All language subtitles for American Greed s15e13 Million Dollar Prison Kickback.eng

You're watching CNBC On Demand.

In this episode of American Greed, the
$81 billion business of mass

incarceration and how head of prisons
Chris Epps makes a killing in the lock

-up state of Mississippi.

Earl Berry has been a career criminal.

He's known to play for and draw for and
like to crack a lot of jokes.

He's not doing a lot of joking today.

What he controlled was just amazing.

What Epps controls as the state's prison
commissioner is a $350 million a year

gold mine.

Chris Epps gives.

If Epps, their person, should get this
contract, he would.

And takes.

Like, he deserved to wear a Rolex watch.
He deserved to drive a Mercedes -Benz.

condos down in the Gulf Coast.

Why would one business partner be paying
another business partner's home

mortgage? That's not out of the goodness
of your heart. That's not an accident.

Because Chris Epps knows everything from
a bag of chips to a phone call home has

a price tag.

All of these services businesses are
competing for and they're worth a lot of

money. And he's running one of the
largest pay -to -play schemes in

history. Chris Epps touched everything,
and it turned out almost everything

Chris Epps touched was corrupt.

Chris Epps likes to say he's the tallest
hog at the trough.

At some point, we reminded him that hog
is typically the first to get

slaughtered.

At the FBI office in Jackson,
Mississippi, the feds have called a

meeting with Prison Commissioner
Christopher F., head honcho of the

Department of Corrections.

We came up with the scenario to get him
to come meet. He's used to going to

meetings with public figures. He didn't
necessarily think that something was

wrong.

Our initial interaction was very
friendly, and then we just wanted him to

something real quick.

Because today's gathering is, in fact, a
carefully constructed ruse.

For months, the feds have been tapping
his phone and collecting undercover

video. The results of those efforts are
queued up on the video screen and ready

to roll.

And now they tighten the screws.

We hit play.

And that was enough for him to go, oh,
no.

We have video of those who had been
paying the kickbacks to Mr. Epps.

Handing him cash and having Mr. Adams
just flip through the cash, it was

appearing. He appeared to be visibly
upset.

And when I say upset, he was firing,
shaking.

There's no better persuasion tool than a
video recording. He's not

a good guy at this point.

No matter what you may have thought of
him prior to this, he's been on the take

for the last seven to eight years.

This is a story about the big business
of locking people up.

Now that they go by, this don't cross my
mind several, several, several times.

And how it made Chris Epps very powerful
and rich.

To understand Chris Epps, it helps to
understand where he came from.

Epps' life would have been seen as
almost an American success story. I

grew up in the poorest county in
America, Holmes County, Mississippi.

Raised on his grandparents' farm, Epps
recalls pulling turnips and feeding

chickens each morning before school.

He applies that same hard work ethic to
earn his degree in education before he

takes a job with the Mississippi
Department of Corrections.

He begins at the bottom, a lowly guard.

Epsis said in the past that he was at
first terrified of being around so many

felons, and with good reason.

The state penitentiary known as Parchman
has been notorious since 1901.

Established more for profit than
rehabilitation, according to Jerry

journalist and MacArthur genius who has
investigated Mississippi prisons for

years.

Parchment was a plantation they
essentially converted into a prison with

the inmates working the fields.

And by the way, they didn't just work
their fields. They would dole them out

basically plantations around there.

In other words, it's a for -profit
scheme.

They had the inmates working at the
cotton fields from sunup to sundown. And

state was just raking in the money from
this.

And they could whip them, and they
actually used that whip up until the

which is hard to believe, but it's true.

In 1972, the federal court reminds
Mississippi that slavery is over and

it to abandon its plantation -era
policies.

But in Mississippi, reform is a hard
road to hoe.

Once prisons began to cost money,
Mississippi didn't in turn really want

these prisons, so you had really
horrible conditions.

Civil lawsuits on behalf of inmates cite
sewage backups, extreme isolation, and

dehumanizing conditions.

