The Prison Cell Market
If prisons already have room rates, our question is no longer merely whether luxury exists behind bars. The question is: what is the price, who is selling, who is buying, and who is allowing this market to thrive?
Stories like this are not new to Cibinong, Bogor, West Java. Throughout my approximately forty years as a journalist, news regarding special cells in correctional institutions has emerged repeatedly. The names of the prisons change, the people change, the facilities change, the Presidents change, and the Ministries change. However, the story of luxury cells in prisons is like a soap opera that frequently replaces its cast while the script remains the same.
In 2018, Sukamiskin Prison in Bandung became the most famous example. During trial, Fahmi Darmawansyah admitted to paying Rp700 million to obtain a room with special facilities. Similar issues have surfaced in Cipinang, Jakarta. The Ombudsman previously discovered differential treatment for certain inmates, including cells intended for a single person with private toilets and superior facilities. Salemba, Central Jakarta, was also on the list; in 2010, reports mentioned rates for exclusive rooms at around Rp30 million.
This implies that a “prison cell” does not always mean a room of the same size and treatment. Behind the same walls, classes of comfort can grow. In the Class IIB Blitar Prison, three corruption inmates were allegedly offered special rooms for a fee of Rp100 million. These three inmates even admitted to having paid approximately Rp60 million. According to the Head of the Blitar Prison, this practice has allegedly been ongoing since December 2025.
Now, it is Cibinong’s turn. On 23 September 2026, the Indonesian Ombudsman conducted a sudden inspection at the Class IIA Cibinong Prison. The team discovered more than ten buildings that resembled houses or homestays. The Ombudsman found rooms equipped with sofas, televisions, refrigerators, dining tables, bedrooms, and other facilities. Several luxury cars were also visible. The team met an individual claiming to be an inmate residing in one of those buildings.
The individual admitted to paying a fee, though the amount remains unknown. We need to find out. Not to create a hotel catalogue inside a prison, but because money leaves a trail. If the commercialisation of housing is indeed occurring, the payment figures could serve as an entry point to uncover intermediaries, officers, officials, bank accounts, decisions, and the networks that make such facilities available.
After Cibinong, which prison will be next? We have seen examples in Bandung, Jakarta, and Blitar. If this pattern reappears in Bogor, it means our oversight remains weak. Correctional institutions are closed environments; the public cannot move in and out to see what happens behind the walls. Therefore, surveillance technology should be the first line of defence.
Cibinong Prison was established in 2008 on approximately four hectares, or about 40,000 square metres. The complex is surrounded by walls and features six watchtowers. While 40,000 square metres is not a backyard, it is also not a regency-sized territory. We do not know how many CCTVs are there, where they are positioned, or how the monitoring system operates. This is precisely what needs to be inspected.
How many cameras are there? Is the entire area covered? Where are the blind spots? Who is monitoring? Are recordings checked regularly? How long are they stored? Is access to recordings logged? Most importantly: if the cameras are indeed recording, why did the system fail to detect this earlier? Cameras only see; it is humans who must think. Cameras can record buildings, vehicles, doors, and activities, but they do not automatically ask: why is an inmate in this house? Why are there facilities unavailable in other blocks? Who brought the goods? Who granted the permission?