Tag: Employment -

Criminal Records Ruin Lives

Obsidian Black

It’s now more than thirty-three years since I was released from prison. I thought then, naively, that the worst was over. I had served two years of a three and a half year sentence. But I didn’t realise then that the real punishment hadn’t even begun.

I’m not complaining about being sent to prison; I deserved it. I was just eighteen and had done something terrible when I was wild-drunk and running with a gang; so I’d got my just desserts. What I didn’t understand at the time was that I had actually been sentenced to eighty-two years as a near-unemployable pariah. Under current laws, I will have a criminal record until I’m one hundred years old.

The sentence didn’t begin to take effect immediately. Once released on parole I went straight back to work in an engineering factory, but my apprenticeship was ruined. I wasn’t allowed to continue it because of union rules. I would have been over twenty-one by the time it was completed and that wasn’t allowed. So the first stage of the life-long punishment was to restrict me to semi-skilled work. But I didn’t let that happen.

At twenty, still on parole, and at the encouragement of my Probation Officer, I became a Probation Volunteer. I’d learned to my cost how easy it is to go out on the raz with some mates, load up on drink and drugs and, if things get out of hand, end up in prison. So I was encouraged to use that experience for the benefit of others; and I did. I ran a small group for young men on probation using my engineering skills to teach motor mechanics. It went well, and I learned that I loved teaching and helping others. My parole expired with no further problems. I was officially a free man. But that was an illusion.

Still determined to reach my potential, I left the production line, went to college and qualified as a technician. I got good grades and found work in the entertainment industry in London. It was the mid-eighties and there was plenty of work and money. But I’d become disenchanted with the depth of relationship a man can have with machines, and I still wasn’t satisfied by manual labour so, after travelling extensively across Europe and Asia, I returned to education. I’ve always loved to study so I planned to take two A levels over two years during the day, and another over one year in the evenings. I worked the rest of the time as a barman, a pot-washer and a decorator. By the end of the first year my grades were so good that my tutor encouraged me to go straight to university; so I applied.

I still wanted to continue my work with young offenders, drinkers and drug users to help others avoid the pit I’d fallen into. In the summer before the university term began, I trained and started work as a volunteer alcohol counsellor, and I got some work as relief worker in a hostel. When it became apparent I was just as bright and committed as the paid staff, I decided to make a career of it. With my shiny new A level and my engineering qualification I was accepted onto a social work course as a mature student. Then, on the first day, the true extent of my sentence started to become clear. Although it was now was ten years since my conviction, I had to fill out a form disclosing my offence – and was promptly dismissed from the course. One of the lecturers, someone very committed to the ethos of rehabilitation, was sympathetic to my situation. He offered me a place on a psychology course, but he also advised me to tell the staff at the counselling agency and the hostel about my record – up until that point I’d never been asked – so I disclosed; they both sacked me on the spot. There was a clear ‘us’ and ‘them’ distinction to be made. I was clearly labelled as one of ‘them’ and so could not become one of ‘us’ for fear that the reputation of their agencies would be tarnished. I was clearly too bad to become good.

Nevertheless, I continued my degree and I loved it. I gained first-class marks for my dissertation and only missed an overall ‘first’ by three marks. I became committed to the idea of education as a way out of unhealthy and unhelpful lifestyles. With good grades and references, I applied for a place in clinical psychology, and I was offered interviews for two prestigious courses. I accepted – and then told them about my record. The offers were immediately withdrawn. Fourteen years on; and still too bad to be good.

After graduating, I got some part-time sessional work teaching A levels at the local college; no questions asked. Then I got a full time job with the Probation Service – full disclosure notwithstanding – and I did well. After a few months my manager suggested I go for a master’s in social work. I attended an interview and was offered a place on the course. You can probably guess the next bit – so, instead, I took a job with the National Association for the Care and Resettlement of Offenders; they had a specific policy of not excluding ex-offenders. I worked hard and did well running training courses for health and criminal justice professionals. But, after four years, the funding ran out and I was made redundant so I went to work part-time in a prison assessing drug use and offering harm reduction advice. The Governor knew about my record and was enlightened about reformed characters helping others. Then one of my NHS contacts suggested I apply for a full-time job with them. As it was now eighteen years since my offence, I was considered rehabilitated enough and got a great job in the NHS. I did well for the next seven years, and worked my way up to being a commissioning manager – even after disclosing my record. Things seemed to be looking up, and my past was well behind me.

However, over the next two years, scandals of child abuse in care homes started to emerge, Dr. Harold Shipman was convicted of mass murder, the Criminal Records Bureau (CRB) was launched and Ian Huntley murdered Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. Everyone in health and social care was twitchy, and employers started covering their backs. Policies on employing ex-offenders were rapidly redrawn. My manager came to me and said that I was going to have to leave; it was nothing personal, just a matter of policy. It was now twenty-five years since my conviction.