And they just open and put us in hell,
man. Look at the flow.

Dawn,

she asks that we use only her first
name, has a husband who has served time

Parchman since 1998.

She says in the summer, temperatures
inside the prison hit 100 degrees or

And you watch the older inmates.

Regardless of their crime, you just
watch them one by one just kind of die

because they can't take the heat.

Parchman, I believe, is pretty much the
worst of the worst.

Climbing the ranks to head of security
at Parchman, Epps witnesses these

transgressions and more.

He saw the inmates hungry, fighting mad.

He saw the sewers backed up. He saw the
leaking roof.

So he came from knowledge.

The abuses are as commonplace as they
are shocking.

Mississippi became one of the first
prisons in the United States to have

conjugal visits.

Is it a humanitarian reform, allowing
inmates to connect with their loved

Not exactly.

It's a money -making scheme that turns
guards into pimps. The correctional

officers had someone type up the dummy
marriage certificate and brought in

prostitutes. And then the guards, of
course, were getting a cut of this.

Mitchell's sources suggest that
Parchman's culture of corruption twisted

moral compass.

I've talked to people who were in
prison, inmates in prison in the 1970s

Parchment, and they told me Chris Epps
was corrupt way back then. It was

something that had been going on the
whole time.

But Epps has learned how things work in
the Mississippi prison system, and he

has a knack for politics.

He flies through the ranks collecting a
string of awards, says former

Mississippi Attorney General Jim Hood.

He was in the National Guard. He served
our state and our country. He was the

president of the American Corrections
Association.

And, you know, you love to see somebody
come up and run and start at the bottom.

Jimmy Gates covered state politics as a
journalist for the Clarion Ledger in

Jackson. This man was unique in the
sense with his folksy style. You know,

everybody liked the Chris Epps. You
know, he was loved.

In the black community, you know, he was
loved in the white community, you know,

at that time.

I think he saw himself as being a public
official, you know, maybe even governor

one day.

In 2002, Epps is tapped for the number
one post at the MDOC, Commissioner of

Corrections.

Next on American Greed, whispers around
the state capitol, how does a humble

public servant live so large?

Looking back, I think to drive a $100
,000 car and have a $10 ,000 Rolex watch

on a state government salary would be
pretty questionable to most folks.

By 2005, Chris Epps has worked his way
up to the top. As commissioner of the

Mississippi Department of Corrections,
And he's the only African -American

director of a Mississippi agency.

He's an ace at schmoozing legislators.

Once he became commissioner, he made it
a point that he knew the legislature.

He knew the names of each legislator's
wives, whether they had kids. You know,

he was just that folksy kind of type
person, you know, made you feel at ease

with him.

He uses that down -home charm even when
delivering tough news, like at this lead

-up to the execution of Earl Berry, an
inmate on death row.

Errol Berry has been a career criminal.

He's known to play for and draw for and
like to play a lot and crack a lot of

jokes.

He's not doing a lot of joking today.

He was able to convince the state
lawmakers to basically give him the

wanted, the vast majority of the time.

They loved him.

It was the same way with the media,
including myself. I just love this guy,

I'm saying this as a...

African -American person, you know, just
seeing another African -American male

doing something that we don't see often
here in the state of Mississippi.

And Epps has successfully led the state
to one of the lowest costs per inmate in

the nation, about $41 per day.

But there's a flip side to that
equation.

Civil rights lawsuits naming both the
Department of Corrections and Epps

accuse him of providing grossly
inadequate shelter and sanitation.

and neglecting mentally ill prisoners.

Epps fires back in the press saying, the
ACLU hasn't got a clue about running a

prison. He's cultivated an image as a
straight -talking prisons expert with

impeccable tastes.

The guy wore custom -tailored suits.

He wore a Rolex.

He drove a Mercedes.

There's also his gated home in Flowood,
an affluent suburb of Jackson.

a second Mercedes driven by his wife,
and a waterfront condo on the

Gulf Coast.

