Early one grey and drizzly weekday winter morning, I was outside the main gate of our local prison. The prisoners who are being released can emerge from 08.30 onwards, so I had arrived ten minutes before – that is early for me – and stood there under my umbrella. Mick walked out at 09.05, not a bad time – I once waited until well after eleven. Mick would have been out earlier except that any number of prison staff were queueing up to shake his hand and wish him well, such was the impression he had made on the wing.
The prison chaplain had referred him to a Christian charity I volunteer with: he had asked for help to settle and move forward in life after many episodes of imprisonment for burglary throughout his adult life.
Now in his mid-forties without qualifications or marketable skills, his prospects looked grim. He had already started turning his life around while he had been out on probation earlier. He had found a steady factory job and had been volunteering at a charity café, but ended up back in prison after a confrontation with a fellow resident at their shared accommodation.
There had been a stand-off then a tussle. No-one was injured but the housemate complained to the police and Mick ended up back inside having breached his parole terms. It seemed unfair and Mick was a broken man when I next met him in the visiting suite, facing the prospect of ten more months of this.
Helping hands
The next time I visited, things were looking up: he had been given a position in the kitchen and was keeping busy, so barely had time to see me before returning to preparing the meal – he is always happiest when he is occupied.
Mick is full of gratitude to the prison officers who supported him through this difficult time. Once free he wanted me to help him write a letter of thanks to the governor – so many prisoners have limited literacy and this was something practical I could assist with. I assume that such letters from former prisoners must be rare.
Remarkably, his employer has taken him back on and the other volunteers at the café are delighted to have him back. Things for Mick seem to be on track – it could have been so very different.
I also support Chris who is patiently attempting to teach me to play snooker. I am hopeless, while he is very good and not half bad as a teacher. It strikes me that he has a first-class brain which has suffered from the effects of years of drug use.
Chris tells me that Category C prisons have snooker tables – when you have spent as long in them as he has (theft from shops) you can get to be skilled with a cue.
Trouble waits at the gate
Both of these men are determined to stay out of trouble, but trouble is lurking out there waiting to draw them back into its grim world.
Walking around our city with them you become aware of an entire subculture, based on drugs and petty crime. On leaving the gates of HMP, Mick and I walked down the hill towards the river where he crossed the road. I decided to continue on to the crossing so lost sight of him for a few moments. When I caught up with him, he was talking to someone who moved off as I approached. I asked if that was someone he knew. He paused, then replied that it was someone he knew of – he had been out for five minutes and already he was being offered drugs.
It is in no-one’s interest for Mick and Chris and others like them to be drawn back into their former life. Neither of these guys has a partner – this is often the case.
They both grew up locally and there are family networks with which they have ambivalent on-off relationships: some interactions are okay, others not so. Relatives are embarrassed by them and can be harsh and judgemental.
I have attended appointments at the Jobcentre and probation with them. The genuine warmth and care extended to them is impressive and really affecting to witness, but these agencies can only do so much. Finances are always tight. Prisoners are given a modest grant on release – around £80, hence the dealers lurking in the road. The jobcentre staff offer quite generous initial grants of £300 or so, but these have to be paid back by deductions from subsequent payments.
Learning to manage life outside
Budgeting isn’t something they are used to. Chris spent much of his on a used games console. It’s his money –he can do what he likes – and he reasonably thought it would give him something to do and help to keep him out of trouble. But he ran out of cash to spend on food. Food banks and charities help out. He has started jogging at a local park. This is encouraging – he has a long way still to run. We are not there yet.
We all stand to gain if re-offending rates can be cut, but it is not easy. These former prisoners need help and are asking for our support. Their repeat offending can seem utterly exasperating. It’s destructive for us and for them, and they know it, but they can seem stuck. Just meeting for a coffee and offering a hand of friendship and a chance to talk things through is a start.
