Many police departments use mesh bags, commonly known as spit hoods, to cover the heads of people in custody so they can’t spit on officers. Police say the devices are safe. But an investigation by The Marshall Project and WTSP, the CBS affiliate in Tampa, found that in some circumstances, the hoods can be deadly.

Here are five takeaways from our findings, based on thousands of pages of documents, videos and interviews with victims and their families, police departments and experts. The main article of this investigation contains more information.

Police across the country continue to use spit hoods, even as deaths raise troubling questions.

Officers used spit hoods on at least 31 people who died in their custody between 2013 and 2023, according to our investigation. In more than half of those deaths, police used the hood in conjunction with other restraint techniques or tactical weapons, including hog-tying, pepper spray and stun guns. Medical experts say that these combinations often worsen the problems that lead to serious injury or death.

“One death is too many,” said George Kirkham, a Florida State University criminology professor who is an expert in police use of force. “We can say more people die from shootings or beatings, but the families of these folks are devastated just the same.”

Many departments have no policies on deploying the masks — and among the ones who do, the rules vary wildly.

The Marshall Project’s review of policies from 100 departments in 25 states found that most require officers to remove the sacks when a person is vomiting, bleeding from the mouth or suffering from other medical conditions. But only 10 of those departments restrict spit hoods to cases in which someone is actively spitting or biting others, or is about to do so. Only 11 require officers to warn people before putting them in a spit mask. And only 12 policies point out that people in a mental health crisis can experience high distress when in a spit net.

Some policies — or in the absence of a written document, department guidance — can be very vague, critics say. The Polk County Sheriff’s Office, southwest of Orlando, said it doesn’t have a policy, and that spit hoods “are used when it makes common sense.”

Mentions of spit hoods in deaths involving police can remain hidden from public view for months or forever.

Most departments that give patrol officers the masks don’t track how often they are used. And there are no national reporting requirements to disclose if a spit hood was used when someone dies in custody. Officials at the Hernando County Sheriff’s Office, north of Tampa, did not initially tell the public that jail deputies had pepper-sprayed a man and placed two hoods on his head in April 2022. The man, Tim Peters, lost his pulse minutes later and died in a hospital the next day, records show. The sheriff revealed the use of the spit masks only after WTSP reporters pressed the agency for more information and eventually obtained an unredacted 21-minute video of Peters’ death. No officers were charged in Peters’ death.

Some studies have concluded that masks are safe, but some experts say the research is flawed.

Researchers have shown that even dense spit hoods are easier to breathe in than an N95 mask, and study subjects could breathe even in hoods sprayed with artificial saliva. But critics say none of those studies mimicked the chaos and stress of being arrested or held in jail. “These are people who are in a controlled environment,” said Dr. Dan Woodard, who has studied the effects of spit hoods. “They haven’t just finished running from the police or getting punched or hit or thrown to the ground.”

Most research that involved humans tested people’s ability to breathe under dry hoods. And even the artificial saliva used in one study was thinner than real human spit, experts say.

People who have tried to breathe in spit masks during police encounters describe it as a scary experience.

Knoxville Police officers used a hood on Nzinga Bayano Amani, when they arrested the civil rights activist in 2022. Amani said officers misplaced the elastic band of the hood, which is supposed to go around the neck, and Amani struggled to breathe after the band was caught in their mouth. “I knew if at any time I got any more stressed or agitated, there’s a possibility I could have passed out,” Amani said.

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There’s a phrase that is often used in women’s prisons: “Gay for the stay.”

When I first heard it, at Taconic Correctional Facility in 2019, I didn’t understand what it meant. This was my first time in prison, and I was a married heterosexual woman with six children.

But during my first visit to the recreation yard in this Westchester, New York prison, I couldn’t help but notice how many women were coupled up.

Later on, another incarcerated woman told me that she was “gay for the stay.” When I asked her about it, she said she was married to a man, had never been in a sexual relationship with a woman before, and had every intention of returning to her husband upon release. But while she was serving her time, she, like so many other women, still had sexual desires that needed to be met.

I remember thinking to myself, That’s crazy. How can someone pretend to be something they have never been, be intimate and not develop feelings? I just knew that was never going to be me.

Countless times I was approached by women who were interested in me, but I always turned down their advances. I did not consider myself a lesbian or “gay for the stay.” However, as time went on, I began to get to know the women I was housed with, and I became friends with a few of them.

There was one particular woman I became fond of, whom I’ll call A. She and I had a lot in common, particularly when it came to our past experiences and disastrous relationships. The more time we spent together, the more my attachment grew.

One night, I came in from my work program as a porter in the health clinic, and headed for the shower. Of course, there is no privacy in prison, so A. entered the shower area and began talking to me. I remember the way she slowly pulled the curtain open and looked at me with desire.