As a state employee, Epps' take -home
salary is about $132 ,000 a year.

Looking back, I think to drive a $100
,000 car and to live in a half -million

-dollar home and have a $10 ,000 Rolex
watch on a state government salary would

be pretty questionable to most folks.

In Mississippi, prisons are a big
business.

The state ranks third in the nation for
the number of people incarcerated per

capita. With all those people locked up,
the Department of Corrections is

Mississippi's third largest employer.

Its annual budget is nearly $350
million.

More than half is doled out to
government contracts.

Whether it's commissary or telephones or
medical, all of these services

businesses are competing for, and
they're worth a lot of money.

Molly Motley Blythe is with the FBI in
Jackson.

Whoever gets that, that's their bread
and butter. That's their livelihood.

The reliance on private contractors
stems from the 1990s tough -on -crime

sentencing, which caused Mississippi
prisons to overflow.

Seeking to avoid federal fines for
overcrowding, the state turns to for

companies to build more prisons.

There was a huge battle in the
legislature.

A lot of the corporate interest came in,
spread money around the legislature,

and they voted to open up private
prisons.

Now, in his job as commissioner, Chris
Epps seems to have the clout to steer

contracts to any company he prefers.

Normally, you know, a public contract,
you're going to have bids, but with the

Department of Corrections, they allowed
them to have this huge number of no -bid

contracts. You know, the legislature is
involved with certain things, but for

the most part, it's hands -off. It's
what they trust in, whatever you want to

do. In 2007, Epps signs off on a no -bid
contract with a company named GT

Enterprises, owned by Cecil McCrory.

Cecil McCrory and Chris Epps, you know,
seem to have some bond. I think it goes

back to when McCrory was once a
legislator on the Corrections Committee.

McCrory already has his finger in a lot
of pies.

Now he's using that good old boy network
to get into business with state

prisons. With his newly inked contract,
McCrory's company will supply

merchandise to prison commissaries
throughout Mississippi.

Inmates are barred from receiving food,
snacks, and toiletries from their

families. They have to purchase these
items through the commissary.

Typically inmates don't have much money,
and so this may be coming from families

or whatever, and so they're buying these
things, but they're gouging them.

Dawn says she spends $400 each month on
commissary at Parchman because inmates

like her husband are hungry and don't
get enough food.

They feed grown men like you would feed
a two -year -old toddler.

The portion sizes are...

There's so many things on the tray that
you can't eat. The rice is uncooked. The

green beans, you never know if you're
going to have a frog head in them.

mystery meat.

$400 a month is always hard for Dawn to
manage.

But when she has to cut back her hours
at work, the commissary is unaffordable,

and her husband pays the price.

I have photos of him before and after.
He was...

and healthy and taking vitamins.

Once I was unable to provide the
commissary, he shriveled up, just went

from one human being into a completely
different human being.

And if he can't afford commissary, then
he's starving, basically.

Meanwhile, McCrory lives high on the
hog.

With the commissary contract, his
company, GT Enterprises, gets a 75 % cut

the profits.

It amounts to millions made off of
inmates and their families, according to

later reports by Jerry Mitchell.

You know, it's just ridiculous prices.

For example, a six -ounce bag of
barbecue chips cost $1 at a discount

inmates and their families pay $3 .56
for a five -ounce bag in prison.

A dollar pack of AAA batteries will set
them back four bucks.

In 2007 and 2008, McCrory's contract
reels in over $3 .2 million in

profit. No big contracts. You can just
go to a buddy of yours from high school

or a brother -in -law and give them a
contract.

Special Agent Ty Breedlove works with
the FBI in Jackson.

There's other people that did
commissary, could provide the same

they were never considered because they
weren't Cecil McCrory.

Cecil McCrory will later tell the feds
it's around this time in 2007 that Epps

demands a share of the problem.

Over the next year, McCrory kicks up $3
,000 or $4 ,000 a month for the GTE

contract.