I could have fought it at a tribunal, but that would have meant going public about my past and would have been wholly counterproductive. The only way out was to become self-employed; so I did. At that time, limited companies weren’t subjected to the same kind of scrutiny as employees because everyone was too busy purging their existing workforce and vetting new appointments. Limited companies offering consultancy had an air of legitimacy about them that job-seeking individuals did not. That tactic lasted for a couple of years until the care industry caught up with the changes in legislation and effectively ended the rehabilitative culture by screening everyone for everything. A friend of mine even lost his job in a fence-building company when his employer won a contract to install fences around schools – even though his record had nothing to do with kids, no-one was taking any chances. The ‘us’ and ‘them’ was now more clearly defined and supported in law. No more could one-time poachers become worthwhile gamekeepers.

Since its inception in 2002, at least 150,000 ‘unsuitable people’ have been prevented from working with children and vulnerable adults as a direct result of a CRB check; and I’m one of them. Even though I have never harmed a child or a vulnerable person – or even hit a healthy adult – I became labelled as ‘unsuitable’, and the breadth with which the terms of CRB checks were applied is staggering. Because local authorities, the NHS and charities look after vulnerable people, and were all falling over themselves to demonstrate their commitment to protecting the young and vulnerable, doors were slamming shut all around me. As a result, I no longer qualified even to be a dustman in the town where I was working as an interim manager in local government. The menial, manual labouring jobs usually available to ex-cons – parks workers, cleaners, road-sweepers etc. – were suddenly locked behind a screen of suspicion, and the chance to work in an office with the respectable people became completely unattainable.

To find work I found myself having to download my record onto websites at the application stage, without knowing who was reading it or what would happen to it next. In the real world – and despite the rhetoric – if you have a criminal record you don’t actually qualify for confidentiality or privacy. Your past is considered public business – and people love to gossip. Even the agencies funded by the taxpayer to support the rehabilitation of offenders lurched into the fray. They would all print nice little blurbs saying that having a record wasn’t “necessarily a barrier to employment,” but they still had the right to know about it and discriminate against people because of it. The well-intentioned Rehabilitation of Offenders Act (1974) had been torpedoed as effectively as the General Belgrano, and ex-offenders everywhere were drowning in the raging waters of a moral backlash.

Every society seems to need an ‘out-group’, a bunch of people we can all point at to feel good about ourselves by claiming we are better than they are; ex-offenders were now, definitely, that group. After nearly two years on the dole, and in grave danger of losing my home and not being able to support my teenager, I went to my MP. His response was chilling: “It’s a tough life, get used to it.”

Then, at last, and after making a full disclosure at the application stage, I got a job with one of the country’s biggest rehabilitation charities famed for “turning lives around”. My background, skills and experience made me ideally suited to the role and my presentation at the interview went very well. But the managers hadn’t read my application form thoroughly; they hadn’t read my disclosure. So, after two weeks in the job, and having been introduced to nearly one hundred colleagues, I was dismissed when the CRB check came back. But it wasn’t as simple as that. First I had to go through a risk assessment. What happened in this session was that I was dragged back through the most difficult and shameful period of my life by someone who was still in primary school at the time. The risk assessment used was the same as the one the Probation Service use with people very recently convicted, and I was treated as if I had committed my offence just the day before. It was a truly gruesome experience; like having your soul scorched with a magnifying glass for the sadistic sense of power it brought to my employer. Then the results were phoned through to one of the agency’s directors; I was never told their name. The decision to fire me was made on policy alone and delivered over the phone the next day. The results of the assessment weren’t even relevant; there was no evidence of risk to either clients or colleagues, just the reputation of the employer. There had been no need to put me through that at all. Oh, and would I “be a love” and drop the keys off.

It was obvious to all my suddenly ex-colleagues why I had had to leave – so no confidentiality for me. Bumping into them at social events afterwards was excruciating. And long-gone was the right to rehabilitation that the charity earned its £50+ million per year from. My family and I were devastated; my child had been overjoyed when I finally got work and had been looking forward to the first proper holiday together for two years. Never underestimate the toll that parental unemployment takes on the kids. And then I had to explain why it had happened. It’s tough explaining to a thirteen year old why everyone hates their dad.

My career for the last twenty-six years has been in health, social care and education. Employment agencies in those fields now use “a clean CRB/DBS within the last 12 months” as a form of qualification; a qualification I can never obtain in this lifetime – and not the way such vetting procedures were intended to be used. CRB and DBS checks have shut me out, and no-one is taking on inexperienced beginners in their fifties – no matter what the trade or profession. Imagine you are over fifty, and applying for work. Think about how you’d feel if you had to be risk-assessed based on how you behaved during your worst five minutes on one wild night out when you were just eighteen. That’s how the system works.

