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'He wasn't sentenced to death': Family fears for prisoner with rare blood disorder

Manderfield is also being held in disciplinary segregation.
Courtesy of Tia Sumner
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WFIU/WTIU News
Manderfield is also being held in disciplinary segregation.

A federal prisoner in Indiana set for release next month stopped receiving regular treatments for a rare blood disorder after prison officials accused him of unauthorized contact with a healthcare worker.

Demitrius Manderfield, 29, has not received blood transfusions for the genetic disorder sickle beta thalassemia since January, when investigators at the U.S. penitentiary in Terre Haute received a tip that he tried to send a message to a specialist providing treatment, according to medical records and other documents reviewed by WFIU/WTIU News.

Read more: How federal prisons stonewall grievances

"I signed my own death certificate when I did that," Manderfield wrote in a letter from the Special Housing Unit, or SHU, where he has been held on disciplinary segregation since the investigation began and the transfusions stopped. "I know I'm not going to make it, if I feel this bad now," he wrote.

A letter from Demitrius Manderfield dated April 8. An excerpt says "I have not had a blood exchange since the middle of January"
Graphic by Joanie Dugan / WFIU/WTIU News
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WFIU/WTIU News
A letter from Demitrius Manderfield dated April 8. An excerpt says "I have not had a blood exchange since the middle of January"

The night before, Manderfield wrote, medics transported him to the emergency room at Terre Haute's Union Hospital after a cellmate alerted staff that he had collapsed shortly after saying he was feeling severe chest pain.

Manderfield wrote that he had suffered a seizure, and corrections officers placed him in a wheelchair and wheeled him to a holding cell where he waited for about eight hours, from midnight until medical staff clocked in the next morning. After finding he had dangerously low blood pressure, they transported him to hospital, where testing found low hemoglobin levels, Manderfield said. But he did not receive a transfusion, and corrections officers transported him back to the prison.

Transfusions discontinued

Aside from one long stretch 10 years ago while in custody in Michigan, where he later pled guilty in federal court for his role in a scheme to sex traffic a minor, Manderfield has generally been able to receive the monthly transfusions while serving his sentence, including at Terre Haute, according to relatives.

The discontinued procedure, red blood cell exchange, is used to remove the faulty, sickle-shaped cells and replace them with healthy ones that can more efficiently transport oxygen throughout the body.

Without the treatments, the faulty cells build up and can restrict blood flow. When that happens, patients may experience severe pain virtually anywhere in the body, among a variety of other symptoms. Patients also become more susceptible to life-threatening conditions such as strokes or seizures.

“You didn't sentence him to death, you sentenced him to 10 years. I don't think you get to play the judge, jury and the executioner, you know?”

"You have to do it consistently. Otherwise, the effect is lost," according to Dr. Andrew O'Brien,  an adult hematologist and co-director of the Lifespan Sickle Cell Disease Center at Indiana University and IU Health.  "Over time, those transfused cells are going to die off, and the patient's own cells are going to come back."

Exactly how often transfusions are needed varies by patient but a typical schedule might be every four to six weeks, O'Brien said. Establishing the right schedule is an important element of treatment, determined through ongoing and consistent evaluation by a team of sickle cell specialists, he said. But that level of care is not available in most hospitals. In prison, it's nonexistent.

"That becomes particularly challenging in terms of being able not only to get them appropriate treatment, but also to be able to have good communication and good insight into what they're dealing with day to day, being able to get them access to appropriate emergency care, appropriate urgent care," O'Brien said. "We'll bring them into clinic to give them pain treatments or evaluate them and try to change the course of their acute pain episode so that they don't end up in the hospital. But those types of interventions are generally not available to people who are incarcerated or even people on parole or house arrest. It can be very challenging."

O'Brien also said that it was difficult for patients to advocate for themselves, especially during acute pain episodes, which Manderfield said he had been experiencing more often as time goes on without the transfusions.

"I just got two letters from Meech saying he is in so much pain that he can barely write. It's so heartbreaking," his mother Tia Sumner said, using her son's nickname.

Sumner said his condition has continued to worsen after months without the transfusions, which had been administered at Union Hospital.

"If he skips one, we are talking excruciating pain crisis, strokes, acute chest syndrome," she said. "That blood literally keeps him alive."

Sumner said Manderfield had received transfusions every three weeks "like clockwork" since he was four years old, with only a handful of exceptions. Corrections staff documented that Manderfield refused one in September 2025. At that time, Sumner was able to receive updates from her son the same day.

Recently, however, she said staff stopped allowing the two to communicate by phone or email. They also removed other relatives' phone numbers and email addresses, Sumner said, apparently over her role in the unauthorized communication incident.

According to Sumner, the prison opened its investigation after she sent a message to a Facebook friend of one of her son's providers, at his request.

