person. Today, up to five men are crammed inside, forced to sleep on the bare concrete floor, with no bedding, no mattress, and sometimes not even enough room to lie flat. They must defecate into a used paint bucket, covered with a plastic lid, which is emptied only once per day – regardless of heat, illness, or dignity.
Urination happens in bottles. Washing is done with a splash of stale water in another reused bucket. There are no working sinks, no toilets, no water connection, despite claims by officials that improvements have been made.
Fox Hill is not just overcrowded – it is intentionally dehumanizing.
No access to books, radios, or education.
No psychological care. No social workers. No legal support.
A chaplain who rarely appears.
No daylight – unless it doesn’t rain – when prisoners are allowed outside for 20 minutes, twice per week.
During this brief window, they are also expected to shower, usually under a cold water pipe, with no privacy or hygiene products.
Razor blades and shaving are banned. Haircuts are rare. Prisoners go months without the chance to groom themselves unless they are lucky enough to be called for a “barber day.” Sanitation is a joke. Diseases spread easily. Mosquitoes, mold, skin infections, and lice are all part of daily life.
Fox Hill’s guards do not protect. They control by fear. Multiple eyewitness accounts and leaked testimonies describe guards armed with pipes, rods, and thick wooden sticks – walking the corridors like enforcers, not caretakers.
Beatings are common. Retaliation for complaints is swift. Even minor infractions, such as questioning an order or asking for toilet access, can result in physical punishment or days of solitary confinement in “the hole” – a dark, airless cell even worse than the rest.
The most horrifying part? Most of Fox Hill’s inmates have not been convicted of a crime.
They are remand prisoners, legally presumed innocent – yet held for months, even years, without trial due to backlogged courts, lost files, or outright neglect. In some cases, detainees spend more time in pre-trial detention than the maximum sentence for their alleged offense.
And there is no meaningful separation between minor offenders, first-time detainees, and convicted murderers. They all share the same cells. Vulnerability is a death sentence.
Despite international pressure, the Bahamas has no legal protections for LGBTQ+ individuals. In Fox Hill, this means queer inmates face heightened abuse, mockery, and violence – often with the silent approval of staff.
Medical professionals in the country can legally refuse treatment to gay patients, and in prison, this unofficial policy is routinely enforced.
The U.S. and Canadian governments regularly provide financial and operational assistance to Bahamian law enforcement. But in doing so, they are funding a penal system that tortures people in concrete cages.
Every tourist dollar, cruise port deal, or bilateral training program that ignores the atrocities at Fox Hill is an endorsement of state violence.
Fox Hill is not a correctional facility. It is a facility for psychological and physical breakdown. A place where justice is not delayed, but destroyed.
The images shared on official websites and in government brochures – of freshly painted cells, steel toilets, and beds – are a fabrication. Most cells have no functioning plumbing, and even those with metal bedframes have no mattresses.
This isn’t just an embarrassment for the Bahamas. It’s a moral stain on every government, tourist, and cruise company that continues to enable this horror.
The world must stop treating the Bahamas as a harmless vacation spot.
Beneath the sun and sand lies a system of cruelty that echoes the worst authoritarian regimes. Fox Hill is not an accident. It is a strategy.
And unless the international community acts, this Caribbean nightmare will continue – one paint bucket at a time.