As part of our ongoing tracking, we are always working to move beyond numbers. Tracking (In)Justice is also documenting and sharing first-hand accounts and stories from family members and people who have been directly impacted by police-involved and deaths in custody.

This year, 2025, marks the 50th anniversary of Prisoners’ Justice Day. In honour of this milestone, we are sharing a series of accounts of people who have experienced deaths in custody firsthand. We send love and gratitude to those who have shared with us.

Learn more about Prisoners’ Justice Day 2025 here. 

A memorial consisting of 18 crosses bearing the names of inmates who have died at the Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre in London was taken down after the union representing jail workers said it created psychological stress for its members. (Kerry McKee/CBC)

A memorial consisting of 18 crosses bearing the names of inmates who have died at the Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre in London was taken down after the union representing jail workers said it created psychological stress for its members. (Kerry McKee/CBC)

Brandon was a person who always tried to lift someone up, either by doing something to make you laugh or distracting you by doing some crazy backflip or climb the most random things. He would literally try to scale any wall he could. If someone said you couldn’t climb that, he’d prove you wrong. He showed love to anyone who needed it and always offered help to people who needed it most. When he was around, you couldn’t help but break into a hardcore belly laugh. For anyone who knew him, his death had a large impact.

On July 5th, five correctional officers (C.O.s) murdered my friend Brandon for throwing a towel. On July 5th, that small, childlike act of defiance was all it took for Brandon to forfeit his life in the eyes of those five C.O.’s. Other inmates say Brandon pleaded for mercy, begging for forgiveness, asking them to stop. The beating did end, and Brandon was left alone in his cell, crying and whimpering through the night until there was no sound at all. Despite likely passing away in the early hours of July 6, and being found unresponsive in his cell, correctional officers performed one last degrading act on his body and his spirit ; They handcuffed and unresponsive Brandon, this man who had cried out for mercy like a child, as if he were a monster.

Brandon was not a monster.

He was murdered by them.

Brandon was gregarious. Everywhere he went, making friends with people. You either knew Brandon or knew someone who did. I think it was because on top of being spontaneous and silly, he was always performing acrobatics, stunts, and climbing the strangest things. Who doesn’t want to know that person? Brandon could pull you out of that dark mood and have you roaring with laughter. Brandon was bursting with love for people. On the odd occasion where he’d get it backwards, it wouldn’t be long before he’d realized he was being ignorant and missing out on another beautiful friendship. Brandon would be your biggest ally and boost you up in any way he could. He couldn’t always make it, but you always knew he was by your side and spirit. Brandon was also an MMA fighter. I think it was a way for him to dispel all that energy. And if we’re keeping it real, he loved to look good.

But being an MMA fighter didn’t mean that Brandon was a violent man. He was a kid in an adult sized body. That’s part of what makes this death of his so hard to accept. Brandon wasn’t being violent. He hadn’t squared up or thrown a punch. Brandon threw a towel at a C.O. after being denied his shower. Five correctional officers beat Brandon, even as he begged and pleaded for them to stop. Brandon was tapping out, but there was no referee to save him, and only a hushed crowd of terrified inmates to look on. Those same inmates listened as Brandon was left alone in his cell, his pain filled cries echoing down the cell block unheeded. My friend Brandon died scared, in pain, and alone. If that towel had been thrown at five men in the locker room of an MMA gym , those men would be murderers, each one arrested and charged and waiting for their day in court. Yet not one man has been held accountable thus far, taking it even further.

These same C.O.s now claim this tiny protest that occurs outside of the jail where Brandon was murdered, has them afraid for their lives. When I hear those kinds of statements, I know what it really means. More people like my friend Brandon will be murdered because those five C.O.s and ones just like them think no one cares.

I care.

Others care, and soon others will too.

I refuse to watch more lights like Brandon’s be snuffed out until we’re all standing here in the dark.

Instead, we will burn brightly and collectively as a shared flame, so bright that it forces the truth out into the light.

They did not steal Brandon’s light when they stole his life.

Instead, he lights the path ahead.

-Dylan, friend of Brandon Marchant

Brandon Reginald Marchant, who died at age 32 on July 6, 2021, is one of the over 25 deaths in custody at Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre, London, Ontario who are documented in our database.

Learn more about Prisoners’ Justice Day 2025 here.