Candidate Number: Pen 1304
Sara Pennington
Homerton College
Supervised by Dr Amy Ludlow
The experience in open prison conditions and absconds by prisoners
sentenced indeterminately to Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP)
Submitted in part fulfilment of the requirements for the
Masters in Applied Criminology, Penology and Management
18,140 words
January 2015
Abstract
This is an exploratory study of the experience of prisoners sentenced to Imprisonment for Public
Protection (IPP) and housed in minimum security ‘open’ prisons. This study also explores whether
this experience can explain why some IPP prisoners abscond whilst others do not. Semi-structured
interviews were conducted, incorporating life story and Appreciative Inquiry questions, with IPP
prisoners who have absconded from an open prison over the last two years and IPP prisoners who
have not absconded from open conditions. This study has been conducted in a context of increased
political and public focus on how to manage the risks of ‘dangerous’ offenders following a spate of
serious offending in summer 2013 by indeterminately sentenced offenders in open prisons. The study
draws on previous research in various fields including ‘pains of imprisonment’, theorising in relation
to ‘compliance and legitimacy’ and ‘open prisons, desistance and abscond’. More broadly, the
research is set within the theoretical framework of the ‘new penology’ and the ‘dangerousness’
debate. Analysis of quantitative data highlights a much higher and increasing rate of abscond by IPP
prisoners compared with other offenders and forms the focus of the study. The qualitative interviews
conducted with 23 IPP prisoners, 12 of whom had absconded, found a deepening sense of illegitimacy
and a negative evaluation of the prison experience. The ‘pains’ of ‘moving goal posts’, ‘uncertainty’,
‘over-punishment’, ‘loss of identity and control’ and ‘loss of hope’ from the IPP sentence, and the
additional ‘pains of freedom’, including ‘pressure’ and ‘temptation’, in open prison are identified.
These ‘pains’ can explain why IPP prisoners are more likely to abscond. Experienced as the hardest
part of the sentence, open prison was considered only ‘psychologically survivable’ by those of ‘strong
mind’. For absconders, in particular, any positive aspects from the indeterminate nature of the
sentence as an ‘agent for change’ were unravelling, resulting in some resistance and withdrawal of
consent. These findings prompt the need for an urgent re-consideration of the release test for IPP
prisoners to one which places the burden of proof to demonstrate ‘dangerousness’ on the state.
Practical suggestions are also made for providing a more supportive and trusted open prison
environment for IPP prisoners.
1
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my supervisor, Amy Ludlow for her guidance and support. She has
given advice in the practicalities of conducting prison based research, helped to steer me in
the right direction and given valuable feedback throughout. I also wish to thank the
Governors of the nine establishments who allowed me to visit and conduct interviews with
IPP sentenced prisoners. Most importantly, I am grateful to the participants for speaking so
frankly and openly with me. The research purpose of the interviews aside, I have gained a
valuable insight into the thoughts and needs of IPP prisoners which I can use in my
workplace to help improve the way I govern. Finally, both thanks and apologies to family,
friends and colleagues for being absent at times yet remaining fully supported. It is much
appreciated.
Statement of originality
This dissertation is the result of my own work and includes nothing which is the outcome of
work done in collaboration except where indicated by specific references to or
acknowledgments of other sources.
This dissertation, excluding headings, references and appendices, has a word count of 18,140.
2
CONTENTS
Abstract
Acknowledgements
Statement of originality
1
2
2
Chapter One: Introduction
5
Chapter Two: Literature Review
9
1. Dangerousness, risk and Imprisonment for Public Protection
9
2. The pains of imprisonment
11
3. Compliance and Legitimacy
12
4. Open prisons, desistance and abscond
14
Chapter Three: Methodology
17
1. The Research Design
17
2. The Research Population
19
3. Research Tools
21
4. Data Analysis
22
5. Ethics and Other Consideration
23
6. Generalisability, Reliability and Validity
25
Chapter Four: Findings and Analysis
27
1. Legitimacy deficit
27
2. Agent of change
30
3. Uncertainty
34
4. Moving goal posts
37
5. Over-punishment
39
6. Loss of identity and control
41
7. Loss of hope
44
8. Pressure and temptation
48
3
9. Psychological survival
52
10. Abscond
53
A. Pull factors
57
a. Crisis at home
57
B. Push Factors
58
a. Substance misuse
58
b. Bullying and intimidation
59
c. Trafficking and breach
60
d. Parole Board and prison decisions
61
e. Other factors
62
Chapter Five: Discussion and Conclusions
64
Recommendations
68
Future Research
70
References
71
Glossary
77
Appendix A: Interview Schedule
80
Appendix B: Participant Information Sheet
83
Appendix C: Consent Form
85
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Chapter One: Introduction
In the summer of 2013, three incidents of serious re-offending (a murder, a rape and
attempted armed robbery) were committed by indeterminately sentenced prisoners (ISPs) on
temporary release from ‘open’ prisons. These events promoted considerable political and
public concern about how the risks of ‘dangerous’ offenders are managed (HMIP, 2014). A
national review of release on temporary licence followed, one of the outcomes of which has
been to place much greater restrictions on ‘high risk’ Category D offenders held in minimum
security prison conditions (Ministry of Justice, 2014). As two of the three incidents were
committed by prisoners sentenced to indeterminate Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP),
the cohort of offenders serving IPP sentences is of particular concern.
Although attention has focused on temporary release failure and serious re-offending, the
Ministry of Justice (MoJ) review found that only a small number of ISPs who ‘fail’ in open
prisons do so because of a breach while released on temporary licence, and relatively few are
arrested for a suspected further offence (MoJ, 2013). According to the evidence, 501 ISPs
were recorded as moving back from open to closed conditions between April 2012 to January
2013, but only 5% of these ‘failed’ on temporary release. Instead, failure in open prisons is
more likely to be for reason of abscond, accounting for 21% of ‘failures’ during this period.
The majority of ‘failures’ are, in fact, pre-emptive moves back to closed conditions following
a breach of rules or assessment of ‘heightened risk’ for reasons including a positive drug test,
possession of contraband or disruptive behaviour.
5
Further analysis of data provided by the National Offender Management Service (NOMS)
highlights the significantly higher rate of abscond by IPPs compared with life sentenced
prisoners (lifers) and those serving a determinate sentence (see Table 1).
12 months to
IPP
Life Other Total
March 2012
59.1
31.0
32.7
35.4
March 2013
87.0
28.6
28.7
36.5
March 2014
98.5
35.6
26.9
37.2
Table 1: Rate of absconds for each sentence type per 1,000 prisoners held in open conditions
for respective sentence type. (NOMS, 2014)
In the 12 months to March 2014, IPP sentenced prisoners were almost three times more likely
to abscond than lifers and almost four times more likely to abscond than determinately
sentenced prisoners. The rate of absconds per 1,000 prisoners held in open prisons was 98.5
for IPPs, 35.6 for Lifers and 26.9 for determinately sentenced prisoners from April 2013 to
March 2014. Moreover, the rate of absconds by IPPs has almost doubled over the past three
years from 59.1 per 1,000 in the 12 months to March 2012 to 98.5 in the 12 months to March
2014. In contrast, the rate of absconds by determinately sentenced prisoners has steadily
reduced from 32.7 to 26.9. The rate of absconds by lifers has fluctuated, but slightly
increased over the three year period from 31 absconds per 1000 prisoners to 35.6. The slight
upward trend in overall absconds from 35.4 to 37.2 over the last three years is clearly being
driven by the IPP cohort in the open prison population.
So analysis of the quantitative data clearly highlights that IPPs are disproportionately more
likely to ‘fail’ in open prisons and that this is frequently due to reason of abscond. What
6
remains unclear is why a prisoner, who has been approved by the Parole Board for ‘testing’
in open conditions prior to release, would take the drastic step of absconding at such a crucial
stage in their sentence and face a further term of imprisonment.
This study seeks to shed light on the empirically under-explored question as to why IPP
prisoners are more likely to abscond. The experience of those serving an indeterminate
sentence of imprisonment for Public Protection could be key to understanding this lack of
compliance. Created by the Criminal Justice Act 2003 (CJA 2003), the IPP sentence has been
much criticised as unjust and unsustainable (Howard League, 2007; HMIP, 2008; CJJI, 2010;
Prison Reform Trust, 2007; Jacobson and Hough, 2010; Sainsbury Centre for Mental Health,
2008) The sentence mandated the court to imprison for an indefinite period those convicted
of violent and sexual offences who were deemed to be ‘dangerous’, including 96 offences in
Schedule 15 of the CJA 2003 with a maximum sentence of ten years’ imprisonment. This
‘caught in its net’ offences that would not normally attract a life sentence (Padfield et al,
2012:975). The mandatory nature of the sentence and the presumption of dangerousness were
subsequently removed by amendments introduced by the Criminal Justice and Immigration
Act 2008. The sentence could also no longer be passed, with some exceptions, for a tariff of
under two years. The government subsequently abolished the current IPP sentence as part of
the Legal Aid, Sentencing and Punishment of Offenders Act 2012. However, people currently
serving an IPP sentence remain in prison until directed for release by the Parole Board.
Whilst the 2012 Act gives the Secretary of State power to change the release test with the
option of placing the burden of proof on the state to demonstrate ‘dangerousness’ there has
been no indication that it will be revised (Prison Reform Trust (PRT), 2104). At the end of
June 2014 there were still 5,119 people serving an IPP in prison (PRT, 2014). Of these, 3,620
(71%) remain in prison held beyond their tariff expiry date (PRT, 2014). 18% of prisoners
7
(927) serving IPPs had a tariff of less than two years and 45% (2,290) had a tariff of between
two and four years (PRT, 2014).
As a consequence of the high number of IPP prisoners being held beyond their tariff expiry
date, there is considerable pressure to ‘progress’ IPPs through the prison system. In
September 2012, The European Court of Human Rights delivered judgment in the case of
James, Wells and Lee v United Kingdom (2012) ECHR 1706 that the UK had violated
Article 5(1) ECHR (the right to liberty) by detaining prisoners indefinitely on the grounds of
risk without giving them adequate access to rehabilitative courses. Yet the drive to progress
IPP prisoners to open prisons for ‘testing’ and ‘resettlement’ has to be balanced against the
need for public protection. An exploratory study of the experience of IPP prisoners in open
prisons and how this might explain the high rate of absconds is timely given the dearth of
relevant research.
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Chapter Two: Literature review
This review aims to set the proposed research within the context of the current literature,
existing research findings and theoretical thinking. The key works are identified to develop a
framework within which the proposed research can be both conducted and understood. To
explore the research question regarding the experience of IPP prisoners in open prisons and
why they may abscond, the review of the existing literature draws on four main themes:
Dangerousness, risk and imprisonment for public protection; pains of imprisonment;
compliance and legitimacy; and open prisons, desistance and abscond.
1. Dangerousness, Risk and Imprisonment for Public Protection
A consideration of the shift from ‘old penology’, concerned with rehabilitation and
normalisation of offenders, to ‘new penology’ of risk management and public protection,
provides a general theoretical understanding of why the IPP sentence. In this way, Feeley
and Simon (1992:470) identify the operational goal of ‘new penology’ – a form of ‘actuarial
justice’ - as moving towards ‘waste management’ of offenders. This study will consider how
the concept of a ‘new penology’, ‘risk penality’ (Garland, 2001) or ‘new punitiveness’ (Pratt
et al 2005) applies in practice to the experience of IPP prisoners.
Likewise, the concept of ‘dangerousness’ can aid understanding of the situation facing IPPs.
Bennett (2008) describes how ‘dangerisation’ has led risk to dominate our view, legitimising
a punitive approach to criminal justice. Sentencing policy has shifted from retribution for
what the offender has done to a focus on crime prevention (Padfield, 2010:9). The focus on
9
the prevention of re-offending through incapacitation to protect the public (Padfield,
2010:18) contrasts with Von Hirsch’s key concept of ‘just deserts’ and of proportionality in
sentencing (Von Hirsch, 1993). Padfield cautions (2010:10) that the term dangerous ‘itself is
dangerous - it is impossible to predict who will commit future dangerous acts with
accuracy…The label should be used with very great care’. How detention for public
protection is experienced in practice by IPP prisoners will be explored in this study.