Now, Chris may have had a little lark in
his heart before, but when they began

this privatization of prisons, that...

poured money in Mississippi like we
hadn't seen before.

Coming up on American Greed, Epps and
McCrory target the billion -dollar -for

-profit prison industry.

It's just incredible what they did and
how arrogant they got under everyone's

notice.

In Mississippi, prison commissioner
Chris Epps and his buddy Cecil McCrory

partnered in a business of sorts.

Epps takes to CEO life like a pro, and
why not?

They're teeing up to make a killing.

In 2008, McCrory sells his company, GT
Enterprises, to the out -of -state

provider, Keef Commissaries, scoring a
hefty profit.

Chris Epps signs the MDOC contract over
to Keefe, but advises that they keep

McCrory on the payroll as a consultant.

Darren LaMarca is the U .S. attorney for
the Southern District of Mississippi.

The larger corporations were told you
need to have someone within Mississippi

who has access to the commissioner, and
Cecil McCrory was pitched as that

person, and you need to pay him, whether
it be...

$2 ,000, $4 ,000, $8 ,000 every month.

As the feds will later learn, this is
the start of a lucrative pattern,

according to Mike Hurst.

The money started flowing from Cecil
McCrory to Epps, and in return, the

contract started flowing from Chris Epps
to Cecil McCrory.

Epps expected a portion of that. So they
would meet once a month for coffee.

They'd meet at Waffle Houses all around
town.

And they'd show up, and they'd do a
handshake, and cash would go from

Epps, sit down, have a cup of coffee,
and then they'd go their separate ways.

But despite selling GT Enterprises,
McCrory hasn't simply sold out to become

consultant. He has a number of
businesses, including a new entity he

College Street Leasing.

And in December 2009, Epps signed a
lease between the MDOC and this new

of McCrory's.

College Street Leasing will operate two
transition centers, also known as

halfway houses, to provide housing and
work programs for male and female

in the town of Walnut Grove,
Mississippi.

If prisons are a big business in
Mississippi, they are absolutely huge in

Grove. The town of 1 ,900 people already
has two prisons nearby.

Greg Wagner was sheriff of Walnut Grove
for almost 20 years.

You had a regional prison that was under
me.

You had a private prison in Walnut
Grove. The transition centers were a

different story.

It hadn't been advertised. It was just
done.

But a lot of things were done that way
under Chris Epps' administration.

McCrory's company acts sort of like a
work program, providing job

for inmates.

But not without taking a cut of the pay.

McCrory charges them $20 a day for room
and board.

That's in addition to the $6 per inmate
per day that the state pays McCrory.

And the work program?

It's slipshod at best.

The idea itself was terrible. The
residents of Walnut Grove could go and

inmate and check them out on a Saturday
morning, have them come clean their

house, and then return them like a
library book.

To make matters worse, the books are
checking themselves out of the library.

That was the men's facility there.

And they had a cyclone fence.

They got ready to leave. They just went
out there and jumped over the fence. It

wasn't a big deal. Well, they would walk
across from there and then come, like,

downtown and just walk around like they
were free people.

Meanwhile, Epps promotes the transition
centers as part of MDOC's cost -saving

agenda. When Chris would go to the
legislature, Chris got what he wanted.

It seemed like it didn't matter.

But when Chris wasn't around the
legislators, and it was a meeting, say,

just a group of sheriffs, it was all
about Chris.

That side came out. He would say, I'm
the tallest hog at the trough.

Now, that's a southern colloquial term,
but what he's meaning is I am the most

important person in this room.

That sense of being untouchable also
applies to the lesser hogs on Epps'

This building here, this was the women's
facility.

Grady Sims is the mayor of Walnut Grove
and warden of this transition center.

I cautioned Grady about the inmates out
on the streets.

And Grady would just kind of brush it
off what he thought was that Chris Epps

was going to cover him if anything
happened.

In November 2009, Sheriff Greg Wagoner
gets a visit from a local woman.

She had been an employee down there, and
they'd let her go.

And she was ready to tell me what was
going on.

