I know that overgeneralising is too easy to do and we are seeing way too much of it in our zero sum world. There is a brutal zero-sum taste to society, you’re either for or against – no fences to be sat on anymore. And by refusing to engage one is generally perceived to be against any petitioner. But hey ho, half the world are wankers.
Anyway, in the world of overgeneralisation I have two examples that I forgive myself for using. These are broadly inspired by the ‘either / or’ attitudes I experienced going in to prison and then when coming out.
During my early days in custody I identified two divergent attitudes among my peers. EITHER they regretted what they had done OR they merely regretted being caught. The former (like myself) would identify that something was broken in their lives and would have a chance of effecting lasting positive changes – at least there would be some motivation. But the latter would generally rail against society and circumstance. They often held entrenched views and their focus was not on change, save for changing the way they operated in order to minimise the risk of being caught.
But when I got out, out I encountered a new divergence. While at work, one of my colleagues found private documents of mine that led to a Google search under my old name (well I wasn’t christened ‘Jailhouse Moose’ – come on!). This person then told somebody, who told somebody and suddenly my offence was widely known. Not ideal when I was a gym manager! I had told my colleagues and a few members that I was in open prison coming to the end of my sentence, but not my offence.
Eventually, one of my team (who I now suspect was the whistle-blower) asked me if I had ever changed my name, that somebody had sent him a link to a newspaper article. My first task was to speak openly with my team and the gym owners ( who knew everything). Then I asked how many members knew. Bollocks, thought I, there’s going to be a protest outside the club.
Now loads more happened in terms of media preparation, informing the prison and my probation officers, all the risk stratification stuff. But my principle concern was a number of girls that I had supported and trained. I never dated anybody at work – I was asexual effectively, which created a safe space to work and for members to train. I had worked with girls who had eating disorders, addictions, chronic anxieties and had fled domestic abuse. In a way it was vocational for me to give back. Not only because I had killed my partner, but I had effectively abandoned my own daughter. I could only hope that somebody else had been supporting her ( turns out there was and is).
So anyway, I figured I should tell these girls firsthand. I braced myself. The first girl, 21 year old, came to the club. “Can we step in to the studio for a minute?” I asked.
“I’m not in trouble, am I” she joked. We stepped in to the studio and I took a breath. “So, you know that I’m in prison at the minute, but things have happened. I think you should know about the offence, because it might be coming out soon.” I was palpitating.
She looked around conspiratorially, then leaned forward and said “Is this about the whole murder thing?” I eventually nodded.
“Yeah, I’ve known for a couple of months now. A few of us were talking about it. Sorry that your private stuff has been put out there.” She was just so matter of fact. “Are you ok?” I asked.
I was humbled by her answer. “All I have ever known of you is that you’re a kind and lovely man. You help everybody. You’ve done your sentence and you’re giving back. I have never seen a man that could commit a crime – so we’re all good. Now, can we do a leg day?” Another client, in her late 30’s, refused to believe I was in prison until I showed her my day release licence. Generally, the people who had known me for two years were shocked, not necessarily because of my crime but because they couldn’t reconcile me committing the offence.
But there’s the other side. The people who don’t know me and have been told about my offence. They’re the ones that point behind my back, my friends have told me some of the conversations that they’ve overheard. Before prison I probably would have been one of the voices. But the reaction of people who judge me for me and not the lowest moment of my life have given me some hope that there is a life for me outside.
I have told all of my work colleagues about my offence (a team of 9 strong women!) and we have had some very open conversations. A couple of them are reading the blog to gain perspective. My offending history is of no consequence to them. They just see a work colleague.
But when it comes to the haters, I was confused why nobody had challenged me. I mentioned this to my pal Miley. He chuckled when I said it, surprised that I hadn’t considered the obvious response, “Moose, you’ve been convicted of killing somebody. What shithouse is going to challenge you face-to-face?”