The literature relating to the IPP sentence has been highly critical (Howard League, 2007;
HMIP, 2008; CJJI, 2010; Prison Reform Trust, 2007; Jacobson and Hough, 2010; Sainsbury
Centre for Mental Health, 2008). According to Ashworth & Roberts (2012:889), the
‘dangerousness’ provisions in the CJA 2003 which created the IPP sentence were a
‘penological disaster’. However, with the exception of Addicott’s (2012) exploration of
‘frustrations’ for IPP prisoners, the literature has so far mostly focused on systematic
problems caused by the high use of the sentence. The criticisms include lack of knowledge
about the sentence, the short tariff lengths, the unavailability of programmes to address
offending behaviour and, as a consequence, having to serve longer in custody than is
proportionate to their crimes (Howard League, 2007; Jacobson and Hough, 2010; CJJI,
2010). However, much of this research is limited as it may be influenced by particular
agendas when funding for the research has come from organisations aimed at reform. The
information has also been drawn mostly from observations rather than gathered in a more
objective way directly from prisoners. Yet given the strength of criticism regarding the IPP
sentence, it is clear that further research about its impact involving in-depth interviews with
prisoners is required.
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2. The Pains of Imprisonment
There is a history of literature examining the effects of imprisonment and penal power. In his
classic account of the ‘pains of imprisonment’, Sykes (1958) describes five ‘deprivations’ of
liberty, autonomy, goods and services, heterosexual relationships and security. Likewise,
Foucalt (1977) identified the psychological techniques of discipline as effectively replacing
physical punishment. Similarly, Goffmann (1961:47) describes the ‘mortifications of the self’
experienced by inmates of ‘total institutions’, and Cohen and Taylor (1972) the particular
deprivations felt by life sentenced prisoners and their ‘psychological survival’. McDermott
and King (1988) argued that ‘mind games’ had replaced physical punishment in inflicting
pain on prisoners. Although less ‘heavy’ than in the past, the prison experience has become
‘deeper’ and ‘tighter’ (Crewe, 2012). Crewe describes how penal power has been
transformed in recent years so that relationships between staff and prisoners are forged by
terms of ‘neo-paternalism’ and ‘soft power’ (Crewe, 2014). How ‘soft power’ operates in
open prisons in the UK has not yet been explored.
Highlighting the particular pains felt by indeterminate prisoners despite the ‘softening’ of
penal powers, Crewe (2011) identifies the ‘pains of uncertainty and indeterminacy’, the
‘pains of psychological assessment’ and the ‘pains of self-government’. The ‘liminal’ state of
an indeterminate sentence is likened to that of an incurable illness (Jewkes, 2005). Addicott
(2012) identifies the particular ‘frustrations’ experienced by prisoners serving an IPP
sentence, including lack of information and legitimacy of the sentence, uncertainty and
indeterminacy, disruption of the life course and the need to ‘jump through hoops’ to gain
11
release. The gap in understanding of how ‘penal pains’ are experienced by IPP prisoners in
an open prison environment will be addressed in this study.
Although the literature relating to ‘pains of imprisonment’ almost exclusively relates to the
experience of prisoners in ‘closed’ establishments, a recent study by Shammas (2014) has
focused on a minimum security open prison environment in Norway. He found that, despite
popular images of ‘soft’ incarceration, deprivations do exist. Using Crewe’s (2011) phrase,
Shammas describes open prison power as ‘soft, but tight, with hard edges’ instead of being
‘heavy’. While to Sykes ‘deprivation’ of liberty and autonomy is the source of suffering, in
open prisons it is the ‘pains of freedom’ that cause frustration (Shammas, 2014): ‘Freedom
within constraint is itself the source of experienced pain’ and is a ‘bittersweet privilege’.
Shammas identifies the ‘pains of freedom’ to include ‘confusion’ over roles; ‘anxiety and
boundlessness’ when transitioning from closed to open prison and from open prison to the
world outside; ‘ambiguity’ over seemingly unequivocally beneficial goods and privileges;
‘relative deprivation’ at the taste of freedom; and ‘individual responsibility’ in selfimprovement and discipline. This study explores whether these ‘pains of freedom’ also apply
to an open prison environment in the UK.
Whilst there is rich research and sociological conceptions of prison ‘pains’, only one small
study specifically relates to IPPs. Research in open prisons is also very limited. Most
importantly in relation to this research proposal, there is a gap in the research for a study
which combines both the experience of IPPs and an open prison context.
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3. Compliance and Legitimacy
Theories of compliance could be a useful framework for understanding why some prisoners
abscond from open conditions whereas others do not. The dominant theoretical approach is
that of ‘procedural justice’ based on work by Tom Tyler’s (1990) ‘Why People Obey the
Law’, mainly in relation to policing. He contrasts instrumental and normative modes of
obedience to the law. Normative modes include personal morality (people’s general set of
beliefs as to how they should act) and legitimacy (people’s perceptions of whether law
enforcement rightly has authority over them). He prioritises normative over instrumental
modes of compliance and emphasises the importance of legitimacy. In fact, he identifies
perceived procedural fairness as key, as opposed to whether the outcome is favourable. The
sense of legitimacy, neutrality of procedures and trustworthiness are explored in this study.
Beetham (1991:28) emphasises the link between legitimacy and the quality of compliance
and the effect a lack of compliance has on cooperation. In ‘The Legitimation of Power’, he
states that where power fails to conform to its own rules of legal validity it is ‘illegitimate’. If
it lacks justification in shared beliefs, a ‘legitimacy deficit’ arises which may cause a crisis of
‘deligitimation’ and the withdrawal of consent (1991:20). All prison systems confront
legitimacy deficits, but the severity of deficits is not homogenous (Sparks (1994). Hence,
some prisons are more legitimate or less coercive than others, shaping the level of resistance
and compliance (Liebling and Crewe, 2012). However, research relating to legitimacy and
resistance in prisons has overwhelmingly focused on closed sites. Whether abscond from an
open prison might be related to a legitimacy deficit is explored in this study.
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As is likely in the case of IPP prisoners, if the sentence itself is experienced as illegitimate
this may lead to more negative evaluations of the prison experience (Liebling, 2011). Their
experience may relate to Crewe’s (2009) typology of adaptive positions and forms of
compliance with prison regimes which includes ‘enthusiasts’, ‘pragmatists’, ‘stoics’,
‘retreatists’, ‘players’ and ‘the disengaged’. Straddling the prison and community, the
‘dynamic model’ of compliance with community sanctions in which ‘liquid legitimacy’
might ebb and flow (McNeill & Robinson, 2013:117) may be at least partially applicable in
the open prison context. The role and understanding of legitimacy in an open prison, where
there is no physical barrier and compliance is based on trust, is under-researched so is a key
part in this study.
4. Open prisons, desistance and abscond
There is a paucity of research relating to open prisons with minimum security environments
for Category D offenders. Primarily designed for resettlement purposes and reintegration,
open prisons are used by the Parole Board for the ‘testing’ of indeterminate sentence
prisoners prior to a decision to release. However, there is a need for research to explore how
open prisons fulfil this role and purpose from the perspective of offenders.
In addition to skills development or a change in social circumstances (Sampson & Laub,
1993), the desistance literature suggests that personal agency and reform narratives play a
significant part in the change process (Maruna, 2001; Giordano et al., 2002; Burnett, 2004;
Hundleby et al., 2007). Maruna (2001:7) argues that a person needs to undergo a
transformative change in their self-narrative and develop a ‘pro-social identity of themselves’
to desist from crime. In common with Maruna’s ‘redemption scripts’, Appleton’s (2010:215)
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study of re-settled discretionary lifers also emphasised the psychosocial processes or
narrative identity shifts required to support change. Whether IPP prisoners in open prison
similarly adopt reform narratives to desist from crime is considered in this study.
There is also limited research in relation to absconds from open prisons and that concerning
IPP prisoners, in particular. An analysis of the profile of 362 absconders in England and
Wales during 2008/2009 found abscond risk correlated with two or more previous custodial
sentences, needs relating to attitudes, a robbery offence and having an offending career of
seven years or more (McSweeney et al, 2011). Interviews with apprehended absconders
found varied motives for absconding. This was most commonly in reaction to bullying,
intimidation or threats from others or because of concerns about the prevalence of drugs in
open prison. In other cases, absconding was a response to a ‘crisis at home’, such as the death
or illness of a significant other. Absconds were also reported to be a consequence of the
difficulties adjusting to the transition from closed to open prison and grievances about aspects
of prison decision making. Others absconded having been caught with an illicit item, such as
a mobile phone, or were anxious about the repercussions of failing a drugs test. The process
of absconding was often described as impulsive. A further analysis of offenders over a two
year period up to May 2014 found a previous absconding incident was a predictor of future
abscond (Mews, A, 2014). This research has considered all sentence types whereas
interviews with absconders in this study are analysed in-depth to understand more about the
reasons why IPP prisoners abscond.
These four strands of literature – dangerousness, risk and Imprisonment for Public Protection;
pains of imprisonment; compliance and legitimacy; and open prisons, desistance and abscond
– provide a wealth of research and theory as a basis for this study. This study is exploratory
15
in nature and, as can be seen from the literature review, will address considerable gaps in
research relating to the experience, compliance and reason for abscond of IPP prisoners in an
open prison environment.
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Chapter Three: Methodology
In the light of the existing literature and current context, the study has two broad research
questions:

What is the experience in open prison conditions of prisoners sentenced
indeterminately to Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPPs)?
•
Can the experience explain why some IPPs abscond and others do not?
1. The Research Design
The key consideration when developing the research design is how best to answer the
research question. This is essentially an exploratory study and by seeking to explore, the
existence of a clear hypothesis has been rejected. The aim is to find out answers rather than to
test out whether a theory is correct or not. In this way the research is inductive with the data
coming first (Bachman and Schutt, 2001). Once the data has been collected and analysed, a
theory can be developed. Although a grounded theory approach (Glaser and Stauss, 1967) is
ideal, it would be a mistake to believe that a researcher can approach their research without
some theoretical construct whether it be explicit or implicit. As Bottoms (2000) states: ‘There
are no theory neutral facts’.
To research this topic either quantitative, qualitative or a combination of methods could have
been used (King & Wincup, 2007:53) and both types would have been capable of answering
the research questions to a certain extent. This research is exploratory into the experience in
17
open prison of IPP prisoners and why they may abscond. It is generally agreed that
exploratory research is best conducted through qualitative methods (Bachman and Schutt,
2001:16). So it is clear that a qualitative approach is the most appropriate way to explore the
research question. This allows the sensitivities to be handled with care, responses to be
probed and further information obtained. Having decided to conduct qualitative inductive
research, it is necessary to select the most appropriate research tool. This could be focus
groups, semi-structured interviews, life stories or participant observation. Semi-structured
interviews combining life story questions (Appleton, 2010; Maruna 2001) and some
Appreciative Inquiry were selected as the most appropriate research tool. Focus groups
(Wilkinson, 2004) are useful for highlighting areas for discussion but would fail to produce
the in-depth responses needed. However, two focus groups with ISPs were conducted to
decide the research question and inform the questionnaire design. Participant observation
(Mason, 1996) would be too time consuming and not appropriate to this research question.
Existing attempts at quantitative analysis of data of frequency of absconds at both national
and regional level are limited as they can describe ‘who’ absconds but cannot answer a key
research question of this study, which is to understand in-depth the reasons as to ‘why’ IPP
prisoners abscond (MoJ, 2013). A quantitative survey was rejected given the doubt that a
sufficiently high response rate would have been achievable given the sensitivity of the topic.
The value of the responses received would also be doubtful. However, quantitative data from
NOMS (2014) has been used to inform the research question and the framework for the
research.
A cross-sectional design (Robson, 2002:49) was selected as the most realistic given the short
time-scale whilst still appropriate to answering the research question. A longitudinal design
18
(Robson, 2002:50) might have provided the best way of understanding why IPP prisoners
abscond from prisons. However, the time constraints and the size of the sample required
would have been impractical given the limitations of this small study.
2. The Research Population
Consideration was given to researching IPP prisoners, lifers and determinately sentenced
prisoners in order to compare their experiences. However, the increased costs and time
needed made it unachievable for this study. The purpose of the study is not to make
comparisons with determinate prisoners or lifers but to explore why IPP prisoners abscond
and what is shaping this lack of compliance. As the focus is on the experience of IPP
prisoners, a sample in closed prisons who have absconded was selected for interview
alongside a sample of IPP prisoners in an open prison who have not absconded. I selected
one establishment to attempt to isolate what may be features of all IPPs and open prisons or
institutional factors related to the research site. The establishment selected was ‘typical’ of
open prisons with an operational capacity of approximately 500 offenders of whom eight per
cent were IPP prisoners. The rate of IPP absconds at 28.7 per 1000 prisoners from the
research site was comparable with the national average of 29.9 (NOMS, 2014). In contrast,
the data of IPP absconds over a three year period from 2011 to 2014 shows variability with a
rate per 1000 prisoners ranging from 7.1 to 82.7 in different prisons.
When deciding on the research design consideration was also given to interviewing IPPs who
have most recently absconded, but the national spread of this sample taken from many
different establishments would make access complicated. Matching with a cohort who had
not absconded would also be complex. There would also be the disadvantage of not being
19
able to focus on institutional factors. More recent absconders could also still be facing
criminal charges which might distort their response. The 13 IPP prisoners who had
absconded from one open prison over the past two years formed the focus of the research. An
equivalent number of IPPs who remained in the open prison were also invited for interview.