Now, it’s easy to say “There are other ways of earning a living.” But, if you actually read job adverts, you’ll see they all demand previous experience of the role on offer; either that, or you have to be twenty-one and fresh out of college. The notion of ‘transferable skills’ is no more meaningful than most buzzwords. The last full-time job I applied for, reverting to my engineering background, was as a surveyor for a solar panel installation firm. I passed the interview and they offered me the job on the spot. Then they asked for a CRB check – not previously mentioned in the advert or the person spec. I showed them the one I had from the charity job a couple of years previously, and that was that; there’s the door.

And it’s even easier to say “Well, you shouldn’t have done it, should you.” And you’d be right. I’ve got no argument with that, or with the concept of a criminal record as a deterrent, or with the police and courts keeping records of crimes committed to be taken into account in any future sentencing. But deterrents only work for premeditated crimes, and mine wasn’t. And the whole point of punishment is to bring about a correction to behaviour, which I achieved over thirty years ago. So, how long should a punishment continue? How long should the state, its institutions and its charities punish someone for a teenage crime with such ruthless, systematic social exclusion? Eighty-two years? That’s a life sentence.

In the last four years, I’ve applied for over four hundred jobs, and now I’ve lost my home. I’m trying to survive on £150 pw as a part-time unskilled worker with no benefits or state support of any kind – and I’m taking another degree. Maybe, this year, my offence will finally become spent, but only if I don’t want to work to help or educate others. That kind of work is now permanently ring-fenced for the saintly; enhanced DBS searches reveal everything to almost anyone who asks. Everyone is treated as a potential paedophile, and that is the justification used for the removal of the right to privacy – just as the prevention of terrorism is used to justify mass surveillance.

At the last election my previous MP was replaced by a man who summed up the situation very nicely. He said “You’ve been caught in a net never intended for you.” It was good to have that recognised, but I still can’t pursue my profession, and there are still hundreds of thousands of us trapped in that net.

Unnecessary checks are a crime – and should be reported to the police

To paraphrase Ken Livingstone, if legislation changed anything it would become illegal.

The aptness of that phrase should surprise no one observing the mad world of vetting checks. As the Manifesto Club’s recent report shows, little has changed despite the Protection of Freedoms Act. Unnecessary criminal record checks still continue. And although the club’s report focuses on school parent volunteers, a similar pattern exists elsewhere.

The Scouts, who have conducted over 10 million taxpayer pounds worth of ‘free’ checks, seem oblivious to the legislative change. Their ‘updated’ vetting rules list so many types of people requiring checks that many Scout Groups probably still think it easier to vet every parent. And student tutoring schemes also show few signs of reducing checks.

The GOLDEN rule of these schemes, which place university students in schools for 3-4 hours a week, is that students are ALWAYS supervised. But while Bath University is reviewing its policy, others continue taking a hard line. At the LSE, Reading and other universities checks on students continue unabated.

At London’s Imperial College, student tutoring manager Dr Annalisa Alexander told me “I would never send a student to a school without an enhanced clearance certificate and the schools we work with require it”, adding “I would not like any of my students to be left on their own with a class”. Clearly the universities cannot object to their students being checked – at their expense – as doing so would endanger these valuable schemes.

One often overlooked problem with illegal checks is the devastation they can sometimes cause. In my youth work, I encountered examples of parents – sometimes on their second marriage – finding themselves being automatically banned from working, even with their own children, after an unnecessary vetting check revealed a long forgotten conviction.

The independent charity UNLOCK, which seeks equality for people with previous convictions, know more than most that many unlawful checks take place every year. For their clients, having to undergo an unnecessary check often destroys any attempt at rehabilitation, as many employers automatically reject anyone with convictions, no matter how old they are.

UNLOCK recommend complaining about unnecessary checking requests to The Ministry of Justice (MOJ). The MOJ ‘owns’ the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act (ROA) and The Exceptions List of this act provides the basis for whether or not a role requires a check. But as UNLOCK’s Christopher Stacey points out, “The Ministry of Justice are poor in their attempts to police the ROA Exceptions”

Stella Francoise of the MOJ’s Sentencing Policy and Penalties Unit told me they have no enforcement function. She said that complaints about illegal checks should be directed to the Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS). The DBS recently introduced a procedure to allow the person being checked to request a delay while the DBS asks the checking body to confirm their request is legitimate. But the MOJ gave no indication about what punishment would be administered to those found breaking the law. And as Christopher Stacey notes, the number of prosecutions for illegal checks “Stands at none”.