" I made a grave mistake that I didn't realize was a mistake. He called me and he said, 'Mom, I met this nice girl up at the hospital that I go to. I would love to be able to get her a phone number.' And in my mind, 'Oh, that's so cute. I'm so glad you found someone," she said. "I found a friend of hers and I sent her a message and said, 'My son would love to get your friend's phone number.'"

A letter from Demitrius Manderfield dated April 8. One line reads "I signed my own death certificate when I did that cause I know, I'm not gone [sic] make it, if I feel this bad now, there is no way I'm gonna last 3 more months."
Graphic by Joanie Dugan / WFIU/WTIU News
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WFIU/WTIU News
A letter from Demitrius Manderfield dated April 8. One line reads "I signed my own death certificate when I did that cause I know, I'm not gone [sic] make it, if I feel this bad now, there is no way I'm gonna last 3 more months."

Sumner said she received a letter about a week later informing her of the case, and the prison cut off her access to phone and email communication in March. They also removed Manderfield's sister from the approved list, she said.

Sumner said that after learning more about prison policy, she now understands why inmates aren't allowed to communicate with people on social media, especially those they encounter in healthcare settings. But she said that doesn't justify withholding medical care from someone with such a serious illness.

"You didn't sentence him to death, you sentenced him to 10 years," she said. "I don't think you get to play the judge, jury and the executioner, you know?"

By April, Sumner was communicating with her son only through written letters, which sometimes took weeks to be delivered in either direction. Sumner said that his description of the chest pain and seizure in April resembled pain episodes he suffered when his condition was not as stable.

"When he said that he had a seizure, it was pretty bad. In his letter, basically, he was telling us that he was going to die and this was it. And he wanted us to know that he loved us," she said.  "He thinks this is the end for him, honestly."

Choking back tears, Sumner read from a letter in which Manderfield apologized for the crime that landed him in prison and for the distress his confinement has continued to cause his family. He wrote that he wished he had had the opportunity to prove that he had changed and was a better person now.

"I'm literally lost, I feel terrible," Manderfield wrote in that letter, dated April 8. "If I feel this bad now, there is no way I'm gonna last three more months."

Manderfield's projected release date is July 13.

“I’m literally lost, I feel terrible. If I feel this bad now, there is no way I’m gonna last three more months.”
Demetrius Manderfield in a letter to his mother Tia Sumner, dated April 8

Read more: Inmate serving life dies at Terre Haute federal prison

A prison bureau representative did not directly address inquiries from WFIU/WTIU News about Manderfield's condition or explain why his transfusions were being withheld. In an unsigned email, the sender provided a link to a website with instructions for filing a Freedom of Information Act request.

"I trust this has addressed your concerns," the person wrote.

Compassionate release denied

Last month, U.S. officials shared some information about the situation in court filings, much of it under seal. The filings were in response to a request for compassionate release under the First Step Act, filed in U.S. District Court in the Eastern District of Michigan, where Manderfield received his sentence.

Judge Judith Levy denied the motion on procedural grounds, saying Manderfield had not yet exhausted internal remedy procedures. But she left open the option for him to make a new request after finishing the grievance process.

Before ruling, Levy ordered the U.S. attorney's office in Detroit to explain discrepancies between its representations about the treatments Manderfield was receiving and the prison bureau's medical records. The U.S. attorney, citing information from the prison bureau, had informed the court that Manderfield was not being denied transfusions and, moreover, he had three hematology appointments scheduled for May, June and July. But Levy noted that prison medical records showed all three appointments had been discontinued. She ordered the U.S. attorney to explain.

In response, the U.S. attorney acknowledged that the appointments had been canceled, again noting that the information had been provided by the bureau. The U.S. attorney included a statement from the prison bureau acknowledging that it had canceled the appointments but insisting that was only after an outside provider determined Manderfield no longer needed transfusions.

"Manderfield was being investigated for inappropriate communications with medical staff...ongoing investigations have no bearing on whether inmates receive medically necessary care."
BOP Federal Bureau of Prisons statement

"Inmate Manderfield does have sickle cell thalassemia and does receive regular transfusions. These transfusions often occur during monthly visits to the local hospital, but this is not always necessary," the response said.

It said a local specialist determined Manderfield did not need a transfusion during an appointment in March. And in April, at his visit after collapsing in his cell in the SHU, the same specialist made the same decision.

The bureau's response concluded: "As a side note, Manderfield was being investigated for inappropriate communications with medical staff. However, outside providers at Union Hospital would not be aware of that investigation unless informed directly by Manderfield. Furthermore, ongoing investigations have no bearing on whether inmates receive medically necessary care."

Cathy Knapp contributed to this report.

George Hale is a multi-media journalist at WFIU and WTIU. He previously worked as an Investigative Reporter for NPR’s northeast Texas member station KETR. Hale has reported from the West Bank and Gaza, Israel, Jordan and Egypt.
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