I’ve been in open prison for a while now and I’ve landed a job in reception. Once again I am welcoming new arrivals to the prison and helping them to acclimatise. But this time it’s profoundly different. The last time I did this job was in a local prison where new arrivals came into Victorian conditions from court at the start of their sentence. This was where all the trappings of life as you knew it were taken away.
Now though, coming to open prison, it’s about starting to re-integrate back into society – or not. On a few occasions each week I see lads coming to reception at the end of their sentence. I never begrudge them, every day brings me closer to my own bon voyage. But it’s nice actually seeing them go. On one occasion a lads family had brought a banner that must have been 12 feet wide bearing the legend ‘Welcome home Daddy!’ – another day I saw 4 lads alight from a car as their mate approached. All 5 spontaneously performed a dance ritual that had been on hold for this reunion. Some leave alone on prison transport headed for a train or bus station. But I have yet to see a man that was unhappy to be headed down the hill to the world outside.
Then there are the others. The ‘swagged out’. Sadly I also see the lads that are surrounded and grabbed by staff before being brought to reception in handcuffs. They are searched before being locked in a holding cell. These are the lads on their way back to closed conditions – usually a local prison. It must be like hitting the big snake on square 98 of snakes and ladders – boom – right back to the start. Some of these lads have committed multiple transgressions and might have been waiting for the tug, others might have been caught unawares, but either way they all follow the same routine. To a man I have seen them sat quietly, head in their hands as they realise they face a shithole prison, 23 ½ hrs bang up a day. Back to Crappy food, no cooking, no gym, no outside exercise, crap access to phones and showers and barely feeling the sun on your face.
Men on indeterminate sentences (where the parole board must approve release) could see their stays in prison extended by years, hoping to someday be given a second chance to return to open conditions to prove they can do things right. I fall in to that category, which is why their fate has served as a stark reminder to me. Perhaps the greatest peril facing any prisoner is complacency. That sense of hubris that comes when you start to get comfortable and forget that every perk and privilege you hold is in the prison services gift. Those that think they are above it all will have plenty of time to reflect on as they depart on a sweat box.
While a banner would be nice, success is simply managing to one day walk out of here.