It seems Grady Sims, the mayor slash
warden, has been checking a female

out of one of the transition centers and
into a local no -tell motel.

It's an explosive allegation.

The sheriff immediately contacts John
Hunt.

One of Mississippi Department of
Corrections' own investigators.

Together, they launch a case looking
into the suspected sex abuse.

But just as things are gathering steam,
Hunt informs him their case has been

shut down.

So what are you talking about?
Everything that you've uncovered is

more and more felonies. You don't just
stop it. He said, I know.

But he stopped.

Turned around and walked out.

Who killed their case?

The sheriff has just one suspect,

Chris Epps, Commissioner of the
Department of Corrections.

It was obvious to me that that came from
Commissioner Epps. He wouldn't have

shut it down without Chris Epps wanting
to shut it down.

I knew at that point I couldn't just
allow this to go on.

FBI Special Agent Ty Breedlove remembers
hearing the sheriff's story.

The case was progressing as it should.

The only thing that was different was
getting the call from Commissioner Epps

saying, you can stand down, we're not
investigating that.

He says Chris Epps not only shuts down
the investigation, he rubs it in when he

runs into the chief investigator, John
Hunt, at work.

John Hunt was leaving his office at the
Department of Corrections, and he sees

Commissioner Epps smoking a cigar and
yelled across the parking lot, and he

says, there goes John Hunt. He always
gets his man and starts laughing, and

just kind of laughed.

you know, back and then got in the car
and was like, son of a bitch.

We figured the person that could fill in
the missing pieces would be Mayor Sims

himself.

When confronted, Grady Sims strikes a
deal and pleads guilty to federal

tampering. It triggers the start of a
federal probe into McCrory and F.

They dub it Operation Mississippi
Hustle.

Luckily, people like to talk in the
hospitality state.

You start hearing the same things, and
then you start hearing things about Epps

telling people that his mortgage has
been paid off or that he may have a

on the coast and he's driving very
flashy vehicles.

Everything that Cecil McCrory did
involved corrections, and it had to be

with Commissioner Epps' approval.

Their relationship could explain Epps
deep -sixing the investigation of Grady

Sims. Cecil McCrory was trying to sell
that facility, and they didn't need more

bad publicity. They had several people
escape.

And then now you had the sexual assault
allegations.

We knew that Cecil was making a living
off of his relationship with the

commissioner of the Mississippi
Department of Corrections.

Prosecutors combed through McCrory's
bank finances.

Our financial analyst was going through,
I mean, thousands and thousands of

pages of records.

Going back to July of 2008, Cecil
McCrory withdrew a cashier's check from

personal bank account in the amount of
$100 ,000.

The check is made payable to Countrywide
Bank, which holds the mortgage on Epps'

Flowood home.

I remember her calling me right from
down the hall saying, I found it, I

it. And I ran down to her office, and
she had found wire transfers that Cecil

McCrory had made directly to Chris Epps'
home mortgage.

Why would one business partner be paying
another business partner's home

mortgage? That's not out of the goodness
of your heart. That's not an accident.

The last one was the exact amount to pay
off Commissioner Epps' home when you

were on to something.

There was some celebratory dancing at
the U .S. Attorney's Office, and Mike

Hurst did a little dance. I don't
recommend that you all ever see that,

was very excited about it.

Next on American Greed, the money rolls
in.

Epps had so much money coming in, he
didn't know what to do with all of it.

suddenly, friends shift allegiance.

This relationship had existed for so
long, there was no reason for Epps not

trust him.

By 2013,

Chris Epps is America's longest -serving
prison commissioner, withstanding both

Democratic and Republican governors.

One constant has been an increasing
reliance on for -profit private prisons.

Three different private contractors have
operated East Mississippi since it

opened, including Management Training
Corp. and GEO.

Those were probably the biggest
contracts MDOC awarded, and Cecil was a

consultant for all of those companies.

Management and training court, and they
came into business. McCrory asked for $6

,000 a month, and Epps said that's way
too low.