The 13 absconders were located at eight different closed establishments. Two absconders did
not wish to participate in the study so a total of 11 offenders who had absconded were
interviewed. However, one of the 12 IPPs interviewed at the open prison had previously
absconded so his views were also included. 23 IPPs were interviewed in total - 12 who had
previously absconded and 11 who had not.
The age of the participants ranged from 24 to 46 years with an average of 32.5 years (mean).
The age range was broadly similar for those who had absconded and those who had not. The
age at sentencing varied from 18 to 40 years and averaged 24 years which was also similar
between the two groups. The majority of those interviewed had been sentenced in 2005/6 (16
participants). The tariff length, that is the time to be served prior to consideration for release
by the Parole Board, ranged from eight months to nine years with an average of three and a
half years. The time that had been spent in custody on the IPP sentence ranged from three and
a half to nine and a half years and averaged seven years and eight months. The time spent in
custody ‘over tariff’, or beyond the tariff expiry date, ranged from one year to seven and a
half years. One IPP interviewed had been recalled to prison and another was one year under
tariff. Excluding these two cases, the average time spent in custody beyond their tariff expiry
date was almost a year and a half longer for those who had absconded. The sample who had
absconded were, on average, five and half years ‘over tariff’ compared with four years for
those offenders who had not absconded. Half of the offences that had resulted in the IPP
sentence were for violence against the person, including wounding with intent, grievous
20
bodily harm, and half were for robbery. Offences involving armed robbery were more
common amongst the sample who had absconded.
3. Research Tools
With semi-structured interviews selected, an interview schedule was designed (Appendix A).
The schedule needed to be structured enough to cover relevant topics but also sufficiently
flexible so as not to hinder the interview process (Lofland and Lofland, 1995). To be
comparable and to ensure consistency, interviews were loosely structured, yet participants
were able to follow whatever tangent they felt appropriate. The questions were worded as
simply as possible, and there were prompts to assist me during the interview process. The
interview checklist was piloted with two IPP offenders at the open prison where I work and
was subsequently modified to reduce its length as the pilot interviews took longer than one
hour. I considered an hour long interview to be a reasonable amount of time to ask of
participants and not too long for interest to be maintained. The life story techniques used by
Appleton (2010) and Maruna (2001), who followed a modified version of McAdams’ Life
Story Interview (1993), were drawn on in designing the interview schedule. To start the
interview, participants were asked to summarise their life story. Appleton (2010:59) found
this proved a useful opening strategy as participants quickly relaxed and slipped into a
‘confessional mode’. The use of the technique was similarly successful for this study. It also
provided a means of cross-checking information given during later stages of the interview.
Some ‘appreciative’ questions were also included in the interview schedule as part of the
search for understanding and explanation (Liebling et al. 1999). ‘Appreciative Inquiry’
21
supplements problem-oriented research methodology with a search for ‘affirming’ knowledge
and positive images. Liebling has found that this technique has a ‘distinct power and
relevance in the prison setting’. The appreciative questions may also make the interview a
more positive experience for the prisoner as they permit ‘emotional space’ and a ‘healthy
process of self-reflection’. The method could ‘open doors to data and interpretations that may
have remained firmly shut’ (Liebling et al, 1999). However, given the generally negative
experience of the IPP sentence amongst the participants of this study, I found that the
appreciative questions did not always fit well and at times interrupted the flow of the
interview. In hindsight, though, there may have been insufficient ‘appreciative’ questions
included in the interview schedule to be ensure the technique was effective.
I contacted the research participants in advance by letter explaining the purpose of the
research (Appendix B). This provided an opportunity to reflect on whether they wished to be
involved. Two absconders and two non-absconders declined to participate in the study at this
stage. When I attended to conduct the interview, I ensured that they fully understood the
purpose of the research before requesting signature of a consent form (Appendix C).
Permission to tape record interviews was also sought. The interviews took place in private in
an office on the residential unit or in an interview room in the Offender Management Unit.
The interviews lasted from between 45 minutes to one hour and 15 minutes and took
approximately one hour on average.
4. Data Analysis
Robson (2002) identifies four different approaches to qualitative analysis: quasi-statistical;
template; editing and immersion. The type of data analysis used in this study is the editing
22
approach. Following transcription of all the tape-recorded interviews, printed transcripts were
analysed for patterns and themes. Although consideration was given to a priori coding based
on the literature review, themes were developed from the data collected instead as I wanted to
be led as much as possible by the data itself.
As I could not approach this research without some pre-existing theoretical ideas, it was not
possible to use grounded theory (Glaser and Strauss, 1967). Instead, theory was developed by
a process of interaction with the data (Miles and Huberman, 1994). There are deficiencies
and biases as a human analyst (Robson, 2002:461). However, these were minimised through
a systematic approach (see Miles and Huberman, 2004:9). I used printed versions of
transcriptions to highlight themes and then grouped together themed quotes into separate
word documents. I then analysed the grouped quotes to identify sub themes. I also quantified
some characteristics and factors, including age, offence, length of sentence, tariff length,
length of time ‘over tariff’, family contact, and reasons for abscond.
5. Ethics and Other Considerations
It was essential to make my position clear both as researcher and as a prison governor.
Although disclosing my professional position could have limited the responses and
participation, it would be unethical not to do so. By making clear that I am interviewing in
the capacity of a researcher and as a student, I aimed to minimise potential issues, reduce the
power differential and gain trust by demonstrating honesty and integrity. Although there is
clearly potential conflict in my dual role, there is still value of ‘insider research’ by members
of organisations of their own organisations (Brannick and Coghlan, 2007). According to
Brannick and Coghlan, insider research is not only valid but also provides important
23
information which traditional approaches may not be able to uncover. Reiter (2014)
describes how prisons are a ‘black site’, structurally and bureaucratically closed off from
research – ‘invisible at worst and pixelated at best’. Given the complexity of gaining access
to prisons, my ‘insider’ position gave me the advantage of not having to overcome this
barrier. In conducting this research, I felt my ‘insider’ position was an advantage as we could
talk on an informed level during the interviews. With the exception of three of the interviews
in which I felt the participants were reticent and chose their words carefully as I might expect
they would in a Parole Board hearing, for example, the interviews were conducted in a
relaxed, frank and open manner. In fact, the participants appeared to welcome the opportunity
to communicate their views on issues that were clearly of such importance to them. However,
they may have seen the interview as an opportunity to highlight their apparent hardships to
myself as an ‘authority figure’ rather than as a researcher.
Prison research is fraught with ethical and emotional challenges (Reiter, 2014). It has to be
acknowledged that in-depth interviews with prisoners will be emotionally demanding.
However, both Crewe (2014) and Jewkes (2014) highlight how emotions illuminate
qualitative inquiry. Overshadowed by positivist approaches to penology, Jewkes (2014)
argues for greater emotional honesty in prison research otherwise criminology will be ‘blank
and arid’. Yet I feel it is the emotions of the participants that illuminate this qualitative
inquiry as opposed to mine. The interviews conducted were frequently intense and strong
views were expressed in relation to perceived injustice of the IPP sentence. I was concerned
regarding a potential miscarriage of justice when one respondent explained that he had been
given an IPP sentence for a street robbery despite no history of violent crime. However, a
barrister had recently agreed to take up his case so both the potential ethical and emotional
challenges for me were thereby resolved. Another respondent expressed a desire to ‘go to
24
sleep and not wake up’ so, without disclosing the exact contents of what was said, I asked the
prison’s safer custody manager to speak with the offender. A further participant told me that
he was confused about his sexuality and had nobody to talk to. With his consent, I asked the
prison’s Governor to facilitate appropriate support for him.
6. Generalisability, Reliability and Validity
The sample is from one prison and may not be representative of all IPPs. No sex offenders
were interviewed and all interviewees were male. This was a deliberate choice as there are
likely to be other issues to explore in relation to these other groups of offenders which would
warrant studies of their own. However, as the sample includes all IPPs who absconded from
one establishment over a two year period, the findings should be internally generalisable at
least (Bachman and Schutt, 2001). The findings could be generalisable to other
establishments but this is not guaranteed so external generalisations should be viewed with
caution. The generalisability is dependent on the representativeness of the sample. In this
study, the age and offence characteristics of the sample who absconded are comparable with
those characteristics for all IPPs who abscond from 2011 to 2014 (Table 2 & 3) so
generalisations of the findings can be made with reasonable confidence.
Age
All IPP absconds
Sample of IPP absconds
20 to 29
60%
50%
30 to 39
25%
25%
40 to 49
15%
25%
Table 2: Age profile of IPP absconders from April 2011 to March 2014 compared with sample
25
Index offence
National
Sample
Robbery
53.9%
50%
Violence
40.6%
50%
Sexual
0.6%
0
Other
4.9%
0
Table 3: Offence type of IPP absconders from April 2011 to March 2014 compared with sample
In order to be valid, there was a need to control variables that could skew the response. It
was important to ensure participants were comfortable in answering questions and to clarify
if they were misunderstood. Achieving validity and reliability is more difficult with flexible
designs (Robson, 2002). However, by tape-recording interviews and avoiding assumptions
when coding responses, it is possible to aim for higher levels of reliability and validity. It has
to be acknowledged that there was be an influence whatever efforts I took to reduce the
impact my role in the prison service plays on the response.
26
Chapter Four: Findings and Analysis
This chapter considers the findings of interviews with the offenders sentenced
indeterminately for public protection and identifies relevant themes. The impact of serving an
IPP sentence clearly framed the experience in open prison conditions of those interviewed
and will therefore be considered in-depth first. The sentence itself was experienced by all
respondents as ‘illegitimate’ leading to a more negative evaluation of the prison experience
overall. The pains from ‘moving goal posts’, ‘uncertainty’ ‘over punishment’, ‘loss of control
and identity’ and a ‘loss of hope’ prevailed. However, the power of an indeterminate sentence
as an ‘agent for change’ was acknowledged along with its role as a ‘life saver’ with
imprisonment preventing further violent crime from being perpetrated in some cases. Within
the context of the frustrations of the IPP sentence, the open prison was experienced as the
hardest part of the sentence with the ‘pressure and temptation' considered only
‘psychologically survivable’ by those of ‘strong mind’. Finally, the ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors
contributing to the decision to abscond are analysed, presenting a more complex picture than
previous research has found.
1. Legitimacy Deficit
I’m not really seeing that that is justice especially if you would have never have ended up
doing eight years behind the door for what your crime was in the first place. It doesn’t
make no sense, I’ve seen people just give up, suicidal thoughts people have, it’s crazy;
I’m sure the public want justice, that’s true; society wants to see people pay for their
crimes that’s true, that’s fair, that’s how it should be, but at the same time I don’t think
they want to see people tortured though. It’s been a nightmare. (William, non-absconder)
27
As identified in previous research (Addicott, 2012; Jacobson & Hough, 2010; Howard
League, 2007), there was a strong feeling expressed throughout the interviews that the IPP
sentence is unjust and unfair. Most respondents considered that they were undeserving of an
IPP sentence and that these had been ‘dished out’ too readily or ‘for fun’. However, unlike
previous research, there was an admission that, for a small group of more serious, violent
offenders, the IPP sentence was deserved due to their offending history. Mark (nonabsconder), who had three previous convictions for serious, violent offences, admitted that he
was ‘one of the few that can’t complain’ as the IPP sentence was ‘designed for someone like
me’. Wayne (absconder) thought he got what he deserved ‘not just for that crime but for other
crimes that I didn’t get caught for. I agree with it’.
Yet all respondents viewed the IPP sentence as ‘illegitimate’ primarily because of the
considerable time spent in custody beyond their parole eligibility date – a systematic problem
with the sentence previously identified by Jacobson and Hough (2010). With tariffs ranging
from eight months to nine years and averaging three and a half years, the time served by
interviewees in this sample was generally at least double the initial tariff and an average four
and a half years beyond. Mark (non-absconder), for example, said: ‘When I got two years
nine months tariff I didn’t think I’d be in nine years down the line’. The lack of
proportionality between the sentence and the crime committed, reflecting ‘new penology’s’
shift from ‘just deserts’ sentencing (Von Hirsch, 1999), was felt to be particularly unjust:
‘I’ve done nearly nine years now which is the equivalent of an 18 year sentence for a robbery
that if I’d have done it before the IPP I’d have got seven or eight years and done half of that’
(Dave, absconder). As the initial mandatory requirement of the IPP sentence ‘caught in its
net’ offences that would not normally attract an indeterminate sentence (Padfield et al.,
28
2012:975), the punishment was seen as unduly severe and not commensurate with that for
other types of offending that were viewed as more serious:
I never killed anyone, never raped anyone or touched any kids or anything of that sort of
nature and it hurts to see people of that sort of nature walk away after three years, two
years, 18 months. Then you see people like me who get silly little tariffs, thing’s been
abolished and we’re still sitting behind a door after eight or ten years’. (Wayne,
absconder).
