My mother was terrified of water. As a child, she witnessed her cousin drown—and the trauma of that moment never left her. She never learned to swim well, and any time my brothers and I were near water, her worry could spike into full-blown panic.
My father, by contrast, is a beach bum. He grew up in the deserts of Arizona, surfing the California coast, diving for fish in Rocky Point, and spending entire summers with sand on his feet. Though I have always enjoyed swimming, when I was 13, he taught me how to body surf while vacationing in Mexico, and I found joy in the water. Today, one of my greatest pleasures is snorkeling on glassy water—floating above coral reefs, completely immersed in another world.
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And yet, I still fear deep, dark water. That uneasy tension between awe and anxiety lives in me—equal parts my mother’s caution and my father’s freedom.
Water has always held that duality. It is life-giving and life-taking. It nourishes families, powers towns, sustains ecosystems. It shapes economies, cultures, and the fate of entire communities.
Water can nourish or deplete, but it is an inevitable dichotomy.
Mill Creek Mountain in Franklin County stands as a case study in what happens when water is treated as an afterthought. It’s the proposed site of a 3,000-bed prison—the second largest capital project (in terms of expense) in state history, with the potential to land at the number one spot once all is said and done. And yet, somehow, the state still doesn’t know if there’s enough water—though locals have been warning them all along.
Recently, the Arkansas Board of Corrections approved up to $50,000 to start exploratory drilling. They called it “the next step.” To folks here, it feels more like a desperate backpedal. Exploratory assessments should have been conducted WAY before now.
The numbers are staggering. A facility of that size would need up to 447,000 gallons of water a day—about what a small town uses daily. But there’s no municipal water line. No existing infrastructure. No firm plan. Just speculation.
They’ve floated ideas: drill deeper wells, build towers, pipe water from Fort Smith (a project that would take years), or—unbelievably—pull from the Arkansas River, one of the most polluted waterways in the area.
It’s like planting crops without checking if there’s a well nearby—just trusting rain will come in time.
“The authorization of funds for water exploration has further perplexed residents and local officials, who have repeatedly said that the rural location lacks enough water to meet the state’s demands.”
She’s right. People here are perplexed—and tired. Don Sosebee, a rancher who lives nearby, put it simply:
“I haul a lot of water every day… Sometimes, I have to haul two loads a day. That’s five hundred gallons.”
Don and Bo Sosebee still work their land with horses. Once this prison is built next door to them, they will never get to enjoy the stars in the night sky again.
It doesn’t take an expert to understand what that means. If a family has to haul water just to bathe and drink, how could a prison housing 3,000 people possibly function?
And yet, the state barrels ahead. During the board meeting, Sean Murphy from Vanir Construction admitted the obvious:
“There’s enough around there to know there’s water. We just don’t know how much is there on the site, and we need to start figuring that out.”
Let me quote that again… “we need to start figuring that out”. “Start”? That’s the level of preparation behind a billion-dollar investment.
The board even suggested tapping Ozark as a backup water source. But no one had spoken to city officials. McCoy reported that the mayor was still waiting for basic updates:
“‘Unfortunately Mr. Magness nor anyone with the proposed prison has been in contact with us here at the city. We need updates…’”
And Jack Wells of the River South Rural Water District didn’t sugarcoat it:
“The way we sit right now… there’s no way it would work.”
If this prison is built on Mill Creek Mountain, the bridge in Ozark becomes the only available crossing until Van Buren. It’s the sole route for workers traveling from I-40 east of Alma—a single point of access for daily commutes, emergency response, and supply routes.
Even if they somehow found water, the cost would be another blow. Well water runs about $0.0008 per gallon. City water? Up to $0.005. Let’s break down the potential costs to taxpayers.
Well Water Costs
(at $0.0008/gallon)
Daily: $288 – $357.60
Monthly: $8,640 – $10,728
Annual: $105,120 – $130,524
Municipal Water Costs
(at $0.004–$0.005/gallon)
Daily: $1,440 – $2,235
Monthly: $43,200 – $67,050
Annual: $525,600 – $815,775
Annual Difference:
Choosing municipal water over well water would cost an additional $420,000–$685,000 per year, not including infrastructure, hookup, or capacity fees.
No wonder there is only one existing prison in Arkansas that does NOT use well water. It’s a heavy cost to pay for choosing the wrong location.
But this isn’t just about math. It’s about consequences. About a growing pattern of shortsighted decisions made without community input or environmental foresight.
The Buffalo River watershed is protected for a reason. It’s a living symbol of Arkansas pride—clean, clear, untouched. But places like Franklin County? They’re seen as expendable. As blank canvases for concrete and razor wire. We’re told it’s “progress.” But when the progress comes without planning, who is it really for?
These photos document the primary access roads that would be used to construct and operate the proposed prison on Mill Creek Mountain. Flooding like this is not an isolated event—it’s a recurring issue in this area. Any plan that relies on these routes must account for regular disruptions to transportation, staffing, and emergency response.
Yes—we’ve talked about water before. We’ve written articles, raised flags, sent emails, and shown up to meetings. But we’ll talk about it again, and again, and will keep talking about it.
Because the need for clean, reliable, and affordable water isn’t a political talking point. It’s the baseline for everything else. For families. For communities. For the land itself.
Water is inevitable.
Accountability shouldn’t have to be forced by failure.
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Great article, Natalie. Excellent content and writing. Keep it going.