So he called McCrory back later and
said, I got us $12 ,000. He literally

I got us $12 ,000, because they split
it. So McCrory still got his six, but

got his six.

The more money that Cecil made... the
more money he could give back to

Commissioner Epps.

Chris Epps and his buddy Cecil McCrory
don't know it, but the feds have

wiretapped their phones, and they're
tracking every move.

We had a few other people that we
suspected that were doing the same thing

Epps, so we put together a pretty big
chart.

It turns out McCrory is just the tip of
the proverbial iceberg.

The kickbacks don't just involve
McCrory's companies and out -of -state

consulting contracts, but also lobbyists
and elected officials, including

Mississippi movers and shakers like
Teresa Malone, the wife of a former

lawmaker. Teresa Malone was an intended
beneficiary of what her husband was able

to do for Mr. Epps.

Herb Benjamin, a former state senator.

Dr. Carl Reddix, a physician who
provides medical care for inmates at

prisons.

Dr. Reddix actually paid Mr.

Epps thousands of dollars each month.

And Sam Wagoner, a distant cousin of the
Leak County Sheriff.

You have a $40 ,000 wire transfer to the
commissioner from one of the subjects,

and then two days later there's a
contract that gets approved.

While Epps and McCrory's scheme is
driven by greed, former Attorney General

Hood points the finger at more than $3
billion in revenue earned by the

private prisons.

Those companies will pay a lot to get
one of those contracts.

That's been the root of a lot of evil in
our prison system.

In March, FBI agents initiate a meeting
with Cecil McCrory.

It was all about, let's get Cecil first,
then we can probably figure out who

else is dirty.

Agents asked him about Chris Epps and if
he knows anything about kickbacks or

bribes. He was just like, absolutely
not. I don't know what you're talking

about. We rolled out the sheet of
transactions and pointed to the mortgage

payment.

And McCrory said, well, I might know a
little something about that.

Not only did he fill in missing pieces
about...

His bribe payments, at that point it
became clear, Dr. Reddick's, Herb

Theresa Malone, everybody that had been
on our radar, they were giving him money

he wasn't entitled to.

McCrory spells out how he eventually
became the bag man for all of Epps'

cronies. Cecil told us that Commissioner
Epps was just getting bribes from

everybody. He didn't know what to do
with the money, so he asked them to

it and then wire it up to his investment
account.

Coffee became their code for let's get
together and you pay me my money.

According to McCrory, those handoffs
could amount to shocking amounts of

and at those Waffle House meetings, the
money now flows from Epps to McCrory.

It's still Epps' money, but McCrory is
helping him deposit it.

One time, Epps brings him a gift, a
duffel bag that McCrory mistakes for a

souvenir. It was swag that you get at
these conferences, and Cecil was like,

well, I don't need another bag, so he
didn't pay any attention to it. So they

have their coffee, and then they get up
to leave.

McCrory had left the bag behind when
Epps stopped him at the door.

The commissioner looks at Cecil and
says, hey, where's your bag?

He's like, go get the bag right now.

And so Cecil goes back in, and he's
like, what's the big deal with this bag?

Opens it up, there's $40 ,000 in cash in
the bag with a note that has all the

wiring instructions for Commissioner
Epps' investment account retirement

During Epps' reign, the cost of inmate
phone calls had reported to have risen

$14 a minute.

Investigators learned Epps takes a
percentage of those profits, too.

Even the supply of urine test cups
includes a lucrative kickback to the

commissioner. It involved inmate health
care.

It involved the telephone system, the
private prisons.

Chris Epps touched everything, and it
turned out almost everything Chris Epps

touched was corrupt.

Meanwhile, Chris Epps resorts to
stashing all that cash at banks around

He was taking those bribes back to his
home, and then he would deposit those

into multiple bank accounts. One example
is July 30, 2009, and he made four

stops at four different bank branches
and deposited $9 ,000 at each

bank branch.

So $36 ,000 on his drive into work.