The fact that the IPP sentence had now been ‘abolished’ as part of the Legal Aid, Sentencing
and Punishment of Offenders Act 2012, but no change applied retrospectively, heightened the
interviewees sense of injustice:
The sentence doesn’t exist. So if it’s illegal, what happens if I do something illegal? I’m
in here. So how come if the system does something illegal, nothing changes. That makes
it even worse for the people who have got them. You feel more persecuted. I’m still
serving and still under something that you've deemed inhumane. How the fuck does that
make me feel? (Nick, absconder)
As identified by Addicott (2012), the lack of information at the time of sentencing had been a
source of difficulty for most interviewees and appeared to be the foundation for their ongoing
lack of trust. Only four offenders said they had understood what an IPP sentence was and the
implications of the indeterminacy. Initially, most thought they would serve their tariff or half
of that. They describe how the realisation ‘hit’ them, in some cases, years later:
29
I had some money sent in. I got Miss to check. She opened up the screen and I saw 99
years. I said check again. Then she typed in my number again and 99 years came up. The
PO [Principal Officer] used his number and 99 years came up so they phoned the clerk’s
office who said “Yes. That’s IPP. 99 years.” That’s when it hit me. I felt like I got hit by
a bus when I saw 99 years. (Abukar, absconder)
In accordance with the findings of previous research that the IPP sentence lacks legitimacy
(Addicott, 2012), this more up-to-date study also found a strong sense of illegitimacy that
appears to be deepening as the time spent in custody beyond the parole eligibility date
extends and the perceived injustices increase. As previously identified by Liebling (2012),
negative evaluations of the prison experience are likely when the sentence itself is
experienced as illegitimate. Consequently, the IPP prisoners in this study described their
experience as an ‘absolute nightmare’, ‘mental torture’ and ‘inhumane’.
2. Agent of change
I’m not the person I was back then. It’s changed me. I think the IPP sentence is
disgusting but it’s changed me. That’s what it took. Frightened the life out of me. It
might have took this to wake me up. (Tim, absconder)
All respondents described how they had ‘changed’ and were determined to live a crime-free
future. Despite the deep sense of illegitimacy felt towards the IPP sentence, this study
identified that its indeterminate nature was, paradoxically, a powerful driver for ‘change’ in
criminal attitude and behaviour. Described as a ‘kick-up the backside’ and a ‘wake-up call’,
the impact of the IPP sentence had resulted in ‘change’ not experienced in previous
determinate sentences. Although objecting strongly to the IPP sentence, seven respondents
30
reflected that it had been ‘a blessing’ and ‘saved their life’ from substance misuse and
violence or from ‘a mandatory licence for murder’:
The way I was going, the people I was with at the time and the way my movements was,
I didn’t think it would be long before my life was taken away. I’ve been stabbed six
times, shot twice. It’s by the grace of God innit. Maybe for me it was a blessing in
disguise. I hate this sentence but I’m still alive. (Wayne, absconder)
A common pattern in the earlier years of their IPP sentence prior to ‘changing’ was to
‘behave as normal’ and ‘do prison like I used to do prison…get into trouble, do your basic,
go down the block. I didn’t care to manage myself at that point’ (Chris, absconder). Only
when the implications of the indeterminacy of the sentence were fully understood, commonly
after three or four years, did attitudes and behaviour start to change: ‘I didn’t really
understand the consequences at first… For the first three years I continued behaving as
normal. Getting drunk in prison, getting caught with phones’ (Jack, non-absconder). This
behaviour was described as ‘young men mentality’ and was a period in custody that was
enjoyed. However, the need to fulfil Parole Board requirements to be granted release ‘makes
you grow up and see the consequences’ in contrast with ‘a normal sentence’ which has a
release date so ‘you didn’t care’. The threat of recall when released on licence, which for
IPPs is for life unless successfully challenged after 10 years, was a particularly powerful
force for change in attitude to criminal behaviour:
I think it has made me change personally because you know you’ve got something like
that hanging over you…You can’t even have a parking ticket or a public order offence
because you will go back to jail for a very long time. So that hanging over someone is a
31
burden but at the same time it can be classed as a good thing as well.’ (Robert, nonabsconder)
In accordance with the ‘age-crime curve’, in which the rate of offending diminishes with
maturity (Farrington, 1986), ‘change’ was also regarded as part of ‘growing up’: ‘To offend
again would never come to my mind because what happened in the past that was childish. I
was young and childish’ (Solomon, non-absconder). The ‘change’ had often been through
their own volition and was not ‘just for parole. I did it as a man’ (Sean, absconder). There
was also a realisation over time that you can ‘never beat the system’.
As with Maruna’s (2001) and Appleton’s (2010) account of how offenders use personal
narratives to progressively distance themselves from their criminal career and transform to a
non-offending self of the present, the IPPs recounted how they had ‘changed for the better’.
Akubar (absconder) said: ‘I like myself now. I didn’t like myself then’. As with Maruna’s
(2001:9) ‘wounded healers’ who have a desire to ‘make good from bad’ and give something
back to society, six offenders described a wish to become a substance misuse or youth
worker. Similar to Appleton’s (2010:143) finding of ‘contaminated beginnings’, every IPP
interviewed had a tragic start in life that included bereavement, abuse, crime, deviance and
substance misuse from a young age. As Appleton’s study of lifers found, at some point all the
respondents had questioned their criminal activity and the direction of their lives. Turning
points and specific events triggering ‘change’ included a prison officer ‘showing an interest
when no one else had’, a younger sister crying during a visit, a brother’s death and contact
with a ‘victim’ during a restorative justice programme.
32
Although research demonstrates a moderate overall positive effect of offending behaviour
treatment programmes (Losel, 2011), there was a general cynicism expressed by this sample
regarding their effectiveness:
This is confidential but the programmes don’t work. They are a load of nonsense. I
changed because I wanted to change. I knew what to tell everyone so they think ‘oh
wow’ but at the end of the day I sat down in my pad [cell] thinking do I want to spend
my life in here. A lot of IPPs are serious criminals and doing CALM isn't going to
change a 53 year old man that’s killed people. He's thinking “do you idiots really think
that’s going to change me”. (Nick, absconder)
With the exception of the ‘12 step programme’ for substance misuse and ‘Victim Awareness’
courses which were viewed positively by respondents, the courses were seen as ‘ticking
boxes’. It was felt that IPPs ‘must be seen to be doing every course going’ in order to ‘get
out’. Without an individual’s will to ‘change’, courses were regarded as ineffective: ‘All
you learn to do is to become more educated and to think a certain way and to play the system
a bit better’ (Robert, non-absconder).
However, there was considerable frustration when the Parole Board failed to recognise
‘change’ and grant release from custody: ‘I thought I’ll use this sentence to my advantage and
get the positives out of it. Afterwards when I was not being seen as the person who’d
changed I kinda lost hope that I would ever be released’ (Rick, absconder). As raised by
Jacobson & Hough (2010), having the onus to ‘prove’ they are no longer a risk of serious
harm to the public is especially frustrating for IPP prisoners.
33
It is within this context of ‘change’, followed by disillusionment and frustration, that IPP
prisoners are experiencing open prison conditions. Although the indeterminate nature of the
IPP sentence may have had a beneficial impact at a certain stage, typically after three or four
years in custody, the sentence was now viewed as a ‘hindrance’: ‘I’ve made the changes
they’ve asked me to make but I can’t prove it cos you can’t see what’s inside my head. I can’t
prove it until you release me and let me get on with my life’ (Chris, absconder)
3. Uncertainty
The hardest thing about IPP is uncertainty. One thing I’ve struggled with is the
uncertainty situation. I don’t know when I’m coming home. That’s frustrating, that hurts,
it gets you annoyed and bitter. You get wound up by the system and gets to a point where
you don’t know what to make of the whole situation. I believe I should've been home a
long time ago. (Sam, absconder)
As highlighted by Crewe (2011), the ‘pains of uncertainty and indeterminacy’ conflate the
psychological dimensions of incarceration and make the experience ‘deeper’ and ‘tighter’ if
less ‘heavy’ than in the past. Similarly in this study, the uncertainty of the IPP sentence and
‘not knowing when you’re going home’ was the source of particular stress and anxiety
because there was ‘nothing to look forward to’ and ‘no end’:
This is a headfuck innit. Sorry for swearing but that’s the truth. It’s horrible. I don’t
know when I’m coming out. On a normal sentence if I’ve got 21 days left that means
I’ve got 21 days left. If I’ve got a parole in March it doesn’t mean it’s in March. It
probably means its September or October next year and then when I go up to the parole
board it’s not guaranteed that they’re going to say release me. But now 10 years down
34
the line sitting here, come on man, just give me a date. I’m not asking for nothing else.
(Wayne, absconder)
‘Not having a date’ was the focus of anxiety as it created the feeling that ‘my life’s never my
own’. This contrasted with their experience of finite determinate sentences when ‘you know
your fate’ and can ‘plan you future’. This ’liminal state’, likened by Jewkes (2004) to a
terminal illness, was described as ‘mental torture’:
It has its serious effects. It’s daunting, very daunting. 99 years, 99 years is in the back of
your head…You’re never at ease. The clock constantly ticks but the hand is jammed
somewhere and isn’t moving. (Abukar, absconder)
Research has identified the negative impact of imprisonment on the ‘forgotten victims’
(Codd, 1998) of prisoners’ children and families, but this study found that the ‘uncertainty’ of
indeterminacy, in particular, caused families to ‘suffer’: ‘It affects your family big time. You
know I’ve had issues with my family, like my mum’s tried to top herself; dad’s had a stroke,
you know it’s not just me involved’ (William, non-absconder). Amin (non-absconder)
described the difficulty of not knowing what to tell his family when ‘you have no target’ and
the negative impact that this had on relationships:
They’re doing their own sentence as well because they don’t know when you’re coming
out; they can’t make any plans or anything so it affected more than me. The people from
outside they don’t know nothing about IPP .They think “oh when are you coming out”
and I keep having to try and explain. (Delroy, non-absconder)
35
Research shows that close family and relationships have a key role in desistance from crime
(Sampson & Laub, 1993, Losel et al., 2012), and family contact for those interviewed was
clearly vital and a strong motivating factor to progress towards release: ‘I have a loving
family. I can’t lose more time with them’ (Jack, non-absconder). A supportive family stopped
them from ‘going crazy’ and was a protective factor against abscond: ‘I’ve got family. I want
to do it properly’ (Jake, non-absconder).
The impact of disruption to the life course when in custody is also well documented
(Sampson & Laub, 1993), and for this sample, the time missed with children growing up was
a source of great regret: ‘My kids know me as across the table. I’ve ruined four of my kids
lives by not being a dad to them, going to parents evening. It’s them that’s suffered’ (Tim,
absconder). To be with their children was also a key motivation to gain release: ‘My son
needs me but he’s not too old where his path is already determined so as long as I can get out
to shape his future that’s all I care about’ (Chris, absconder). However, seven respondents
had little contact with any family members: ‘Don’t get visits from no-one. Don’t want visits.
I try doing this on my own’ (Alfie, absconder). They claimed this lonely situation, with lack
of family contact, was their choice: ‘No visits. I think it’s better that way’ (Sean, absconder).
So the stress and anxiety caused by ‘uncertainty’ was clearly taking a psychological toll on
the respondents as well as having a negative impact on families and relationships. This
‘uncertainty’, therefore, was potentially damaging a key factor in desistance and the
motivation for release.
36
4. Moving goal posts
They said to me there’s your sentence plan. You reduce your risk and you can go home.
So ok I’ll do what you want and more to reduce my risk, but I still can’t go home. The
goal posts move again. Come on, what are you supposed to do with that? It’s madness,
madness. (William, non-absconder)
Compounding the general sense of injustice in relation to the IPP sentence, was a frustration
at the way in which ‘goal posts’ kept ‘moving’ to present further obstacles to release: ‘I said
to my mum I’ve jumped through so many hoops I feel like a performing dolphin’ (Stefan,
absconder). Likewise Addicott (2012), identified how the need to ‘jump through hoops’ to
try and gain release was especially frustrating for IPP prisoners. In this study, the experience
of open prisons, in particular, was identified as one of ‘false hopes’: ‘They give you all these
options and then they knock you down. It’s for frauds’ (Alfie, absconder). He described how
failing to progress despite fulfilling what was understood to be required was like ‘chucking
you in a pool and giving you one armband when you need two. It’s like giving you half a
chance and taking that away from you all the time’. Similarly Wayne (absconder)
experienced ‘false hopes’ when ‘they keep dangling carrots’ and then ‘whipping them away’.
