Prison Warden advocating change - Brian Koehn

When I talked with Brian Koehn, I wasn’t expecting to hear from someone who’d spent 28 years climbing the corrections ladder only to walk away and start a nonprofit to completely flip how prisons work. But that’s exactly what happened. Brian went from a 25-year-old Marine taking a summer job at a private prison in Minnesota to running five different facilities as a warden, and somewhere along the way, he realized the whole system was backwards.

From Marine to Warden in Middle-of-Nowhere Minnesota

Brian didn’t grow up dreaming about prison work. “I would argue that nobody ever said, when I grow up, I don’t want to work in a prison,” he told me. He’d gotten out of the Marines after four years, was working on a criminal justice degree, and thinking about the FBI. But that required a master’s degree he didn’t have yet.

Then this independent private prison opened in Appleton, Minnesota. Population: tiny. “I was like, well, what do I do? Well, this independent private prison for Minnesota was opening up in Appleton, Minnesota, middle of nowhere. I was like, huh, I had a corrections class in criminal justice. Yeah. You know, I was like, man, fine class. And then, well, I’ll take a summer job.”

That summer job turned into a career. The facility hired him as a supervisor because of his military background, and Brian found himself managing what he calls “the people business.” He was good at it, and in private corrections, performance meant promotion opportunities.

Running a City Where Nobody Wants to Be

By 42, Brian was a warden. But the way he explains the job might surprise you. “In reality, although the title I held was warden, I was really city manager. I mean, it was, that’s what I was, I was responsible for managing a city that the whole population didn’t want to be there.”

Every prison, he explained, has a hospital, high school, restaurant, public works department, and police force. All within the fence. The difference from a regular city? “I know how many HIV cases we had. I know, I mean, I know how many, you know, how many that we had that were in population that were maximum custody versus minimum custody.”

Brian spent his days walking the units, talking to staff and residents. He preferred higher-custody inmates to lower-custody ones. He’d sit at dayroom tables and go cell to cell, making sure to talk to people from all racial groups. That last part matters more than you might think.

The Racial Reality Nobody Talks About

Prison populations self-segregate by race, and it’s about survival and control. “It’s about protection. You know, if the prison is a scary place, especially for the first-timers, and only 13% of people who own prison are in there for the first time. But for the first-timers, it’s scary.”

But it goes deeper than protection. Each racial group has leaders with specific roles. One group might control drug trafficking, another tobacco, another alcohol production. “You can’t eat chips on some other races, chip bag, or you can get yourself in a lot of trouble. I mean, it’s, it’s that fit political life inside.”

This creates what Brian calls the root cause of problems in corrections and in the country. The system teaches separation when it should teach people to function together in society.

The Moment Everything Clicked

Brian’s awakening came gradually, then all at once. Working in private corrections, he had to understand root causes because violence and recidivism cost money. “There’s a study that says each violent instance is cost $17,000. Well, that violence is expensive, not only in lives, but in cost.”

The statistics started eating at him. Two-thirds recidivism rate. Correctional officers dying at 59 instead of the national average of 76. “How toxic, how toxic does a culture have to be to take 19 years of your life for, for a male?”

He kept asking the obvious question: why do we keep doing this if it doesn’t work? “Insane is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

The Norway Model and American Possibilities

Brian studied what works elsewhere. Norway dropped their recidivism rate from 91% to 21% using three principles: dynamic security, normality, and the import model.

Dynamic security means officers have professional relationships with residents. They shake hands, use first names, act as encouragers rather than controllers. Normality means operating the inside as much like the outside as possible, so reentry isn’t such a shock. The import model brings the community into the prison.

Brian saw these principles work at Maine State Prison, a maximum-security facility with almost no violence where sex offenders live in general population. “By the way, for your listeners, that almost never happens. Sex offenders usually go in protective custody or they go into their own living.”

Social Purpose Corrections: The Nonprofit Solution

After 28 years, Brian walked away to start Social Purpose Corrections. His model takes the efficiency of private corrections but reinvests all profits back into programming instead of sending them to shareholders.

“What if 100% of prison net revenues were reinvested into drug alcohol rehabilitation, on-site job training, education programs, accessible mental health and self-care treatment, mentorships, employee training, medical care, real-world reentry assistance?” That’s the question driving his work.

The football analogy he uses makes perfect sense. In current corrections, officers are on the field trying to stop residents from reaching their end zone (successful reentry). In Brian’s model, officers become sideline coaches, helping residents navigate the real obstacles: housing, employment, the permanent disadvantage of a felony record.

The Challenge of Being a Disruptor

Brian calls his organization disruptors, and he means it. “We’re suggesting a whole different way of doing corrections.” The resistance is real, but so is the interest from funders who see the current system’s failure.

His original funder, Gideon Powell, CEO of Toyota Petroleum, heard Brian’s pitch and said it was “the craziest thing I ever heard” before immediately asking how to help. That’s the reaction Brian gets: people recognize the current system is broken, but changing it requires proving a completely different approach works.

Brian’s background gives him credibility few have. “I’m one of the most diverse corrections leaders in the United States. I mean, coming from private corrections, I managed BOP, U.S. Marshall detention, immigration prisons, six states, two jails, men, women, max, minimum. I started a nationwide transgender unit.”

People Leave With Jobs, Not Bus Tickets

The outcome Brian’s really after is simple: people leaving prison with jobs and housing, not $50 and a bus ticket. “If you don’t have money and you have $50 in bus ticket, maybe you get a hotel room for one night, then what? Then maybe you go to social services or the food bank or the shelter. Then what? Then what? Start making choices. Those different choices put you back in prison.”

Brian’s model is outcomes-based. If they don’t hit their targets for reduced recidivism and violence, they expect to be fired. But he’s confident they can deliver because the current bar is set so low.

After talking with Brian, I kept thinking about that 59-year-old average lifespan for correctional officers. A system that literally kills the people working in it probably isn’t great for the people living in it either. Sometimes the most radical idea is just treating everyone like human beings.