I remember asking her, “What are you doing?” and then telling her she was not supposed to be there. But she stepped into the shower fully clothed, and at that point, I did not know what to do. I was thinking and feeling so many things: I was nervous because I did not want to be caught, scared because I had never been with a woman before, and excited because of the way A. was making me feel.

All I could do was back into the corner of the small shower as she continued to get closer and gently started to touch me. As she awaited my reaction, she kissed me. I became so aroused that I let her continue.

I don’t know if I let her keep going because I was vulnerable, or because I hadn’t been touched in years. Perhaps it was both. What I do know is I enjoyed every second of the experience. It was as if A. ignited a fire in me that was waiting to be lit. I was amazed by the way she, a woman, was able to make me feel. But I also felt that I was doing something wrong.

From that day forward, I viewed A. differently. I began to appreciate her presence. I found myself in awe over little things about her, admiring the glow of her skin and the way her silky hair glistened in the sun. I began battling with myself, trying to reassure myself it was OK to be fascinated by a woman, and that perhaps giving myself to her would not be such a ghastly idea.

I eventually resolved the mental battle; A. was all I could think about. Still, I often asked myself if this could be real or if it was just something all women did in prison. Did A. really have feelings for me, or did she just want to satisfy her own sexual desires?

I decided to ask some of the other women at Taconic to get a better understanding of the terrain. Their responses included wanting companionship, seeking sexual gratification, and achieving financial stability. (Some of us who don’t have family members to send us money will get into a relationship with someone who can buy them or share items from the commissary.)

Some of the women told me they were just curious and wanted to experiment with their sexuality. A few said they did it simply to adapt to the environment because it was one way to fit in.

I believe women in prison enter relationships because they are trying to fill a void within themselves. Many of us have suffered all sorts of trauma, and we are searching for an alternative. To survive, we try to continue as if we are still at home. We get up, go to work or program, and, instead of cooking for our kids, we cook for our lover. We go out on dates in the yard and come back to shower.

Just for the record, it is prohibited to engage in a sexual relationship while incarcerated. We are subject to consequences. If we are caught, we could receive a misbehavior report followed by a hearing. After the hearing, if found guilty, we could be sent to a special housing unit for a period ranging from 72 hours to 15 days. There could also be loss of privileges such as recreation, packages, commissary, phone or tablet. That is a lot to lose for a few minutes of pleasure. Perhaps this shows how desperate we are, that we are willing to take these risks just to feel like a woman again.

In this environment, however, many women feel more comfortable and willing to reveal their sexuality. Gays on the outside are often bombarded with criticism, hate and abuse. In prison, I believe it is easier to express ourselves because so many of the other women are doing it as well.

Don’t get me wrong, though: We do face discrimination from the security staff as well as a handful of the incarcerated population who do not like the fact that they are working and living with lesbians. Sometimes we are forced to move to another unit as a consequence.

And when the correctional staff learns that two women are in a relationship, one of the women might be moved to another unit or building to separate them. What I learned is no matter where someone is in the world, we will always face some sort of discrimination.

Within two months of my first romantic encounter with A. I made the decision to give the “gay for the stay” thing a try. We genuinely fell in love with each other, and two years later, she and I are still in a relationship. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time.

I had been raised to believe that only a man could love, provide for and protect a woman, but the man I had married provided none of these things, and I divorced him. A. showed me I did not need a man to make me happy, and she introduced me to a world I never knew existed. She showed me how I was supposed to be treated. And I learned how to love just when I thought it was impossible.

I never thought I would fall in love with a woman, but I am grateful God brought A. into my life. Because of her, something beautiful came out of the demoralizing predicament I am in. Our relationship has helped me to understand that we should never judge anyone because of their sexual preference. We should never be ashamed of who we are or with whom we fall in love.

Being with A. is like a breath of fresh air after spending over two decades with a man who was mentally and physically abusive to me. I think God removes people from your life and replaces them.

I believe I was placed in prison in order to work on myself and to get to know the real me and what I am worth, flaws and all.

A. was released from prison at the end of 2021, went home, and kept every promise she made to me. She has formed an amazing relationship with my mother, and, most importantly, she has created a strong bond with my children.

I am a better person today because I accepted A. into my life, letting her provide me with the love and affection that I need. I provide her with the same, making her feel desired and appreciated. So now, when I am asked, “Are you gay for the stay?” my answer is, “No, I’m now gay at the gate, but only for A.”

Samantha Vantassell is serving a seven-year sentence at Taconic Correctional Facility for drug trafficking. She is originally from Poughkeepsie, New York. While incarcerated, she earned an associate’s degree with high honors from Marymount Manhattan College. She expects to be released in April 2024 with time-earned credit for educational achievement.