As Crewe (2011) found, the unpredictable nature of penal power creates significant
insecurities and can often defy logic. In this way, William (non-absconder) claimed he had
been ‘held back’ by a requirement to complete a course called ‘Going Straight for Robbers’
that had been disbanded: ‘This stayed on my sentence plan for years and the course had
actually been disbanded. It wasn’t even around but it stayed on my sentence plan and it was
hindering me, even though it didn’t exist no more’. Chris (absconder) described his
37
frustration at a ‘full psychological assessment’ being requested years into his sentence which
‘started a whole load of nonsense’, extending his time in custody disproportionately through
having to wait two months for a four hour psychology interview and then another six months
to see the Parole Board again. Mark (non-absconder) recounted having to wait three years
‘for an assessment for an assessment’ for a ‘dangerous and severe personality disorder’
treatment programme which was subsequently found to be unsuitable. Solomon (nonabsconder) recounted how his Parole Board hearing had been deferred for over a year when
the prison he was at closed and a new parole dossier had to be produced.
The lengthy delays to access courses identified in previous research (Jacobson & Hough,
2010; CJII, 2010) no longer seemed to be such an issue in this more recent study. However,
‘moving goal posts’ on the part of the Parole Board was a key source of current frustration.
Frequent delays to hearings were experienced, for example, with ‘parole January, then
March, now April, now October’ and there was a sense of being ‘fed lies’ when new
requirements were stipulated following a hearing. As Dave (absconder) said: ‘You’re told to
do a course, or two courses and we’ll support your release. Once them two courses are done
you’re told something different; so you’re fed lies’. The Parole Board ‘knock backs’, or
refusal to grant release or progression to a lower category prison, were described as ‘terrible’
because of the disproportionate additional time subsequently spent in custody:
Eighteen month knock backs for an eight week course I think are ridiculous. I was
supposed to come and do this Resolve course here which is on paper an eight week
course but I got an 18 month knock back which I think is really hard. I don’t think that’s
fair really. (Dave, absconder)
38
Although, as in Appleton’s (2010) study of lifers, several respondents spoke positively of
their relationship with their Probation Officer, there was also frustration when Offender
Managers they hardly knew attended Parole Board hearings and did not recommend release
supposedly because of a lack of information: ‘Some probation officers can come up from
nowhere and come up with some mad thing. That’s very frustrating and annoying. That’s
tough’ (Stefan, absconder).
This experience of continually ‘moving goal posts’ appeared to be compounding the pain and
frustration felt towards the IPP sentence and further undermining the sense of legitimacy and
trust within the prison environment.
5. Over-punishment
Punishment is served up to a certain point and then it starts to get a bit monotonous and
then makes you feel that you are being over-punished and then it feels like injustice. You
start to feel resentment. (Sam, absconder)
The sense of illegitimacy, exasperation at the ‘moving goal posts’ and the feeling that ‘I’ve
served my time now’ was affecting attitudes towards compliance:
You keep me in any longer in my head I start to think why should I keep behaving
myself. I relax to the rules because you’re taking more of my life and you’re upsetting
me now so if I do something deviant I don’t feel no guilt. For example, if I went out on a
home leave and took some drugs I would feel less guilty now. I’ve nearly doubled my
tariff. Now I should start living my life. As long as I don’t cause anyone any harm. (Sam,
absconder)
39
Applying Crewe’s (2009: 221) typology of forms of compliance, most of the sample fit with
‘players’ who display ‘feigned compliance’ and ‘retreatists’ whose engagement had been lost
and were in a ‘dangerous state of anomie and alienation’. The impact of perceived ‘overpunishment’ was clearly a potential regression in behaviour:
There’s only so much punishment you can give a person before that person starts to
resent that punishment and regress. They are either going to run or cause trouble in the
system. We’re human beings not computers. There’s only so much a human being can
take. How much can you beat a person before that person retaliates? (Delroy, nonabsconder)
Offenders who had absconded and faced the greatest uncertainty were more likely to be on
the brink of ‘regressing’:
Not sure I can do this any longer. I’ve been holding on quite a long time, I don’t want to
say it cos I don’t want to jinx myself, but I don’t know how much more I can take before
I say enough’s enough. I think that will mean I will end up staying in jail for the rest of
my life. I’d hate to go down that route but I don’t know how much more I can take.
(Rick, absconder)
Applying Beetham’s (1991:20) theory in relation to compliance, it is evident that the
‘legitimacy deficit’ from the experience of the IPP sentence is causing a crisis of
‘deligitimation’ and the withdrawal of consent. Maintaining the motivation to comply was
becoming a struggle, especially for those who had absconded: ‘I’m battling so it doesn't have
40
a negative impact. I’m now passed the point of making a change, I’m now passed the point of
using new skills to stop old skills’ (Chris, absconder).
The positive affects experienced from the IPP sentence as an ‘agent of change’ are at risk of
unravelling, particularly for the cohort of absconders. The sense of ‘over-punishment’
identified in this study, which is being experienced by IPP prisoners as they remain in
custody beyond their original tariff expiry date without a clear route-map for release, presents
a threat to future compliance and regression in attitudes and behaviour.
6. Loss of identity and control
People in my situation can’t afford to make a mistake. Everything I say, every move that
I make is being documented. I make a mistake that sets me back two years, that’s people
playing with my life. (Wayne, absconder)
The well documented psychological techniques of discipline (Foucault, 1977; Crewe, 2011;
Crewe, 2014) and the loss of identity in ‘total institutions’ (Goffman, 1968) were clearly
evident in this study. Participants described having ‘no control’ of their own life and of ‘life
not being your own’. As Sam (absconder) said: ‘I’ve got control of my own actions but I
don’t feel I’ve got control of my life’. They spoke frequently of ‘the system’, which was
perceived as unjust and against them, and of being ‘stuck in a system’ that they could not get
out of:
41
IPPs they’re feared up, running scared in the prison system. Where they’re shipping
people out [from open to closed prison] every day, they know it’s only a matter of time
before they come to get them and they might not even have to be doing anything wrong.
You’ve gotta keep under the radar and taking every bit of fucking shit thrown at you.
(Tim, absconder)
As identified in Crewe’s (2011) ‘pains of psychological assessment’, there was also a sense
of not being able to ‘be yourself’ and how honesty could back-fire especially when dealing
with psychologists:
You can never say the right thing, you want to but there’s always something that will
come up that will work against you. I opened up quite a bit to her [psychologist] and
told her how I was feeling and it all just went against me and that was another kick in
the teeth that made me thing sod it next time I won’t say nothing. I won’t even answer
their questions cos it gets to that bit where you think just do what you’re doing I just
don’t care anymore. All you can do is keep me in prison which you’re doing anyway so
do what you’re doing. (Dave, absconder)
A similar dilemma of ‘wanting to say the right thing but you don’t want to lie’ was faced at
Parole Board hearings. The perception of the ‘power of the pen’ (Crewe, 2010) and the ‘soft
power’ (Crewe, 2014) wielded by uniformed staff contributed to a lack of trust. The
participants felt vulnerable to the negative ‘influence’ and ‘manipulation’ that they perceived
prison officers could have through submitting security intelligence reports (SIRs) or ‘putting
something on Nomis [prison service computerised records] that might not be true’:
42
If an officer don’t like me, which has happened many times, they can go on the system,
they can put in SIRs which are not true, which are completely unfounded, there’s never
no evidence to back them up, and that can hold you back. Because it seems like
whatever they put in is automatically believed, even when it is not proven, it doesn’t
come off your file. It stays on you file and it builds up and builds up and builds. So
when it comes to us, they can do what they like; they can go on the system and
manipulate your sentence and it can manipulate your life and be spiteful. (William, nonabsconder)
As Liebling (2004) has observed, prisons are low-trust environments. From the experience of
these IPP prisoners, open conditions appeared to be a time of heightened distrust and was
described as ‘snakey’. There was a perception that, as IPP sentenced offenders, they were
vulnerable to especially poor treatment because they could not react like a ‘normal prisoner’
for the ‘fear’ it would ‘set you back two years’:
Some of the officers know you’re doing an IPP and can’t shout and scream like a normal
prisoner. They can insult you. You have to bite your tongue and certain officers take
advantage of that and certain prisoners take advantage cos your hands are tied. Where
they can take a liberty with you they know they can’t with someone serving a straight
sentence cos you've got everything to lose. All that resentment builds up. (Delroy, nonabsconder)
Reminiscent of Foucault’s (1977) description of ‘docile bodies’, Jack (non-absconder)
described pressure to act submissively: ‘Sometimes in the prison system if you're intelligent
and articulate they don’t like it as they just want you to walk around with your head down
and do as you're told’. He described being unable to be ‘true to yourself. You have to become
43
a robot and be a certain way until you get out’. The attitude of prison officers in the open
prison environment was experienced as especially negative: ‘They wouldn’t talk to you in
closed prison like that cos they’d punch you in the mouth. I might be in for serious stuff but
I’m still human’ (Nick, absconder).
In addition, mixing with ‘normal prisoners’ was considered risky and described as a ‘slippery
slope’: ‘You have to tick a thousand boxes. They don’t have to tick one box. You need your
head screwed on. You can get kicked out for security information and not even doing it. You
are who your friends are’ (Mark, non-absconder). They felt the need to shield themselves
from ‘people that slow me down’ and keep their distance from ‘fake D Cats with normal
sentences whose attitude stinks’. As Stefan said: ‘I can’t have no fights, no violence, no
arguments. Them type of things are going to push me back. You have to take public
humiliation and take it on the chin’. So ‘surrounding yourself with the right people’ in open
prison was a key strategy for protection against the evident ‘loss of identity and control’.
7. Loss of hope
Hope has left my head. Hoping for things has gone. I feel like I’m wounded but can’t see
the wound. I’ve bled out. I think I’m unbreakable now. Nothing phases me. Mentally
I’ve shut down. I just think the worse. I met this guy who was supposed to do seven
years and he’s done 27. I think I’ll be like him. (Abukar, absconder)
The culmination of the frustration at the ‘moving goal posts’, perceived ‘over punishment’,
the ‘uncertainty’ of no release date, the ‘loss of identity and control’ and the feeling of
44
‘illegitimacy’ toward the IPP sentence, was a ‘loss of hope’, especially for those who had
absconded. Liebling and Arnold’s (2012) research in a maximum security prison also found
an environment with ‘little hope’ which was deepening the tone and re-shaping the practices
of long-term imprisonment, including a prominent role played by faith identities and fears of
radicalisation. Although there was evidence of increasing ‘resistance’ in this sample of lower
category offenders, the general response to ‘loss of hope’ was more a sense of resignation
and despair.
Likening the IPP sentence to being ‘on remand’ (Addicott, 2012), which is a time of
increased self-harm, six offenders in the sample recounted experiencing suicidal feelings:
‘I’ve contemplated suicide on this sentence. This sentence is very daunting. If prison life is
the best I’ve got to look forward to, what’s the point of living? This is shit. This is no life for
nobody’ (Chris, absconder). They also recounted incidents of other IPPs self-harming or
committing suicide: ‘One guy he told me “they’re knocking me back, they’re knocking me
back”. The next day, next door...oh man’ (Amin, non-absconder).There was empathy for
those they knew who had self-harmed because of the ‘stress’ of the sentence:
I’ve seen people break down and guys hang themselves. All kinds of madness that I’ve
heard of like trying to take their own lives quickly just to get it over and done with. I can
understand the feeling because they just think well you know what, if I’m not here then I
can’t feel the stress of this IPP. (William, non-absconder)
Those who had absconded, in particular, described feeling ‘defeated and broken’, ‘destroyed’
and seeing ‘no light at the end of the tunnel’:
45
Prison that’s my future. What happens today is what happens tomorrow and in ten and
fifteen years. Let’s not beat about the bush. This is my future. One day I’ll go to sleep
and I won’t wake up and I’m alright with that…I just want this to end. (Tim, absconder)
They described feeling ‘abandoned’ in a situation that was ‘never ending’ and said they had
reached a point of giving up and ‘no longer cared’. This sense of hopelessness was causing
disruptive behaviour amongst younger offenders:
It’s taken away my hope. Depressed sometimes, angry a lot and I want to kick off all the
time. Then you kick off and they keep knocking back your paroles. Drives me crazy. I
don’t care to be honest. They can release me when they want to release me. I’ve had
enough of this shit. (Alfie, absconder)
However, older offenders seemed more ‘resigned’ to a future of incarceration and spoke of
‘retiring’. They admitted to becoming ‘institutionalised’, no longer being ‘hungry for
freedom anymore’ and of being ‘content’ in prison:
I’m not happy to be in prison but I’m content. This is easy. This is so so easy and you
know what they can't dangle that carrot no more as I don’t want D Cat that bad. I don’t
want freedom bad enough anymore. Right now I’m as happy as I have been in years and
that’s in prison. They just can't have me over no more, they can’t tell me do this do that,
cos it don’t make much difference what I do . I got no hopes. I’m not hoping for nothing.