With the DBS and MOJ both apparently trying to avoid enforcing the law, one wonders if a more direct approach would work. Requesting an illegal criminal records check is a CRIME under The Police Act 1997. It carries fine of up to £5000 and/or a maximum 6 month prison sentence. And crimes should, I argue, be reported to the police.

It is an untested route, but one wonders what action the police would take over an illegal check. It would also be fascinating to watch the reaction of the Scout Group leader or the zealous head when having to explain their intentions to Knacker of the Yard! I currently have no reason to do such a thing, but if anyone else does – and wants to try it – then please share the result.

Shaun Joynson is a former teacher and Scout Leader who supports the Manifesto Club’s Campaign Against Vetting.

This article was originally published on the Manifesto Club website, and thank you to Shaun for his permission to republish the article here.

It’s a long time a-comin’

IanC

Like an addict seeking their fix, the highs (and lows) of debating LASPO continue. Will it, won’t it? When? “I heard that . . .” and “I read on a website . . .” There follows a brief recap for those enraptured with government promises and especially for those who truly believe in the promised land.

Recently, the Dholakia inquiry gave the ROA a good airing. Many proposals were put forward – this was to be THE rehabilitation revolution. Good things were proposed, Kenneth Clarke was all for it and even Lord McNally for the government agreed and said in the Lords; “ . . . so that when we bring forward proposals they will very much reflect the content and the spirit of the legislation that he, [Dholakia], has put before the House today”.

Meanwhile, waiting with bated breath stood the believers. Unknown to all, in the background Clarke was removed and we got LASPO instead. A rather, or extremely diluted, version of what had been suggested and agreed, focusing on cost cutting and a reduction in legal aid as the main points. Never mind, some previous offences could now be legally hidden, (the operative word being hidden); nothing had been stepped down or deleted but . . . better than nothing, for some.

The one point that nobody addressed is the ease with which companies, employers and privately set up companies for this very purpose could still access people’s previous convictions. Employers still requiring SARs or even illegally demanding CRB, (DBS) checks. Roll on spring 2013 thought the believers . . . and nothing happened.

Meanwhile, it was decided, (after the government had been dragged to the European court, kicking and screaming), that those with only one previous conviction might be allowed to have it deleted after many years, but again . . . well, some time in the future, maybe? A little like the prisoner voting issue where Cameron said it made him “physically ill” and echoed the majority views of Parliament that the government would do the minimum to comply with the ECHR?

Feverishly, our believers waded through countless websites, wrote to their MPs and debated on the forum . . . anything for a glimmer of hope. Posts were also made suggesting that because a company website said they don’t discriminate, then that meant one could find employment there; forgetting that companies are not allowed to discriminate by law and so they would say that, wouldn’t they? Hope and belief turned to, well, stupidity? The buzz words, ‘equality’, and ‘non- discrimination’ had, I envisage, a hollow ring to those who tried to gain employment from information supplied on these company websites and again, the lows and despair followed. The naivety and backlash I received when stating this on a previous occasion shocked me.

‘We must obey’ shout the herd, ‘You must declare’ argue the unemployed, ‘it says so on a website’ say the believers . . . After all your dealings with the State and the CJS, do you still really believe that the government are acting in your best interests? Are you still awaiting help and hoping for change because you read it somewhere, or some politician said something that you interpret as hope?

The change will come; it will come slowly and it will be opposed at every stage not only by the government, but also by the public. Fifty years ago the UK still had the death penalty and rehabilitation itself is still a new concept in historical terms. The way forward is to ditch the sheep mentality, learn to think for yourselves, not rely on others . . . or continue to believe and face the highs and lows of a self-inflicted idealism.

More than just getting a job

Sarah Viney

There is a never ending emphasis on the benefits of gaining employment especially when it comes to crime reduction. Increasing employability has become a mutual goal for those involved with sentence planning from the very beginning with questions surrounding previous employment in a ‘pre-sentence’ report, throughout the incarceration period when interventions include ‘preparation for employment’ and ‘focus on resettlement,’ right up to when the reduction in risk factors are calculated by attempting to quantify how much you are likely to enter a job upon release.

The benefits of employment are huge to a lot of people of course – benefits include building new friendships and learning new skills that increase ‘self-worth’ and ‘confidence’. They include an increase in income that can help with debt, and benefits. They include filling the ‘empty’ space within time – the time alone thinking, blaming, searching for something, trying to figure it all out. However employment can also deprive people of reaching the goals that matter most in life. It is increasingly difficult for the majority in today’s society, with increasing demands on organisations, for employees (especially women with children) to achieve a healthy work-life balance. Relationships break down and children suffer.

