57
Bones are sometimes found jutting from the coast-
line where erosion has washed away the soil.
Hart Island is a uniquely New York phenomenon.
In other cities, the indigent are cremated or buried
at a traditional cemetery. Here, they’re buried to-
gether on an island inaccessible to most city resi-
dents. Although most New Yorkers are oblivious to
its existence, Hart Island is a necessary by-product
of a sprawling metropolis—not everyone can afford a
formal funeral. And to people who oversee the grave-
yard, burial is a more sensible option than cremation.
“What if someone is sent by mistake?” says Captain
Martin Thompson, 59, of the city’s DOC, who has
overseen operations on Hart Island for 15 years. “You
can’t reverse a cremation.”
When Torron arrived, COVID-19 was triggering
the biggest shift in operations on the island in a cen-
tury and a half. The week beginning April 6, 138 peo-
ple were buried there as a result of COVID-19 be-
cause morgues were overfilled; at one point, the rate
of burials went from roughly 25 a week to around 25
a day. “This trench was supposed to last us the whole
year,” Thompson says, looking over the mass grave.
“Instead it was full within two months.”
That same week, the city for the first time also
stopped using incarcerated workers for Hart Island
burials. An outbreak of the corona virus among pris-
oners was ultimately passed to every correction of-
ficer on the island, including Thompson, who was
ill for nearly two months. At first, the city tried to
replace the inmate labor with city employees who
normally fill potholes. That didn’t work out. They
were uncomfortable with the grim task.
Then the city turned to contract laborers. On the
first day, there were 40 workers who showed up for
work, not knowing what the job entailed. When they
found out the task at hand, 28 people left. “The re-
maining guys have stuck around ever since,” says
Keron Pierre, 35, a laborer from Brooklyn. “We just
have to try and think of it as any other job.”
When the truck carrying the caskets pulls to a
stop at the foot of the trench, the laborers hold back
from assembling for prayer with the staff chaplain.
That’s when the reality of the day’s task becomes
most clear. With each delivery since the onset of
the pandemic, von Bujdoss, the head chaplain from
the DOC, climbs atop the truck’s rear liftgate, stands
over the coffins and reads out the names of those set
to be buried, along with a Buddhist blessing and a
few prayers. “Though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art
with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me,”
2015 ’17 ’20
2,009
844 846
767
Burials
on the
island have
more than
doubled
since
COVID-19
hit New
York City in
early 2020
THROUGHOCTOBER
SATELLITE IMAGE VIA GOOGLE