I don’t think what’s out there is that precious anymore. (Tim, absconder)
There was a self-realisation of becoming ‘institutionalised’ the longer they remained in
custody. They spoke of being ‘groomed’ into a future of prison: ‘My cell in here I call my
46
bedroom. That’s the sad thing about this IPP that they're not realising is the longer you spend
in prison the harder it will be to come out’ (Abukar, absconder). In fact, remaining in prison
was seen as preferable to release in the case of three older offenders:
To tell the truth I’m kind of scared. in one way I don’t even want to be released and I
know it sounds really strange but I’ve been in and out of institutions for a long time and
I’m quite comfortable. I know that sounds really mad, but I get to go out once a month
at the moment [on temporary release]; I’ve been doing open university, I work and I do
the gym and, apart from a relationship with a girlfriend, it’s just like a normal life;. It’s
alright going out there for home leave but I personally look forward to coming back for
the rest. (Delroy, absconder)
There was also sense of having ‘no future’ due to the indeterminacy of the sentence and the
perceived inevitability of recall to prison if they ever were to be released. For those with a
longer and more serious offending history, there was ‘no escape’ from past crimes that were
seen to limit their chances of a life outside of prison:
I’m not planning on going out to commit crime. I’m not planning on going out to smoke
drugs but we all have a past in jail and I’m bound to meet someone I’ve had a fight with
or an argument with. It’s impossible not to. What choice have I got? It’s like jail,
you’ve got no escape. (Delroy, non-absconder)
The sense of hopelessness identified in this sample, especially amongst older offenders with a
longer and more serious offending history, is causing a withdrawal and disengagement which
threatens the compliance necessary in an open prison to progress and gain release.
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8. Pressure and Temptation
This is the hardest bit of jail I’ve ever done. It’s harder than any B Cat or C Cat. (Mark,
non-absconder)
As in Shammas’s (2014) study of an open prison in Norway, deprivations do exist within
‘soft’ incarceration, which he conceptualised as ‘pains of freedom’. The open prison ‘pains’
Shammas identified, ‘confusion, ‘anxiety and boundlessness’, ‘ambiguity’, ‘relative
deprivation’ and ‘individual responsibility’, were also felt by this sample. However, this
study found that the IPP prisoners in open conditions in the UK experienced additional ‘penal
pains’ from the ‘pressures’ related to the sentence and the ‘temptations’ to transgress.
Despite the apparent benefits, the open prison was experienced as the ‘hardest part of the
sentence’ as it was ‘pressurised’ and ‘very demanding for an IPP’. ‘B Cat’ closed prison was
perceived as ‘light work’ in comparison: ‘This is the main test. You’ll get people say it’s
easier because there’s more freedom, but it’s not’ (Robert, non-absconder).
The pains of ‘anxiety and boundlessness’ and of ‘individual responsibility’ (Shammas, 2014)
arising from the transition from closed to open prison were experienced as ‘quite
intimidating’ because of having ‘too much responsibility’ in the open environment. Brendan
(non-absconder) explained: ‘I didn’t like it. I was used to having everything done for me
which is what happens in closed conditions. You put an app [application] in and it gets done
for you. Come here and it’s just open spaces. If you want anything you’ve got to get it. That
was quite intimidating’. Alfie (absconder) experienced having to do ‘everything yourself’ as
‘weird, for example: ‘I had to go to kit change just to pick up a bog roll. Normally I just say
48
boss “give me a bog roll”’. Upon arrival in the open prison, respondents described how
seeing the prison gates stay open ‘messed my head up a bit’. As in Cohen & Taylor’s
(1972:44) account of long-term imprisonment with deprivations from being in closed
conditions causing sensory slowdown, the noise of trains appeared amplified and cars
appeared to be going ‘so fast’: ‘I’ve had a slow life for a long time’ (Naz, non-absconder).
Tim (absconder) explained how he ‘couldn’t even eat with a fork. I couldn’t have metal in
my mouth as I’d had plastic in my mouth all those years now’.
The ‘ambiguity’, ‘relative deprivation’ and ‘bittersweet privilege’ from being in open
conditions but unable to leave (Shammas, 2014), was also a source of anxiety for this sample.
The need for constraint without physical barriers, which Neumann (2012:148) describes as
‘imprisoning the soul’, made Naz (non-absconder) feel ‘kind of paranoid’ because ‘I’m
thinking am I going to get into trouble’. With fewer prison officers in an open prison
environment, it was considered ‘easier to slip’ because ‘no-one’s watching you all the time’.
The additional freedoms, such as not being locked in a cell at night, were seen as ‘giving you
that little bit more rope sort of thing and hopefully you don’t hang yourself with it’ (Brendan,
non-absconder). There was ‘more pressure’ felt to abide by the rules and avoid ‘getting a
write up or being returned to a closed prison’.
The reconstitution of ‘penal power’, labelled as ‘soft power’, and the large amount of
discretionary power that officers now hold is well-documented (Crewe, 2014). However, this
study found the discretionary powers of staff in an open prison to be even greater, with
influence on decision-making extending to returning prisoners to closed conditions and to
controlling temporary release. As a consequence, the everyday use - or perceived misuse - of
staff authority was felt acutely, creating a sense of ‘living in fear’. As described by Shammas
49
(2014), power in an open prison is ‘soft, but tight with hard edges instead of heavy’. In this
study, the increased discretionary power was experienced as ‘sharp’ as well as having ‘hard
edges’. The participants described continuous ‘worry’ and insecurity due to the perceived risk
of being returned to a closed prison for spurious reasons. The arbitrariness in decisionmaking was described as ‘one big massive fear’. As Solomon (non-absconder) said: ‘Coming
to D Cat is high risk because you can be gone tomorrow based upon nothing’.
Furthermore, the ‘temptations’ presented in an open environment caused additional pressure
and pain. The ‘stress’ of being in an open prison but unable to leave on temporary release
was experienced as especially challenging: ‘It’s like giving you a chocolate cake and telling
you not to eat it’ (Tim, absconder). Abukar (absconder) described this temptation as like
‘having a carrot in front of you. They let you taste a little bit and they take it away. You just
want to get out and eat your carrot so to speak’. To watch people going home at the weekend
was ‘hard’, ‘frustrating’ and ‘heart breaking’: ‘When you want freedom and haven’t got it.
It’s so close and so far but yet you keep jumping through hoops’ (Stefan, absconder). The
‘lay down’ period, prior to being allowed temporary release, was considered ‘too long and
drawn out’. Stefan (absconder) described the six months in open before he could go out as
‘harder than six years done anywhere else’. There was also more peer pressure and
temptation from a greater availability of ‘spice’ (or New Psychoactive Substances) and
alcohol: ‘There’s a lot of goading in open. “Come on we’re going to have a little drink”
whereas in closed you’re not going to get that’ (Dave, absconder).
Longer serving offenders, in particular, said they preferred the ‘more structured’ and
‘enclosed’ environment of a closed prison:
50
‘I feel safer in closed but maybe that’s me just being institutionalised, but I feel
better off in a closed jail than in an open. It’s more structured. You sort of know
when your meals are coming, when you’re being banged up, what you’re doing.’
(Dave, absconder).
Brendan (non-absconder) missed being ‘locked behind a door because you can switch off
then as your mind’s going all the time’. Respondents reported being ‘more bored’ in open
prison than in closed as the ‘days are longer. There’s no bang up’. Instead of being able to
‘kick the door shut and go play on your computer or watch TV’, in open prison ‘your door’s
open and you’ve got all the grounds to walk around. When you get out there’s nothing to do’
(Tony, absconder). Although the open prison environment felt safer in one respect as there
were ‘less fights cos you don’t want to get kicked out’, it was perceived as less safe in other
ways due to there being fewer officers and security cameras: ‘You could walk in and kill
someone and get away with it. Not secure in any shape or form’ (Nick, absconder). There
was also ‘more to worry about’ in open prison and a ‘lot of stress’ with having to make
preparations for release: ‘People think it’s really easy but there’s a lot of stress. In B cat
there’s nothing to worry about and then all of a sudden you’ve got to start getting housing
sorted, getting things sorted for release’ (Jake, non-absconder). They also found it
‘financially harder’ in open prison because of having to meet the costs of temporary release
from low prison wages. Temporary release, in itself, could also be ‘quite pressuring. You
can’t relax’ because of thinking ‘you’re gonna be late, gonna be late’ (Amin, non-absconder).
Despite the ‘pressure’ and ‘temptation’, the experience in open prison, particularly for those
who had not absconded, was overall a positive one. Jack (non-absconder) said: ‘I feel happier
in open as I’m closer to home’. Brendan (non-absconder) described how being released
51
directly from a closed prison on previous sentences had ‘spun his head’ and he welcomed the
opportunity to ‘do it a bit more gradual. I think I’ll flourish’. Mark (non-absconder)
recounted how he had re-offended within three months of release directly from closed prison
after a previous determinate sentence: ‘When I finished my seven [year sentence], the door
was opened and I was kicked out. It was easier for me to do what I knew than it was to try
and change. I never felt I had any help out there’. Furthermore, the opportunities for day
release and work were valued as an opportunity to ‘set yourself up more for the real world’.
9. Psychological Survival
If you are on an IPP you really have to be strong in mind and sort of work your way
through it yourself as no one else can get you through this sentence. There’s only
yourself and I think you’ve really got to get strong in mind and have a plan and work
through the plan bit by bit. You can’t really skip from here to another place as you’ve
really got to keep your head together. It’s very easy just to lose and sod it. It’s a hard
sentence, it’s a tough sentence. Nobody knows how it’s going to end. You always have
this little bit of hope that your next parole is gonna be the one and when it’s not things go
a little bit downhill waiting for the next one. (Dave, absconder)
Being able to ‘survive’ an IPP sentence was seen as dependent on whether you were ‘strong
in mind’: ‘There’s constant setbacks and tests and things challenging you. It’s whether you
can overcome them or not’ (Naz, non-absconder). As in Cohen and Taylor’s (1972) study of
long-term imprisonment, which is compared with extreme situations, psychological survival
was regarded as paramount. The respondents spoke of IPP prisoners ‘turning to heroin
because of the pressures’ and those who had ‘just given up’.
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Despite the psychological struggle against the challenges of their sentence, there was still a
sense of optimism and resilience, especially among the younger respondents, in respect of the
future if released. The future was described by Rick (absconder) as ‘two roads – one written
with hope and one written with no hope’ which depended on the Parole Board’s decision on
whether to grant release. Nick (absconder) said: ‘If I was released now I’d have something
good to go back to and I think I’d do rather well, but it’s getting a parole panel to take that
risk’. With the exception of three older offenders who appeared resigned to a future in prison,
all of the respondents were confident of their job prospects. Abukar (absconder) said: ‘I will
have no problem getting a job. I have qualifications and social skills’.
10. Abscond
I locked myself in a hotel room for three days with my girlfriend and went and had a
roast dinner [with her family] and got a mate to drive me to the police station. What did I
do that was so wrong? The whole reason that I escaped is because I had three glasses of
brandy. But if I had three glasses of brandy at home, there wouldn’t be no officer to
catch me and I would have been fine. (Nick, absconder)
The decision to abscond was frequently an impulsive act which involved little prior planning
or discussion with anyone beforehand. Most offenders left on foot and continued on public
transport to get away. They sought refuge with family and friends. This ‘spur of the moment’
decision to flee with little consideration of the potential consequences corroborates existing
research findings (McSweeney et al., 2011). Similarly, the time spent unlawfully at large
was short, typically less than ten days (n=8). As in McSweeney et al’s (2011) study, half of
the sample was apprehended by the police and half surrendered themselves voluntarily. The
pressure on family while they remained ‘on the run’ was the main reason for handing
53
themselves in. As in Rick’s case ‘the police kicking the door in at 4am and hounding the
family’ was felt to be ‘unfair on relatives’.
There had also been little prior consideration of the difficulties of living a clandestine life
without the necessary financial means, especially when further offending was not seen as an
option: ‘I wasn't really willing to commit any more crime’ (Nick). In only one case were
serious crimes (a spate of armed robberies) perpetrated whilst unlawfully at large, and one
other respondent admitted to less serious offending (burglary). The respondents described the
experience of having to ‘watch over your shoulder’ as stressful and unenjoyable: ‘It wasn't a
nice feeling. It was one of the most horriblest feelings that you can’t be free when your
outside if you're wanted by the police’ (Sam). Most of the sample ‘within the space of a few
hours’ deeply regretted their decision to abscond:
I was sat there [in a friend’s flat] just sitting watching the telly thinking what the fuck
have I done. What have I done. I’ve completely fucked everything up. There wasn't one
second of that experience that I enjoyed. It was worse than being in prison here now. I
weren't free. I couldn't go nowhere. (Tim, absconder)
However, Wayne and Chris who spent time rebuilding relationships with children ‘enjoyed
every minute’, and Abukar appreciated the opportunity to conduct himself as a ‘normal
citizen’.
