Injected Without Consent: Inside Williamson County’s Medical Black Box

By LeRoy Nellis

I was not sentenced.
I was not convicted.
I was a pretrial detainee, presumed innocent under the Constitution.
In early 2024, while in custody connected to Williamson and Travis Counties, I was administered a large-volume injection—approximately 50 cubic centimeters—without informed consent, without explanation, and without a documented medical justification that has since been produced.
What makes this event impossible to dismiss is its timing. During the same period, publicly available data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reflected an infectious-disease outbreak affecting both Williamson and Travis Counties. I am not a clinician, and I am not asserting a diagnosis. But the overlap of time, place, and exposure raises serious questions that demand transparency.
What the County Claims—and Why It Fails
After the fact, county officials claimed the injection was “insulin.”
That explanation does not resolve the danger. It confirms it.
A 50-cc injection of insulin, if accurately described, would represent an extraordinary and medically unjustifiable volume, particularly in a custodial setting without documented consent, physician authorization, glucose verification, or continuous post-administration monitoring.
Administering insulin at that volume without a clear dosing rationale and safeguards exposes a patient to extreme risk, including severe hypoglycemia, neurological injury, coma, or death. Even if the substance were insulin, the absence of required documentation constitutes life-threatening medical negligence.
To date, no contemporaneous records have been produced to substantiate the insulin claim, including:
a consent or refusal form,
the prescribing physician’s order,
the insulin concentration and dosage calculation,
pre- and post-administration blood-glucose readings,
lot numbers or inventory logs,
or an adverse-event report.
Asking the public to accept a potentially lethal explanation without evidence, while withholding the records that would verify—or refute—it, is not medicine. It is institutional concealment.
The Aftermath
Following the injection, my health deteriorated rapidly and catastrophically. I experienced systemic inflammation, neurological impairment, vision loss, and cascading complications that permanently altered my life. Requests for clarification were ignored. Requests for records were delayed or denied. Requests for independent medical evaluation were resisted.
Any injection of this magnitude—especially during a documented regional outbreak—should trigger immediate safeguards and a clear paper trail. Instead, what followed was silence.
A Pattern Larger Than One Case
Across Texas, county jails routinely outsource medical care, understaff clinical services, and invoke broad legal exemptions to block scrutiny. Serious medical events are frequently classified as “natural causes,” “unknown complications,” or “suicide,” while oversight exists largely on paper. Accountability, too often, does not.
When medical interventions occur behind locked doors—without consent, without documentation, and without disclosure—they stop being healthcare. They become state power exercised through the body.
What I Am Asking For
I am not asking the public to accept conclusions. I am asking for what the law already requires:
Full disclosure of all medical records related to the injection,
Preservation of evidence (including inventory and audit logs),
Independent medical review by qualified experts,
and external investigation into custodial medical practices.
If a pretrial detainee can be injected with an unidentified—or implausibly explained—substance during a documented outbreak, and the responsible agency refuses transparency, the risk is not hypothetical. It is structural.
Sunlight is not anti-law-enforcement.
It is the minimum standard of justice.
Until full records are released and independently reviewed, Williamson County’s medical practices remain not just questionable—but dangerous.