He knew that if you deposit cash in
amounts of $10 ,000 or more, it would

trigger a reporting requirement from the
local bank.

He was getting money from so many
sources, I don't know how he kept up

Next on American Greed.

There's always this comment about the
tallest hog in the trough, and so at

point we reminded him that hog is
typically the first to get slaughtered.

more greed?

Follow us on Instagram, connect with us
on Facebook, and listen to the American

Greed Podcast wherever you get your
podcasts.

We'll be right back.

In 2014, as feds watched the money from
kickbacks and bribes pass hands,

investigators nicknamed Chris Epps Big
Money.

The Wire.

had been up 60 days, and we had compiled
plenty of evidence.

He is a smart guy, and if we laid out
everything we have, he's going to say, I

have no choice but to cooperate.

They call Epps to a meeting with the FBI
under the ruse they're investigating a

possible death threat.

We were all excited.

This is the room we used, and...

We had a video ready and queued up for
the moment that we were going to tell

we knew what he'd been up to.

As soon as the video started playing, he
broke out to a sweat and began wiping

his forehead with a handkerchief.

I can remember the video we chose.

He was in his car, and he's wearing his
National Guard shirt.

He was retired from the National Guard.

And he giggles in the video when he
takes the cash.

He's just giddy.

That was the $18 ,000 bribe payment that
we had given him just a few days prior.

The juxtaposition between what was on
the screen and the way his face looked

when he saw it would make anybody feel
sad because it was a very hard moment

him to understand that he was in big
trouble.

Faced with the insurmountable evidence,
Epps agrees to flip sides.

We went back to his house. We took...

$65 ,000 from his safe that day. We put
the titles to both of his Mercedes.

Quite a few things started happening
right from the very first day.

Like how Epps seemed to enjoy the power
that comes with being a government

informer. A lot of times when you're
putting a wire on somebody, it takes

an hour.

Not with the commissioner.

That would be like a three -hour
conversation because he loved to talk.

And he was super nice, but...

Listening to him on the Title III on the
wire, you got a little bit different

taste of his personality because he did
bully other people that he worked with.

You know, he would kind of hang up and
then kind of laugh, like, don't mess

me. You know, I'm the tallest hog at the
trough.

We'd heard it firsthand.

And so at some point we reminded him
that hog is typically the first to get

slaughtered.

And he had never thought about that. But
he's not wrong. He was corrections.

And nobody questioned anything he did.

But as Epps amassed his network of
cronies, he's created a system that's

dangerous for both staff and prisoners.

Jerry Mitchell and reporters at the
Clarion Ledger publish a series on

Mississippi prisons.

We ran a huge package of stories and
just delineated corruption, beatings,

violence, just all these things that
were happening behind bars.

Reporters ask Epps whether low -paid
officers are susceptible to bribes. Epps

says, I believe it's the character of
the individual that makes a person

susceptible to many things.

That was rather ironic, wasn't it?

On November 5, 2014, Chris Epps quits
his job as commissioner at the

Department of Corrections without
notice.

A day later, Chris Epps and Cecil
McCrory are indicted on allegations of

fraud, bribery, money laundering, and
tax evasion.

U .S. attorneys point to nearly $1
billion worth of private prison

almost $1 million in bribes.

Literally like 10 days after our series
ended, the corrections commissioner

was indicted by a federal grand jury.

So what can I say?

To me, that was just proof. All this
corruption was true.

Everybody knew there was others
involved.

The FBI, you know, the U .S. Attorney's
Office, you know, they would just tell

us, just hold on, you know, more is
coming.

Up next, Chris Epps gets caught
pilfering again.

Why Chris Epps would want to steal while
he's on probation for a billion -dollar

public corruption case. That doesn't
make sense. It defies logic.

On November 6, 2014, Chris Epps and
Cecil McClory appear in U .S. District

Court in Jackson, Mississippi, on a 49
-count federal indictment.