I was driving on the motorway today and ‘trying to figure it all out’ – I imagined the motorway stretching towards the sea and all the cars were travelling forwards just like our lives ageing. Everyone travels in the same direction although each has a different destination. In life we are all travelling the same way but journeys take various routes and some are longer than others. Feel the frustrations of traffic, queuing for miles, what if this is like employment? Moving happily for so long when it begins to rain heavily, one of the exits closes due to flooding, increasing numbers travelling towards the next, one gets distracted with the back wipers, a pile up, stand still.

No matter how much you planned your journey that morning ‘you are stuck.’

I have always been a big believer in a ‘can do attitude.’ I have achieved so much through this attitude myself including published work in a self-help booklet for women that won an NHS Innovation Award and I am now approaching my final year at one of the most prestigious Universities in England. After flying up that motorway I am moving, getting closer to where I want to be, however after applying for a graduate training scheme and coming to a ‘stand still’ this morning even I am questioning whether I ‘can do.’ How can we ever progress if others do not ‘support’ that opportunity? We can be in control, we can change our behaviour and we can learn skills like better coping strategies. We can become emotionally aware and focus on our future, plan as good if not better than any other, and ‘believe’ in ourselves. However we need society to create equilibrium by also building on awareness, by becoming fair and honest in their policies, by supporting and encouraging goals, and by becoming a driver of ‘self-belief.’ There are still so many ‘gaps’ in opportunities of inclusion.

How can a company say on their website how much:
‘we are proud to be a diverse business. Without an inclusive policy, we would miss out on significant talent within the community. In the UK we have the most socially diverse customer base of any retailer and we want our workforce to reflect the communities we serve.’

Then refuse someone the opportunity to apply for a graduate training scheme on the basis of them having an unspent criminal conviction. If they were to reflect on their ‘emotional’ awareness they would be answering questions such as ‘Why are we including this policy?’ And looking within at ‘Who will benefit from this policy?’ I feel that some companies are more than willing to employ ex-offenders in low level employment, paying minimum wage, in order to achieve ‘corporate responsibility’ status within [their] communities (which in itself is debatable).

An issue I am increasingly passionate about is how some of these low level entry positions can add to the many factors related to persistent offending OR first time offending; low self-esteem, financial difficulty. And in particular these types of ‘employment opportunities,’ if they deserve to be called this, are well known in several research studies to have an impact on mental health and emotional well-being, not just on offenders but on society at large. Bring on David Cameron’s Happiness Survey?!! I would personally like to see the ‘Big Society’ doing more towards ensuring equal opportunity where it doesn’t just settle for allowing ex-offenders and other groups the ‘opportunity’ to clean toilets for a living.

Ignorance of those left behind can impact upon those ‘high flyers.’ Mental Health of employees costs businesses an estimated £26 billion a year in absenteeism and reduced productivity.

If companies were honest with themselves about why they choose to have inclusion policies, just like if an individual were honest with themselves about what they have responsibility for, then the answers can be reflected upon, thought about and built upon. Risks may have to be taken, anxieties may have to be felt and channelled positively, but the rewards can be massive, and ‘can’ be achieved instead of arriving at a ‘stand still.’

Investments present an element of risk. Investing in an individual feels a lot more rewarding than investing on the stock exchange as it is investing in a life, a ‘being,’ a ‘community,’ that can have so many rewards and create a ripple effect. You get out what you put in! Speculate to accumulate. Just think about what you can put into an employer-employee relationship. Trust, empathy, support, encouragement, belief. And risks can be pooled. There are opportunities of government support for companies with the ‘development’ of employees so in all honesty the risks don’t have to be that great. The hard work would be about adapting the organisation to fit in with the current Government Work Programme.

This is exactly what I had in mind for the position that I wanted to apply for. I would have taken my own initiatives, worked in my own time on something I am passionate about, and developed policies and procedures that would adapt that company to support from the government in exchange for developing their workforce thus providing job ‘satisfaction’ and increasing productivity. Creating an environment that deeply embeds the values surrounding ‘more than just a job.’ They have missed out on my ‘talent.’ Oops I think they need to reflect upon the wording of their inclusion policy.

An interviewee answering a question relating to the ‘social evils’ of society suggested:
‘We are in danger of losing sight of what is important in life, like kindness, playfulness, generosity and friendship. The immaterial things that can’t be bought and sold. We can quantify money better than we can quantify happiness and contentment. So we chase it, rather like a rainbow, deceiving ourselves that it will deliver that elusive happiness and contentment.’ (JRF) [http://www.jrf.org.uk/sites/files/jrf/social-evils-consultation-report.pdf]

Therefore, ‘Employer Engagement’ ought to practice what it preaches – A ‘relationship,’ NOT, just a formal contract between employer and employee! To be ‘engaged’ means more than just a formal contract it can encompass support and encouragement both ways. For instance the employer supports and encourages development within the individual and the individual supports and encourages development within the company. An honest reflection of ‘work-life’ balance and support based practices. This way there are no losers. There needs to be a balance. Just as within an ‘engagement’ to be married if one member takes more than what the other is able to give then the relationship will break down and suffer ‘emotional’ repercussions that can impact negatively elsewhere on the individual and/or on the organisation.

