This section publishes stories about individuals’ experiences with the criminal justice system.
There are so many ways that people have interacted with the system, and so many stories to tell.
Experiences aims to tell those stories, presented as beautiful feature articles.
I remember Christmas in prison fondly. I was with all my closest friends – my only friends. When they send you to jail, everyone and everything you have goes away.
I put the window down, and the wind rushed through my hair, and, as if by magical happenstance, How to Make Gravy came on the radio. His voice rolled out like it was coming from someone familiar, telling the story of Joe, writing home from prison before Christmas.
I had repeated this phrase to people so many times to emphasise how incredibly unbelievable it is that I failed English and am now going to be a published author.
I needed closure to help me live a normal life, but it was not forthcoming. I was reaching out for closure but it never came.
The inevitable monotony of another day decays your precious time, alongside your brain cells as you get trapped listening to those who surround you once again.
It was the sweltering Sydney summer of '79 and AC/DC was the most potent new rock band on earth.
It was me that created the change, I did it all!! Not prison: prison hurt me, prison did not offer healing or reform my behaviour. Prison deployed its violence onto me that I am still working through today.
“Parole approved pending housing.” This is by far the worst sentence I have heard in prison.
It was just another typical day in jail when word arrived. As soon as my name was called and the paper handed to me at morning muster, mixed feelings of surprise and anticipation began welling up inside.
If parole was ever about rehabilitation, it’s not really the feeling I get now. It feels more like an exercise in assessing the risk to the community, not about reintegrating people.
Monday: I've spent the last hour at the wing pool table losing badly to some madman from Amsterdam. I didn't imagine there'd be a pool table in maximum security but the prisoners enforce respect for it.
Even though it looks like Santa has forgotten us this year, we both have some ill-defined, unspoken hope that it will be a better day.
Skip forward a month; a year; and an odd decade (or 5), and I realised that without embracing change in our lives (or how we see things) we only risk relegating ourselves to stagnation.
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Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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