Surveillance footage shows an incapacitated Hardel Sherrell collapsing into a wheelchair as a Beltrami County Jail staffer looks on on Sept. 2, 2018. Sherrell died the following day. (The Minnesota Star Tribune)

It is hard to find sympathy for people behind bars.

They’re there because they did, or are suspected of doing, something bad. They murdered someone. Beat up their kid. Or they’re rapists. Stalkers. Embezzlers.

If they don’t like their treatment in the pokey, too bad! They should have thought about that before they hurt someone else. Lock ‘em up, right? Throw away the key.

Then something happens to an inmate that makes you sick to your stomach.

The death of Hardel Sherrell is one such case.

Sherrell was locked up in the Beltrami County jail cell in 2018. At first he was fine, but he soon became sluggish, complaining of numbness. He begged jail staff and medical providers for help, but they figured he was faking it. We all know why. He’s a prisoner, right? Prisoners lie, right?

Except Sherrell wasn’t lying.

For hours, he lay on the jail cell floor, unable to move. It wasn’t until days later, after he was found screaming and crying for help, covered in his own feces, that he was taken to the hospital. And even after that, back in his cell, unable to control his head or neck, medical personnel ignored his needs.

A nurse was heard telling him to “get up and walk” and that “there was nothing wrong with him and he could get up and walk if he wanted to,” according to recently filed criminal charges.

Sherrell died in jail of pneumonia and Guillain-Barré syndrome, a rare autoimmune disorder. The nurse was charged earlier this month with manslaughter and neglect.

In 2021, the Minnesota Legislature passed the Hardel Sherrell Act, which was aimed at improving medical care in Minnesota jails and prisons. Inmates keep dying, though, sometimes from overdoses, sometimes from natural or other causes. Last year, 11 people died in jails and prisons, down from 20 the year before, according to the Minnesota Department of Corrections.

Advocates are urging lawmakers to update that law this year. The proposed revision spells out exactly what constitutes “basic medical care,” including things like walkers and medication.

It also specifies that only appropriate medical personnel can decide if the inmate needs medical care and penalizes jails with fines of up to $25,000 for violations.

That makes good sense. Corrections workers are in the business of confining people, not gauging health care needs.

And corrections workers put up with a lot. Inmates can do disgusting things. My husband served on a jury for a trial of an inmate who flooded her cell and flicked dirty toilet water at the guard who came to move her to a different cell.

Yet despite that behavior, despite their crimes, inmates are among the most helpless beings in our society. Their welfare depends entirely on others.

When inmates act irrational, there’s usually something wrong. Last year, an inmate in the Otter Tail County jail ate his own feces while in solitary confinement. Instead of calling for a psychiatric exam for this profoundly disturbing, desperate act, the jail staff deprived him of food and water.

In December, the American Civil Liberties Union sued Otter Tail County, the sheriff, and correctional officers. Its lawsuit says the man “exhibited increasing signs of physical and mental distress” and officers allegedly “laughed at him, mocked him, and left him to suffer.”

Our society puts criminals behind bars. It’s what they get for imperiling the lives, safety or wellbeing of other human beings. But we should also acknowledge the toll that incarceration takes on inmates. Losing one’s autonomy is a terrible thing in itself. It doesn’t need to be worsened by cruel, incompetent or indifferent staff.

And why should we care about inmates?

You can argue that it’s for our own good. Eventually most inmates will re-enter society and their treatment and opportunities while confined will affect how well they do adjusting to society. Addressing mental health or addiction can help them become productive members of society.

You can argue that caring saves society money by preventing lawsuits or penalties against jails and prisons.

You can even argue that good medical care can prevent the spread of disease that could infect jail staff and be carried out to the broader society.

All those reasons are valid.

But fundamentally, we care because, unlike criminals, we respect the rights of others and the rule of law. That principle underlies any peaceful, democratic society. No matter how horrific the crime, the length of their sentence, even their behavior behind bars, we need to respect their dignity as members of the human race.

The public doesn’t normally get to see what’s happening inside our jails and prisons. It’s possible that the cases that grab headlines present a distorted view of what’s actually taking place inside. But I suspect that the way Hardel Sherrell was treated isn’t an isolated case. It’s just that we found out about it.