A productive and happy workforce is not all about what’s on the outside – the qualifications and experience (or should this be appearance?), although these compliment it. It’s about developing foundations that can be built upon. What is on the inside should be made a priority. This entails supporting a comprehensive (holistic) work-life balance to enable growth both within and without.

I would like to see the term ‘employer engagement’ as related to more than just a ‘contract’ – ‘more than just getting a job.’ I want to see employers feed enthusiasm and self-belief.

Taken from Issue 17

A Champion Christmas

Grant Thomas

Monday January 23rd 2012. After a harrowing Christmas and new year period, which was precipitated by my latest bout of depression, sleeplessness and worthlessness, I rather despondently picked up the phone to call the First Step Trust. At this juncture my life had not fully kicked into gear. I had been volunteering in a charity shop for 12 months by this point but I was still heavily stigmatising myself with my mental problems, which I believe were in some part an explanation, not a justification, for my criminal record. I had been arrested twice before for failing to control my explosive temper fuelled by my mood swings. In truth it could, perhaps should, have been more. I escaped punishment on those occasions, but in this instance it was third time unlucky.

April 1st 2009. The G20 protest. Remember that guy you saw on the BBC news, or pictures in the Guardian and Daily Express smashing the window of the Royal Bank of Scotland? Yes, that was me. My most high profile angry and emotional outburst. Less than a month prior to the incident I had been sleeping rough on London’s streets with little help from the authorities. Without an agenda, motivated by little more than boredom, an abundance of pent up frustration was released. I was fortunate not to be incarcerated for my involvement in the riots at the heart of Britain’s financial sector. After admitting my guilt for criminal damage, charges of violent disorder and burglary were dropped. Some may say that I was lucky in light of the aftermath of the August 2011 riots where some people were sent to prison for merely stealing a bottle of water. My conviction led to a £390 fine and a 12 month conditional discharge. I have now paid my debt, financially and to society, and have been in no trouble with the authorities since.

Still, by early 2012 I was in a terrible state. After the phone call, I arranged to go for a meeting at the First Step Trust head office the following Thursday. They are a charity that create employment opportunities for disadvantaged people who want to get back into work whilst working in a real working environment that delivers competitive business services. It is real work, not pretend work. They accept volunteers, referred to as workforce members, who have criminal records, mental health and substance abuse problems. Sometimes more than one are inextricably linked. They have projects around the country which provide opportunities for people to gain valuable experience in mechanics, catering, administration, finance and more.

I was to work at the main office in Woolwich, South East London. Once I started, I soon found working in the finance department the role which best suited me. Initially, the first few months were tough and it just seemed as though I was randomly entering numbers onto spreadsheets without really knowing what I was doing. But gradually, the purpose began to sink in and I now understand what is required to work within the finance department of a real business. I assist in many important roles. As time has passed I have increased in experience and have been given more responsibility. I am capable of completing various tasks alone while at the same time knowing there is supervision there to help me. I can work as part of a team and sometimes help new workforce members. I have had additional support with motivation, job search and interview preparation.

I had not studied since failing to complete a Law degree in 2006, but I have recently started an OCR level 1 bookkeeping course, and will soon be starting a health and safety at work course. Now that I have a structured routine, a regular sleeping pattern and the feeling of going to a ‘job’, it has given me a real sense of purpose. A semblance of hope for the future. Rather than just being another angry and depressed young man who felt as if he had no right to exist alongside everybody else.

My social life has improved drastically. I now exercise regularly. I play badminton at least once per week. I recently completed 20 days of Bikram yoga. I eat more healthily and have even lost 21 pounds in weight. I feel more connected with my friends and family. And I have even enrolled on a module at the Open University, in International environmental policy, in my study towards an Open degree Bachelor of Arts.

Essentially, this time last year I did not consider myself to be highly employable. I now consider myself to be a fully functioning member of society who just wants to have another chance at life. Hopefully I can put my past behind me and live for the future.

For more information visit First Step Trust.

Taken from Issue 18

Finding order after an order

Harley

Harley writes about how a big decision in her teens led to a fulfilling role as an apprentice youth engagement worker through User Voice.

I first realised I wanted to get into this type of job when I was on an order myself.

I realised that working with young people was my passion and I was determined to help make some changes to how they are treated within the criminal justice system. After months of not turning up for college and messing around, I realised if I wanted to get where I needed to in life I would have to work hard. So I did just that and achieved AAB in my A-levels and got a place at university to study Criminology. I then decided I would volunteer at the youth offending service I attended. Through that I found out about an apprenticeship on offer which was in conjunction with User Voice.