Again, this wasn't just a Mississippi
public corruption case. This is

that had national implications because
many businesses from outside the state

Mississippi were participating.

In our office, our job is really just
beginning.

The indictment is just the opening
salvo.

Epson McCrory plead not guilty and are
released on bail, but each could face

more than 200 years behind bars if
convicted.

I sat in the courtroom the other day,
you know, when the former commissioner,

you know, the commissioner that I looked
up to, you know, with shackles on his

legs, you know, how could this have
happened, you know?

But even with the specter of a prison
sentence looming, Epps hasn't lost his

swagger. He shows up to federal court
wearing his Rolex watch that a state

employee has somehow bought and who's
claiming his innocence in federal court.

That was Chris Epps. A few days later,
the former commissioner strides into his

local Mercedes -Benz dealership.

They had their car seized and house
seized.

He went out and got his wife another
Mercedes Benz, and we found out about

and reported that too.

It was just incredible.

This is not the only trouble Epps steps
in.

I guess he got the idea that he could go
back to his old house, which was in

possession of the Marshal Service, and
get his old landscaping lights.

So he went back over there, lifted the
garage open, and he ripped the circuit

board out of the wall and then went out
and pulled up all the lights.

He's on probation for a billion -dollar
public corruption case.

It doesn't make sense. It defies logic.

Again, his arrogance is the reason he
did that. He thought he could go back to

that house that the government owned and
get some of his property because he was

Chris Epps.

Epps is arrested and charged with
burglary.

This time, the judge denies the bail.

Over the next three years, a host of
players are sentenced in the bribery

scandal. This entire investigation ended
up being the largest, most complex, far

-reaching public corruption
investigation in Mississippi's history.

I tell you, God is our witness. We're
going to come after the other corrupt

politicians, and we're going to clean up
this state for our kids and our

grandkids. Former legislator Herb
Benjamin is sentenced to six years for

Epps in connection with drug treatment
programs and consulting contracts.

Dr. Carl Reddix is sentenced to six
years for paying kickbacks to Epps in

exchange for providing care to inmates
at East Mississippi.

In 2016, Teresa Dolan Malone, the widow
of a former state rep, is sentenced to

three years, five months for giving
bribes to Epps through McCrory.

She confessed in the same way that the
others did.

She would say she did work, but there's
no records of anything actually

occurring. And then she would pay Epps.
And in her mind, it just didn't make

sense that she had done anything wrong.

Agent Molly Motley -Blythe says Epps
gave a similar response.

We had lengthy conversations where he
would explain that this was just a tip.

This was just a thank you for allowing
us to work in Mississippi.

Attorney General Jim Hood sued companies
associated with the bribery scandal,

saying they owed nearly a billion
dollars in revenue due to Mississippi's

-racketeering laws.

These three companies had $660 million
contracts.

It's a lot of money in Mississippi.

They weren't Mississippi companies.

So they saw the money flowing in
Mississippi, and they came in and took

advantage of it.

I made them pay not only the profit, but
in many instances, their whole

contracts.

None of the companies admit to
wrongdoing, and no criminal charges were

against them.

Many assert that their contracts were
not linked to kickbacks.

But most agreed to settle, and in 2019,

Hood's office recovers $26 million in
settlements.

Cecil McCrory is sentenced to eight and
a half years in prison for money

laundering. Federal prosecutors
recommended a lenient sentence for Chris

light of his cooperation.

But the judge disagrees.

In 2017, Chris Epps, the man who spent
three decades running Mississippi

prisons, is sentenced to just under 20
years behind bars.

For Dawn, whose husband served time at
Parchman, justice was slow and costly.

These are our mothers, our daughters.

Just like the men or our husbands, he
just felt like he was untouchable, like

could just do whatever he wanted to do
to the inmates, to the inmates'

and get away with it for all those
years.

The problem was with these kickbacks,
the money wasn't going back into the

prison system, and so it's all of
society that suffered by that

Whenever somebody who's in public power
is lining their pockets, everybody who

believed in them suffers.

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