The respondents’ perception of the seriousness of absconding and the risk they posed while
unlawfully at large clearly conflicted with the perception of the police, the public and the
media’s view of their ‘dangerousness’:
54
The way the police went on, they had me in loads of different newspapers, about finding
a dangerous criminal. They was going on like I was on a murder spree. Ok it’s not right,
but I was out with my friends. I went clubbing a couple of times. I’d been in prison a
long time. I didn’t commit any crime. They said “six foot dangerous man, do not
approach”. I was in Hammersmith train station with my oyster card. I said hold on I’m
helping carry their things down the steps. Crazy! (Stefan, absconder)
In fact, several respondents claimed that having remained crime free when unlawfully at
large was ‘proof’ that they were no longer a danger to the public: ‘I wish there was a camera
with me so the Parole Board could see how I lived day to day for those 23 days. I swear
crime didn't enter my head’ (Abukar, absconder). Given the difficulty IPP prisoners have in
demonstrating reduced dangerousness (Jacobson & Hough, 2010:44), this perverse view that
the criminal act of abscond ‘proves’ a reduction in risk is perhaps understandable.
Chris (absconder) considered his subsequent imprisonment as a disproportionate response to
the abscond incident: ‘The only offence I committed when I was out was non-payment of a
train ticket and I got another two years’. The punishment for absconding was less than one
year in most cases (n=9), but ranged from 14 days to 10 years for the absconder who
committed further serious offences. However, the sentence for abscond was generally seen as
inconsequential in comparison with the indefinite time still to be served (anticipated to be in
excess of two years) before the Parole Board might consider release.
In accordance with Mews (2014) finding that previous abscond is a predictor of future
abscond, three absconders in this sample had absconded on two occasions during the current
sentence. Five respondents had also previously been returned to closed conditions for
breaching licence conditions or because their risk was ‘heightened’. The older offenders in
55
the sample, who had a longer known offending career typically involving armed robbery,
were more likely to have a history of repeated abscond and ‘failure’ in open conditions. The
majority of absconds happened in the early period of their time in open prison and prior to
eligibility for temporary release. Only two offenders had progressed to working out in the
community before absconding.
The predominant reasons given for absconding were the ‘pull factor’ of a ‘crisis at home’
(n=5) and ‘push factors’ of incidents involving drugs and alcohol (n=3), bullying and
intimidation from other offenders (n = 3), grievance about prison or Parole Board decisionmaking (n=2) and being caught with an illicit item or a licence breach (n=2). However,
unlike previous abscond research which attributed single factors to the reason for abscond
(McSweeney et al., 2011), this study found a much more complex picture with a combination
of both ‘push and pull’ factors contributing to the decision to abscond. There were also
secondary factors involved, including ‘rude staff’ and the dislike of room sharing after
becoming accustomed to a cell on their own whilst in closed prison. The reasons for abscond
are now considered in more detail:
A. Pull factors
a. Crisis at Home
“I was desperate to see my dad. They said he was dying. I wanted to say goodbye. (Sean,
absconder)
The refusal to be escorted to a funeral or to be allowed to visit a dying relative triggered
abscond in three cases where eligibility for temporary release had not yet been reached. The
56
request to be escorted to the funeral had been declined by the prison as the deceased relatives
were not a parent, child or sibling. Although not a ‘direct’ relative, Abukar’s niece was
equally important to him: ‘She was the only thing holding me to continue my sentence’.
In the absence of closer family, the rejection by the prison prompted an emotive reaction:
‘Obviously I wanted to be at my Nan’s funeral…when they say that [I can’t attend] I see
red. I though fuck it if you're going to be like that and I cut my nose off to spite my face.
The most important thing I ever wanted to do and they snaked me on it.’ (Alfie,
absconder)
A ‘crisis in the family’, involving marital strain and concerns about children, contributed to
abscond in three cases. Rick explained: ‘My wife wasn't very responsive. It was the strain of
relationship. I wasn't being received as I wanted to be so I just walked out’. Chris wanted to
check on his children’s welfare after hearing news of social services involvement following
violence by their mother’s new partner.
Those who absconded generally had less supportive families than those who had not
absconded. Only six of those who had absconded received regular visits compared with ten of
those interviewed who had not absconded. All three who absconded because they could not
attend a funeral or see a dying relative lacked supportive family and received no visits. A
supportive family is clearly a protective factor against abscond. Jack spoke of having ‘too
much to lose’: ‘I’m thinking of my family; not everyone’s got that. It all depends what
you’ve got on the outside I suppose; it all depends where your mind set is, if your loyalty is
to your family or to your friends on the street’ (Jack, non-absconder)
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B. Push factors
a. Substance Misuse
I knew as soon as I touched down [in open prison] there’s going to be madness. There’s
drugs, there’s phones, there’s temptations for everything. I don't need that in my life. It
come at me quite heavy. As soon as I walk off the bus someone was waiting for me.
(Wayne, absconder).
The ‘temptations of drugs and alcohol, especially New Psychoactive Substances (NPS)
commonly known as ‘spice’, were the ‘downfall’ of those who had entrenched substance
misuse issues. In fact, success in an open prison was perceived by Nick as dependent on not
having a problem with drugs or drink: ‘Some IPPs don't take drugs so they fit perfectly with
what’s going on and the benefits of the prison. Those who take drugs slip straight back into
it’. However, attributing underlying substance misuse issues to an increased likelihood of
abscond would appear to be an over-simplification. All of those interviewed, with the
exception of one non-absconder, had either drink or drug taking linked to their offending
behaviour. For those still tackling addiction issues, providing the right support during the
transition from a closed to an open prison, which was a time of much vulnerability, was
clearly critical:
They [substance misuse service provider] said put in an application. I thought I need to
see you now. I couldn’t handle the fact that there was loads of drugs and I relapsed. I
probably went there a bit too early. Staying off drugs is not so simple. (Nick, absconder).
58
b. Bullying and Intimidation
I absconded to get away from the situation. Everything was building up and I run. If
there’s any chance there’s going to be an incident I can’t be around it. I’ve got to get
myself away from the situation cos I’m a lifer. If I try and defend myself and something
happens then I’m never getting out. (Tim, absconder)
Three absconders described ‘removing’ themselves from ‘situations’ following initimidation
and threats by other offenders. As indeterminately sentenced prisoners, avoiding involvement
in a violent incident outweighed the perceived seriousness and consequences from
absconding. Abukar, under pressure to traffic drugs, fled prison at night to avoid the threat of
being stabbed and stopped a car to hand himself in. Tim absconded to avoid conflict over
‘spice’ that had been concealed by other offenders in his room.
Other absconders described having to get away from pressure to be a ‘look out’ when mobile
phones were being used illicitly and of not ‘fitting in’ with groups of prisoners, such as
‘Birmingham boys, ‘black kids’ and ‘lots of gangs’. Tim believed his key mistake in open
prison was to ‘let people in, I should have kept myself to myself’. Staying isolated from other
offenders, particularly those serving a determinate sentence, or only mixing with those who
‘won’t slow you down’ was seen as key to remaining within an open prison environment.
c. Trafficking and breach
It was a split second, impulsive decision. Going back to prison wasn't an option so I felt
my only option was to run. I panicked and said I’m not going back to prison. I’ve done
nothing wrong. I’d just done six years which is a very long time. (Stefan, absconder)
59
Two absconds were impulsive reactions to being caught in the prison reception for illegal
activities that were likely to result in return to a closed prison. The circumstances of both
cases, involving younger offenders who had progressed to working in the community, were
not typical of the rest of the sample’s reasons for abscond. Stefan panicked because he
believed the fact that he had stayed at his girlfriend’s house rather than his mother’s, as
stipulated on his licence, had been discovered. Sam was caught trafficking drugs into the
prison which he had agreed to do because of the financial pressure of running the car that he
needed to travel to his work placement: ‘You work so hard to get to a Cat D. You make a
stupid decision to bring items in that aren't authorised for financial reasons’.
d. Parole Board and Prison Decisions
‘I had no trust in the prison at all. Lots of it is to do with trust and you have got to be
given a little bit of give and take and I wasn't ever given that give so I never sort of
trusted that I was going to get anything so I went. (Dave, absconder)
.
A Parole Board ‘knock back’ triggered the decision to abscond in one case and discontent
following an adjudication decision in another. Rick described the refusal to grant release as a
‘bitter blow. I didn't deal with the disappointment too well. I needed that break and feeling
that you'd still got control over your life’. When Dave was late back from his first temporary
release and received a ‘28 day lay down’, during which time he was allowed no further day
release, he decided that he had ‘had enough of being mucked about’ and left.
In fact, frustration and a lack of trust in ‘the system’ appeared to be the underlying reason for
abscond in the majority of instances: ‘I was pissed off with the system, frustrated with it all. I
60
didn’t want no D Cat. I thought it was within my right to be released’ (Wayne, absconder).
The sense of injustice in relation to the IPP sentence was compounded by the inability to
access temporary release immediately upon arrival in open conditions which appeared to be
the initial expectation: ‘I was seeing everyone else going home every weekend and I felt I’d
never get to that position that they was in so I thought I’d finish off in a Cat B’ (Dave,
absconder). There was a general unhappiness at what was perceived as ‘collective
punishment’ by new rules restricting temporary release following the ‘high profile failures’
that had attracted considerable political and media attention. It was felt that the restrictions
were ‘causing a lot of atmosphere, a lot of stress, a lot of bitterness towards the system and
the carrot being dangled all the time. These things being implemented are not helping.
They’re making more people run’ (Jack, non-absconder).
Rick, a repeat absconder, explained how he had lacked the motivation and ‘energy’ to
comply: ‘D cat is quite demanding for IPP prisoners. You feel the strain - the way you
conduct yourself and have to meet your targets. I didn't have the energy for that’. The
pressure of the IPP sentence and the frustration at ‘not getting what you’re meant to get’
made respondents feel they were ‘backed into a corner’. This caused the ‘mind to snap’ and
consequently abscond. The ‘knock backs’ and refusal to grant temporary release were
‘putting a lot more pressure on people’ who ‘can’t take the pressure no more’:
Not everyone is as strong as the next person; not everyone can keep taking these knock
backs. Some of these lifers and IPPs have been in for a very long time, and when you’re
in for a long time you can go either way; you can either go with the system or go the
other way. (Robert, non-absconder)
61
A combination of the perceived arbitrariness of decision-making and an individual not being
‘psychologically strong enough’ to survive the ‘constant knocks backs’ were seen as the key
reasons driving an IPP prisoner to abscond. ‘How many times can you keep kicking someone
until they say enough?’ asked Sam. Respondents considered that ‘IPPs need more faith in the
system’ and that there should be ‘more consistency in applying rules’ along with fewer
‘moving goal posts’.
e. Other Factors
I was there no more than three hours. It took me two hours to realise I wasn't going to
stay there and one hour debating what I was going to do. I’m quite particular. It can
trigger a lot of anger. I’m single cell status. They said “don’t do that here”. I was told
that the last person that asked was sent back to a Cat C. So I thought either I go and see
my kids and go back to a Cat C or go straight back to a Cat C but either way I’m going
back to a Cat C. (Chris, absconder)
Having to share a room after being accustomed to a cell on their own whilst in closed prison
was a contributory factor in the decision to abscond in four cases. Another abscond was
triggered by suppressed issues relating to sexuality and an emerging relationship. The misuse
of staff authority and the attitude of prison officers was also considered a trigger for abscond.
As identified in Shammas’s (2014) ‘pains of freedom’, difficulty managing the transition
from closed conditions was also considered to be a factor:
I think most people abscond because they don’t like the change or maybe if they’ve been
in closed conditions for a long time they might not feel comfortable with the security,
with the freedom and doing what they want. Some people can cope with it, because you
62
are quite free here, walking round, and some people it spins their head a little bit too
much. I think, yes, you’re never going to stop it other than putting big electric fences
around the place, if they’re going to go, they’re going to go. (Brendan, non-absconder)
Similarly, prisoners who had become ‘institutionalised’ and ‘do not want to get out of prison’
were considered to be likely to abscond when ‘cushy’ private prisons were viewed as
preferable:
In retrospect, some realised they ‘weren’t ready for it’ or ‘couldn’t handle D Cat’. Dave
considered himself ‘not an open kind of D Cat person’ as he preferred ‘closed and the
structure’. Alfie admitted that he could not manage in open conditions and had absconded
‘the second they said no’ whereas in a closed prison he would have had ‘to deal with it’.