The main focus of the post is to engage with young people who are involved with services and provide support and peer mentoring, as well as facilitate sustainable client-led groups. I applied and fortunately got the job. I am based at Positive Steps Oldham and work 36 hours a week. My job involves working with hard-to-reach young people and engaging them in services for the best possible way to get them through their orders. I support their needs in things such as education, housing and employment.

My job also involves finding out from young people how services could be improved and what would make them better suited to their needs. It’s an extremely rewarding role, which has seen me visit the national Youth Justice Convention. This showed me just how dedicated everyone at User Voice is to helping change systems to benefit young people and I am very happy to be a part of this.

One of the main reasons I love my job is because I can relate to the young people and see myself in them. It is really rewarding to see them turn their lives around for the better. While I have been working with young people I have seen them go from not wanting to move away from crime, to graduating from college and representing youths at the Youth Justice Convention. Transitions like this are the highlight of my job. I think the role is highly beneficial for young people who are unwilling to engage in services because they feel they are being judged or not listened to. Young people, especially offending, are much more comfortable speaking to someone they have something in common with and somebody they feel understands them. After speaking to the young people I work with I was really overwhelmed to hear what they said about my position.

One of the youths I work with told me that seeing young people in positions like mine gives him role models and people he could relate to – as well as inspiration to go for similar sorts of jobs in the future. I’m really proud!

Taken from Issue 19

Life beyond prison

Shauna

When Shauna left prison she knew she would have to shed friends and stay motivated.

After being sentenced to five years in prison at the age of 19, life beyond prison become hard to visualise. I am now 22 and have been out of prison for 6 months; I am currently serving the rest of my sentence on probation where I have to report every two months.

When I came out I decided that talking to the same people as before was not going to help me achieve my goals. Losing touch with some of my peers was not an easy thing to do, but I had to stay strong and knew that it was for the best.

On my journey since leaving prison I have experienced more than I ever thought possible. Trying to adjust back into society has given me the tools to direct my life back on the right path. The people that I have in my life at present have given me nothing but positivity and good encouragement. That encouragement along with my past life experience motivated me to get involved in youth work.

I started volunteering with an organisation involved in tackling gang culture in schools and colleges, which was a good opportunity for me to share my experiences with them. In particular I wanted to work with young girls getting involved in crimes and with gang culture.

While doing voluntary work I was still trying to find paid employment; I tried every recruitment process and failed. I started to lose hope of ever finding a job and got tired of asking – but I was hungry for my independence. Eventually I got a much-needed break and was offered a position as
a coffee vendor.

The coffee vendor job opened a door with a light shining through it. That light was User Voice. After I spoke to a few people about what, and more importantly who, the charity represented, I was left thinking life couldn’t get any better and that this was the route I needed to take. After a number of meetings and checks I was offered the position of Trainee Youth Engagement Officer. I’m shadowing at the moment and learning a lot. At this point in my life working with the youth team has given me the lift that I really needed to pursue a career I’m passionate about.

Article taken from Issue 19.

You Might have Won the Battles but I Won the War

Sophie Barton-Hawkins
“LEAVE HER TO DIE”, the words uttered outside my cell supposedly out of earshot. Another suicide attempt. Just another day in HMP for me. Another 855 to go. My life was full of numbers. TG6992… Cell C1-17… 30 red entries… 10 days CC… 10 adjudications…all this after only being in this jail for 60 days! I could decorate my walls with the amount of warning slips, IEP* slips and nicking sheets that were being put through my door on a daily basis, portrayed as a monster, caged in like a bear, roar of a lion. I was by no means “bad”. It was my first time before the courts resulting in a hefty 6 year, 5 year and 4 year concurrent sentence. I did myself no favours by informing the screws upon my reception to the life of HMP that should they bang me up with someone else I would batter them. Now I’m not a violent person I just like my own space. This slip of the tongue followed me throughout the 3 years that I spent within the confines of various 6ft by 8ft concrete boxes. I saw the inside of countless cells, all as scummy as the previous and saw some of the most vindictive, violent and manipulative people in the prison system wearing black and white uniform. I didn’t know how to fight but gave it my all if the need arose, I was trained in karate but not in the raw brawling and pool balls that accompanied many prison fights. I had a sharp tongue and a very quick mind and could often outwit the staff. The only problem with being smart is that the staff punish you for it. I can’t remember how many bouts of basic I did as there were so many and so often. I can’t remember how many times I cut up to ease the pain in my head from being kept caged up, though the scars I still carry are testament to how many times it happened.

