As an ex-con, I would have leapt at the chance of an early release – before I knew the reality of life outside

I had things a lot easier than most, writes Chris Atkins. During my time inside, I obtained a degree and had people waiting for me on the other side

The government’s early release scheme was launched this week (PA)

A phrase I often heard inside was “your sentence starts the day you leave prison”. To an outsider, this sounds completely crazy. Surely leaving jail should be the happiest day of your life?

But to those entrenched in the criminal justice system (and I include myself in this description, having been given five years for tax fraud in 2016), it’s a painfully accurate take on the difficulties faced when leaving custody.

To be fair, I had it a lot easier than most. I left Spring Hill on the 28 December 2018, after being transferred there from Wandsworth 9 months into my sentence. Although my request to leave a few days early to make it home in time for Christmas was denied, when I did get out, my ex-partner and then-six-year-old son were waiting for me in the car park, before I was reunited with my friends and family in a north London pub. I had even sorted a flat and lined up some work for the new year.

As an open prison, Spring Hill was much more geared towards rehibilition. I managed to obtain a degree in psychology from Oxford Brookes University and my friends worked at a nearby Pret, meaning they had saved enough for a flat by the time of their release, and had employment sorted before they even left the prison gates.

Despite having a safety net, I had a really strong sense of anxiety about the future. For the previous 30 months I hadn’t had to worry about bills, rent, and providing for my family. Now I had to deal with all the banal realities of the outside world, which I’d been completely separated from for two and a half years – and the transition was painfully overwhelming.

Many other ex-cons find the point of release far more challenging. One of the more regressive features of the system is that prisoners aren’t able to apply for benefits while they are still inside, which means they can only start the process on the day they leave custody. This means that a large number of offenders leave jail with nowhere to stay, and have a stark choice to either sofa surf or sleep on the streets – both are a magnet for more crime, as often the only place to crash a drug den.

Now, you may feel that there are more pressing problems in the world than finding criminals a bed to sleep, but prisoners without accommodation are far more likely to reoffend, which means more victims of crime.

I made some very close friends inside, and was shocked by how many of them returned to prison so soon after we’d been released. It’s why I’ve written a book, Time After Time, which follows the lives of a dozen repeat offenders to find out why we have such high levels of recidivism.

A key problem is a complete lack of state support for this immediate period after release.

One character, Eric, suffers from schizophrenia and regularly hears voices telling him to kill people. While he was serving his sentence he was given strong medication which dampened his symptoms, but when he got out, his treatment was abruptly stopped and he couldn’t even take his meds out the gate. He had to re-register with a new GP to get reassessed, and all the while he wasn’t taking his anti-psychotic pills.

He had zero support from the probation service to access treatment, and he soon had an episode on Christmas Day. This put him in breach of his license and he was recalled back to jail. He told me that it was more like a rescue than a recall, and he felt far more comfortable inside where he could go back on his meds.

This shows how bad things are for prisoners on release – that it’s often so bleak in the outside world that they would rather be back in custody. Ex-inmates also struggle to get paid employment, as they face the unforgiving stigma of their pasts. This is hugely counterproductive, as offenders with jobs are far less likely to commit further crimes.

I was fortunate that I work in media, where standards of behaviour are so low that tax fraud seemed like a minor misdemeanour, and I soon found gainful employment making documentaries about music. But most other ex-cons don’t have that privileged option, and find their CVs flying into the bin simply because of one terrible mistake in their pasts.

For this reason, I did feel a glimmer of hope when James Timpson was appointed prisons minister, as he’s long blazed a trail by hiring convicts and his key-cutting business has thrived as a result.

All these problems are set to be made worse by the new measure of releasing prisoners after 40 per cent of their sentences, however, which came into force this week. By lopping off the last period in custody, these prisoners are losing those crucial weeks when they are supposed to be planning for what they do when they get out.

While I would have been thrilled to get out three months early, this measure is simply a quick fix and an initiative that will only serve to delay the pain, ultimately increasing the number of reoffenders.

Even witnessing the scenes outside HMP Wandsworth on Tuesday, of joyous ex-cons celebrating with champagne as they were reunited with friends and loved ones, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Because the sad part is; once the champagne is drunk and the hangover has passed, they will find life on the on the outside pretty hard if they haven’t done any work beforehand to line up opportunities.

What we need are grown-up, evidence-based policies that address the root causes of the reoffending crisis, as more short-term measures will just sentence the public to another decade of crime caused by repeat offenders.

Chris Atkins is a former convict, British journalist and filmmaker. He is also the author of Time After Time