While more than 700 federal prisoners across the country had been released to home confinement in an effort to curb the spread of the coronavirus, the men at the Atlanta Prison Camp are still waiting their turn.

As of Thursday evening, according to a Bureau of Prisons spokesperson, the Atlanta prison was still “reviewing inmates to see if they are suitable for home confinement.” “There is no set schedule for any institution,” the spokesperson said.

Inside the prison camp, a minimum security facility located in the shadow of the federal penitentiary, offenders who meet the criteria for home release say they know why they remain incarcerated. They spoke with The Atlanta Journal-Constitution on the condition they remain anonymous, fearing reprisals from prison officials.

“They’re putting our lives at risk just to keep the prison running,” said one inmate, a former hedge fund manager convicted of insider trading. He alleges the roughly 140 men at the camp have been forced to work in unsafe conditions at the prison even after U.S. Attorney General William Barr ordered the a lockdown confining inmates in their cells with limited exceptions.

“We didn’t even get masks until this past Monday,” said the former hedge fund manager. All the while they’ve worked in close proximity to guards and prisoners, doing everything from emptying the trash to serving meals to prisoners.

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According to the prisons bureau, 11 inmates and three staff members have tested positive for COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus.

Offenders who spoke with the AJC said those numbers fall well short of reality. Only a handful of inmates have been tested, so there’s no way of knowing just how many have been infected.

“More like 25 inmates and 19 staff members,” said a former medical professional serving three years for fraud. That’s what they’ve heard from the more accomodating corrections officers, or overheard from officials as they complete their chores.

“We hear the ambulances going in and out every night,” he said while noting a tented triage unit has been set up on the prison grounds.

The former medical professional said he feels fortunate to still be healthy, though he has no way of knowing whether he’s infected.

He meets all the criteria for home release. He’s in his late 60s, suffers from high blood pressure and, as a non-violent offender, isn’t considered a threat to the public.

Rumor has it he will be among 16 inmates approved for home confinement, perhaps as early as Friday.

A few have already learned of their release but were awaiting a mandatory two-week quarantine, to be spent at the maximum-security prison next door.

“You can’t safely quarantine people in prison where the virus is already present,” said the ex-medical professional.

Still, the main prison will likely be safer than the camp.

Designed to feature an open layout, the camp’s living quarters house roughly 40 to 50 inmates in three units. Each one has a communal restroom and showers.

Earlier this month, the AJC obtained an internal email from a Atlanta federal official practically begging an independent supplier of sanitizer for a rush delivery. The camp was in “desperate need,” the email read.

In response to the sanitizer shortage, the BOP sent a statement to the AJC saying a stockpile has been built up and the agency will no longer have to rely on independent suppliers.                                                                                                      Family members say, in light of those conditions, the prolonged wait for home release is especially cruel.                  “They are so far behind the eight-ball up it’s incredible,” said the wife of the medical professional.

She talks to her husband on the phone every day. She hears the fear in his voice an worries her husband will not survive much longer in “that petri dish they’ve got him in now.”

A few of the eligible inmates at the prison camp have been told they’re going to be released. But as of Friday they were still waiting to be quarantined.

“Would rather do his quarantine here but beggars can’t be choosers,” texted the daughter of a 71-year-old inmate held on a fraud conviction.