I travelled through three prisons in almost as many months, getting moved along only when I had used up all the ink in the red pens for that establishment. In my third and final prison I was curtly informed by the Governor that if my attitude didn’t change then I would be spending as long as he could get away with locked up in the block. I found myself quickly marched down there, still cuffed from the prison transport, after telling him he was singing the wrong words to “Islands in the stream”, possibly not the smartest move of my HMP career but definitely the shock that I needed. I didn’t want to be blocked off, the cardboard table and chair did nothing for the décor of the segregation cells, the bare bed frame bolted to the floor and the mesh on the window filled with rotten tea bags and manky apple cores shook me to the pit of my stomach and the dubious stains spotted along the floor and walls did not bear thinking about as to what part of the body they originated from.

Even though I was in my third prison my reputation as being, in the Governor’s words, “the worst female offender in the prison system” had most certainly preceded me. Even nurses were now giving me red entries! I was sick of basic, sick of the boredom and I wanted my guitar back that was taken from me whilst on basic. What I found out whilst on basic though is that I could write, poetry being the general forte of prisoners I took to it like a duck to water, my note books were filling up charting my days spent in jail and documenting the many lows I went through. Writing made me want to start my education again. I had a good education compared to others in jail so I took 2 A Levels in 6 months, teaching myself as there were no teachers available to give me one to one tuition. I also attended the education block as much as I could and did every course there. Slowly the education staff were coming on my side and giving me good reports in the constant barrage of IEP’s I kept getting. Because of the education staff my wing file was slowly filling up with positive black writing. I became a Toe by Toe mentor teaching others to read as well as being a teaching assistant in the English as a Second Language class. My confidence soared and with it so did my sense of self worth, my behaviour calmed down and my attitude settled. Slowly people were saying my name in a positive manner. I still had a quick tongue and a very hot temper but my slip ups were not recorded as much anymore and I found myself becoming an enhanced prisoner which meant I could access distance learning. I undertook a 2 year creative writing course funded by the Prisoner’s Education Trust and an Open University course funded by Women In Prison.

I was approached one day by the Governor of Diversity and asked to become a diversity representative, in her words “you need to focus your tongue on something positive.” I became the voice of a group of prisoners and represented them in meetings with staff and arranged focus groups for them to have their needs met. I got told I could go for ROTL** if I kept up the good work. So I did.

I started to play the game the way they wanted it played as playing it my way had got me nothing other than a security file that took up half a filing cabinet! I got my first ROTL and went home to see my family for the weekend, this brief glimpse of freedom was what I needed. Upon my return to jail I was completely different, I had something to work towards every month and every month bar one for the remainder of my sentence I went home to see my family for 5 days. After several months of going home my name got put forward to work for Koestler as an art curator putting together an art exhibition at the South Bank Centre showcasing prisoner’s art work that I and several others had chosen to go to exhibition. People who came to this exhibition wanted to hear my story as a prisoner as it was a unique insight otherwise not afforded to the free world. Public speaking was where it was at for me. I had a thirst for it. A thirst for wanting to get the voices of the imprisoned to the minds of the free. From working with Koestler I moved to the open wing and started volunteering for a mental health charity and eventually got paid employment in a hotel and would go to work every day as an equal to those in my work place.

I was no longer imprisoned fully, only at night when I would return from work, and the ball and chain that I was mentally shackled by was getting shorter. I started approaching youth offending teams offering to mentor the young people on their case loads and got offered voluntary employment with Kingston Youth Offending Team. I got to work closely with the young offenders and shared my story of crime and imprisonment to try and steer them away from the path they were walking as well as mentoring them through offending related issues such as anger and drug abuse. From this work my name was referred to the MET police to accompany them into schools and Pupil Referral Units to speak to and educate students there. My name started to be passed around these higher regions and my name started to carry a bit of weight in a good way. I got involved with a charity called User Voice which is an ex offender led service for ex offenders by ex offenders and advised the Government on the Green Paper.

Since my release from prison in September 2010 I still volunteer with youth offending teams and have maintained full time employment constantly. I am approached for public speaking by varied organisations, I advised the BBC on their comedy “Dead Boss” and have had a meeting with Princess Anne where I was introduced as an expert on education in prisons. If someone could have said to me 5 years ago that I would be sat in a room with Princess Anne being treated as an equal then I would have laughed in their face. I am proof that anything can happen as long as you believe in yourself. Don’t let negativity hold you back, transform it into something positive.

*IEP-Incentive Earned Privilege.
You do well you get rewarded by a black entry and if you commit an infraction on the rules you get a negative entry in red pen. 3 of these in a
month results in your privileges being removed such as TV and canteen spend.

**ROTL- Release on Temporary License. When you get half way through your sentence and you fulfil every criteria you can go home for 5 days to
visit family, in my case monthly but this varies from prison to prison.

Article taken from issue 13 of theRecord.