Most people see an abandoned prison and assume it was always meant to lock people away.
Scott State Prison tells a very different story.
Long before it became a correctional facility, this building stood as part of Central State Hospital in Milledgeville, Georgia. It was originally built to care for patients, not incarcerate inmates. Over the decades, changing priorities transformed those same brick walls from a place of treatment into one of Georgia’s best-known prisons before it was eventually abandoned altogether.
When we returned to the Central State campus during our Milledgeville weekend, Scott State Prison was one stop we couldn’t pass up. We had already explored another abandoned prison nearby, but this visit became less about urban exploration and more about understanding how one building could live such remarkably different lives.
A Hospital Before It Was a Prison
When the Kemper Building opened in 1937, it was simply another ward within the sprawling Central State Hospital campus.
At its peak, Central State wasn’t just a hospital—it was practically its own city. Covering nearly 2,000 acres and housing almost 12,000 patients, it included farms, workshops, staff housing, and dozens of specialized buildings dedicated to mental health care.
The Kemper Building existed for one purpose: caring for patients.
But history has a way of changing the purpose of buildings just as dramatically as it changes the lives of the people inside them.
By the late 1950s, Georgia’s prison system was struggling with overcrowding. Rather than constructing an entirely new correctional facility, state officials converted the former hospital ward into a maximum-security prison.
Hospital rooms became prison cells.
Nursing stations became security posts.
A building designed for healing suddenly became a place of confinement.
A Prison Named for Sacrifice
For years, the prison simply operated as another correctional institution.
Everything changed on September 18, 1980.
Correctional Officer Frank C. Scott Jr., a United States Army veteran, was supervising inmates during a transport when tragedy struck. According to reports, inmates had sabotaged the transport bus. When its brakes failed, the vehicle crashed, killing Officer Scott in the line of duty.
In an especially heartbreaking detail, the accident happened on his thirty-second birthday.
The following year, Georgia renamed the facility Frank C. Scott Jr. State Prison in his honor, ensuring his sacrifice would never be forgotten.
Today, every mention of Scott State Prison also serves as a reminder of the officer whose name became part of its history.
Our Visit to Scott State Prison
Unlike our visit to Rivers South Prison, we never entered Scott State.
In many ways, that made the experience even more meaningful.
The property had become noticeably more overgrown since our previous visit, and there wasn’t a safe or discreet place to park nearby. Instead of trying to force the issue, we stayed outside and simply appreciated the building from a respectful distance.
Sometimes preserving history also means respecting it.
Even from the roadside, Scott State Prison leaves an impression.
Brick walls disappear beneath climbing vines.
Rusting fences slowly surrender to nature.
Trees press closer each year, reclaiming a place that once housed nearly 1,800 inmates.
I did bring home one small souvenir—a simple rock from the edge of the property. Nothing valuable. Just a quiet reminder of another forgotten place with an unforgettable story.
Then something unexpected happened.
As we were taking pictures, another vehicle pulled in behind us. One of the guys climbed out and jokingly announced, “You’re under arrest!”
Thankfully, they were kidding.
It turned out they were fellow explorers from Daytona visiting the exact same place. We spent a few minutes comparing notes about other abandoned buildings we’d each visited before wishing one another safe travels.
History has a funny way of introducing strangers.
Why Scott State Prison Closed
By 2009, Scott State Prison had become increasingly expensive to operate.
After all, the building had originally been designed as a hospital more than seventy years earlier—not as a modern correctional facility. Aging infrastructure and outdated security features made continued operation impractical.
Georgia officials estimated that closing the prison would save millions of dollars annually.
On August 15, 2009, the final inmates were transferred elsewhere, ending decades of correctional history.
For Milledgeville, the closure represented more than the loss of a prison.
Hundreds of local jobs disappeared almost overnight while Central State Hospital itself was also experiencing massive downsizing.
An institution that had once shaped the local economy slowly became another chapter in Georgia’s history.
Echo’s Corner: When Walls Remember
Some buildings carry echoes because people tell ghost stories.
Others carry echoes simply because we know what happened there.
Scott State Prison has worn two very different identities—a hospital ward and a maximum-security prison. Countless lives passed through these halls under circumstances most of us can hardly imagine.
Whether you believe abandoned places hold spirits or simply memories, one thing is certain:
Standing outside Scott State Prison, the silence feels heavy.
Not because the building is empty.
Because it isn’t.
It’s still full of history.
One Last Stop Before Heading Home
Before returning to our hotel for the evening, we made one final stop at nearby Cedar Lane Cemetery to check on a letterbox we’d hidden during an earlier visit.
Unfortunately, someone had already discovered it.
The container was sitting open on the base of the angel statue, filled with rainwater, and the custom stamp we’d carved was gone.
So we packed everything out instead.
Sometimes adventures leave behind memories instead of treasures.
By then, my ankle hurt with every step. The cold had settled in, and after a full day exploring Central State Hospital and its surrounding landmarks, I was completely exhausted.
Oddly enough…
I’d happily do it all again.
A Building Waiting for Its Next Chapter
Today, Scott State Prison sits within Milledgeville’s Renaissance Park redevelopment area, where portions of the former Central State Hospital campus are slowly finding new life.
Some buildings have already been restored.
Others continue waiting.
The Kemper Building remains one of the biggest question marks.
Whether it eventually becomes apartments, offices, another community space, or simply disappears altogether, one thing remains true:
Its story deserves to be remembered.
Buildings like Scott State Prison remind us that history isn’t always comfortable.
Sometimes it asks difficult questions about how society cared for people…
how it punished people…
and how quickly entire chapters of our past can be forgotten if no one takes the time to tell their stories.
That’s exactly why we keep stopping.
Ever wonder how one building could go from healing the sick… to housing some of Georgia’s most dangerous inmates?
Scott State Prison has lived two very different lives, and its abandoned walls still have an incredible story to tell.
If you’re planning to explore the city’s history beyond the Central State campus, don’t miss our Milledgeville Historic Walking Tour.
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