Akubar, who had repeatedly ‘failed’ in open prison, did not consider himself suitable for this
environment: ‘I don’t really need an open. They keep forcing open on me. I don’t want open.
I say if you want me to do another five or six years in prison then just give me a sentence that
I can complete and then go home’.
63
Chapter Five: Discussion and Conclusions
In this concluding chapter, the findings of this study are reviewed in relation to the research
questions. Recommendations are then made based on the results of this research.
•
What is the experience in open prison conditions of prisoners sentenced
indeterminately to Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPPs)?
The initial aim of this study was to understand how IPP sentenced prisoners experience open
prison conditions. However, the experience of the IPP sentence, itself, became the focus of
much of the interviews and required understanding as it clearly framed the open prison
experience. The sense of ‘illegitimacy’ with regards to the IPP sentence appeared to be
deepening with time as the period in custody beyond the tariff expiry date extends – by an
average of four and a half years for this sample. The feeling of injustice was also increasing
as the IPP sentence had been ‘abolished’ but no change applied retrospectively. As a
consequence of this ‘legitimacy deficit’, the evaluation of the prison experience was largely
negative and interpreted in distrustful terms, being described, for example, as a ‘massive
fear’.
Paradoxically, though, there was an acknowledgement that the indeterminate nature of the
sentence had been a powerful ‘agent of change’, despite its illegitimacy. There was also an
admission that the sentence had been a ‘life saver’ for some respondents, preventing further
violent crimes from being perpetrated. A small group of more serious, violent offenders even
agreed that the IPP sentence was deserved in their case. Yet positive aspects from the
sentence appeared to be unravelling as respondents encountered difficulty ‘proving’ a
reduction in risk in order to secure release. It is within this context of a ‘change’ in attitudes
64
to criminal behaviour, typically after three of four years into the sentence, followed by
frustration and disillusionment that the IPPs were experiencing open prison.
This study identified specific ‘penal pains’ felt by IPP prisoners, including ‘uncertainty’,
which was taking its psychological toll not just on the participants, but also their families and
thereby potentially damaging a key supportive factor in desistance and motivation to gain
release. The ‘moving goal posts’ set by the Parole Board, and also the open prison
authorities with regards to temporary release, appeared to be compounding the pain and
frustration and further undermining legitimacy and trust. The perceived ‘over-punishment’,
due to the lack of proportionality to the crime committed along with the absence of a clear
route-map for release particularly for absconders, was causing resentment, some resistance
and a risk of regression. There was also evidence of resistance as a consequence of a ‘loss of
identity and control’ and the ‘loss of hope’, but there was more a sense of resignation,
withdrawal and despair. The increased discretionary power of staff in an open prison, with
authority to decide on temporary release and a return to closed conditions, was perceived as
arbitrary and experienced as ‘sharp’. The additional ‘pains of freedom’ experienced by IPPs
in an open prison in the UK included ‘pressure’ and ‘temptation’, with increased restrictions
on access to temporary release and the greater availability of drugs and alcohol experienced
as especially challenging. Experienced as the hardest part of the sentence, the ‘psychological
survival’ of an IPP prisoner in an open prison was considered only possible for those of
‘strong mind’. A strategy of social isolation or ‘surrounding yourself with the right people’
was seen as the best way to remain able to access the important resettlement benefits of an
open prison.
65
Can the experience explain why some IPPs abscond and others do not?
The second aim of this study was to understand whether the experience of IPPs in an open
prison could explain why some absconded and others do not. However, the picture is
complex and not attributable to single factors, although clearly linked to the experience of the
IPP sentence and the sense of illegitimacy. Abscond was typically a ‘spur of the moment
decision’ to flee with little consideration of the consequences. The sample’s perception of the
seriousness of the act of abscond and their ‘dangerousness’ conflicted with the perception of
the media, the public and the police. The perverse view held by some absconders, that the
criminal act of abscond when no further crimes had been committed had, in fact, proved a
reduction in risk, was perhaps understandable given the difficulty encountered in
demonstrating that they are no longer a danger.
This study identified both ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors contributing to the decision to abscond.
The ‘pull’ factors involved a ‘crisis at home’, such as marital strain, a need to see children
and desire to attend the funeral of a family member or to see a dying relative following
refusal by the prison authorities to provide an escort. The ‘push’ factors included bullying
and intimidation from other offenders, substance misuse, being caught breaching prison rules,
and grievances in relation to parole board and prison decision-making. Other factors,
including having to share a room, the attitude of staff, difficulty managing the transition from
a closed prison, were also seen as contributing to the decision to abscond. Yet frustration and
a lack of trust, as a consequence of the IPP sentence and the experience in open conditions,
were the underlying reasons for abscond in the majority of instances. The ‘penal pains’ from
the IPP sentence that have been identified, along with the additional ‘pains of freedom’ felt in
an open prison, provide an explanation for why IPP prisoners are more likely to abscond.
66
So why do some IPP prisoners abscond whilst others make good progress in open conditions?
According to those interviewed, success for an IPP in an open prison largely depends on
being ‘strong in mind’, avoiding substance misuse and being careful which other offenders
you mix with. In this sample, older prisoners with a longer offending history often involving
armed robbery, were more likely to abscond and ‘fail’ following a build-up of a lack of trust
and a ‘loss of hope’. The IPP prisoners who absconded generally had less supportive families
and were less likely to receive visits. Those with entrenched substance misuse issues, who
struggled with the transition to an open environment, were also more likely to abscond. In
addition, despite making good progress to working in the community, two younger offenders
absconded on impulse after being discovered in breach of prison rules. In general, though, the
younger offenders in this sample, with a shorter less serious, offending history, were mostly
benefiting from the resettlement opportunities in open prison and were at less risk of abscond.
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Recommendations
This study identified a deepening sense of illegitimacy, frustration and pain felt by IPP
prisoners which is contributing to their higher rate of abscond. There is an urgent need to
review whether the release test for IPP prisoners should be changed to place the burden of
proof on the state to demonstrate ‘dangerousness’ and consideration given as to how this
release process might be accelerated. Whether an open prison environment is the most
suitable ‘testing’ ground for an IPP prisoner prior to the Parole Board’s consideration for
release should also be considered closely when, for example, a secure drug rehabilitation
centre might be a more appropriate alternative. The newly established ‘progression unit’,
designed for indeterminately sentenced prisoners who cannot return to open conditions
following a previous abscond or failure to return from temporary release, is a positive step
towards providing another route towards release. Several of the respondents suggested that an
open prison be reserved solely for indeterminately sentenced prisoners, which is worthy of
consideration. For an open prison, though, there is clearly a need for more considered use of
staff discretionary powers and to provide a more supportive environment. In this way, the
following suggestions are made to improve open prison practice in order to reduce IPP
absconds:

Intensive support targeting the early period in open conditions should be provided to
IPP prisoners, especially those who are older, with a more serious offending history,
who may be at increased risk of abscond.
68

Substance misuse services should provide comprehensive support to IPP prisoners
with underlying addiction issues, particularly during the transition from closed to
open prison which is a time of heightened vulnerability.

Services to support family integration, such as family conferencing, should be
provided to IPP prisoners. The significance of extended family members should not
be underestimated when considering approval to attend funerals, especially when
there is a lack of contact with direct family.

IPP prisoners should be better informed prior to arrival as to what to expect from an
open prison. The expectations in relation to temporary release and the initial ‘lay
down’ period should be clearly set in advance.

Every effort should be made to reduce the arbitrariness of decision-making, or the
perception of this, and ensure a consistent application of rules in relation to temporary
release.
69
Future research
This small study could be expanded upon to deepen understanding of IPP prisoners, the
experience in open conditions and reasons for abscond. A longitudinal study involving this
sample would be valuable in seeing how the problematic cohort of IPP prisoners can be
supported to progress. It would also be useful to compare the reasons for abscond by lifers
and determinately sentenced offenders to further identify why IPP prisoners are more likely
to abscond. A study is needed to compare the experience and outcomes for IPP prisoners in
an open prison with IPPs in a ‘progression unit’, which is designed for those who cannot
return to an open prison due to previous abscond or failure to return from temporary release.
Future research would also clearly benefit from using larger samples and a mixed methods
approach that includes analysis of documentary evidence, such as OASys, relating to
offending history and risks.
70
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GLOSSARY
Abscond: The classification used by the Ministry of Justice for an absconder as any prisoner
who absents themselves from ‘open’ prison custody “without lawful authority and without
overcoming physical security restraints such as that provided by fence, locks, bolts and bars,
a secure vehicle, handcuffs or direct supervision of staff”.
Category A, B, C, D (Cat A, B, C, D): Prisons are categorised by security level with
category A being the highest level and D the lowest. Offenders are categorised in a similar
way based on the security risk they pose and allocated to an establishment of the appropriate
category.
Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP): An indeterminate sentence for public protection
was imposed on adults who have committed a specified serious violent or sexual offence and
who are deemed to pose a significant risk of serious harm.
Lifers: Life sentenced prisoners are sentenced indeterminately to imprisonment and must
serve a minimum term (tariff) before consideration for release by the Parole Board. They
remain on licence for life and can be recalled to custody.
Ministry of Justice: The government department responsible for crime and justice.
National Offender Management Service (NOMS): The single agency responsible for both
prisons and probation.
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New Psychoactive Substances: These synthetic drugs are also known as ‘legal highs’ or
‘spice’. They are unauthorized in prison but available for sale in High Street shops. They can
cause extreme reactions when smoked or ingested.
Offending Behaviour Programmes (OPB): This term is used to describe courses designed
to address a particular offending need based on a risk assessment. These courses are put on an
offender’s sentence plan for completion.
Offender Manager (OM): Is a probation officer who works in the community. An offender
manager is appointed as soon as an offender is sentenced. They are responsible for
formulating an assessment and a sentence plan.
Offender Supervisor (OS): Is a member of probation or prison officer working within the
prison. An offender supervisor is appointed to act as a link between the prison setting and the
offender manager in the community.
Open prison: This is a minimum security prison for Category D (low risk) offenders which
typically has no fence to restrict movement. It’s key purpose is for re-integration and
resettlement of offenders back into the community.
Parole Board: This is the independent body which is ultimately responsible for deciding
when an indeterminate sentenced prisoner is suitable for release.
78
Recall: When an offender is on licence following release from custody they are set
conditions. If they breach their licence conditions, their licence can be revoked and they can
be recalled to custody.
Security Intelligence Reports (SIRs): These are restricted reports containing security
information which are submitted confidentially to a prison’s security department
Sentence Plan: When an offender first enters custody they receive an OASys assessment
which decides what Offending Behaviour Courses are suitable. These courses make up the
sentence plan.
Tariff: This is the minimum term set of an indeterminate sentence, set by the judge, which
must be served before the Parole Board can consider release.
Temporary Release (ROTL): This is when an offender is released from prison on
temporary licence usually for a resettlement purpose for a day. The offender must abide by
the conditions of the licence and return at the stipulated time.
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APPENDIX A
Interview Schedule

Introduce myself and explain aims of the study (incorporating ethical guidelines ie:
emphasise student status and explain of sort of information that will have to be escalated
and confidentiality breached eg: self harm


Read consent form and request signature if they wish to continue

Clarify how long it should take ie: approx 1 hour but as long as necessary
Explain that tape recording, what will happen to the data, how stored, how anonymised,
how used, they can ask questions, stop at any time or have a break
Introductory questions
 Imagine you had 10 minutes to summarise your life story, what would you say?
o Age?
o Where are you from?
o How long in prison?
o Family links?
What does a good day look like for you?
IPP sentence
 How did it feel when you received an IPP sentence?
o Did you understand what it meant?
o How long did you think you would serve?

How has being given an IPP sentence affected you personally?
o What impact has it had on your life?
o Have there been any silver linings/unexpected good to come from it?
Previous custodial experience
o Have you been in prison before?
o What sentences did you serve?
o Was the experience different to this sentence?
o Easier/more difficult?
Open prison experience
o How did you feel when you arrived in open conditions
o How was the first 24 hours
o The first month
o After that?
o Did you feel supported?
o What were the good things about being in open?
o How is open prison different to closed conditions?
o More/less responsibility?
o More/less freedom?
o More/less boredom?
o More/less drugs?
o More/less problems with debt?
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o
o
o
o
More/less safe?
More/less problems with other offenders?
More/less contact with family?
What’s good about it?
o
What does a “good” prison officer do? Can you think of where you’ve felt well treated by staff?
Any differences to closed?
o In what ways have staff made a difference to your experiences of being in an open prison?
What makes an open prison good?
Abscond
o Have you ever absconded or felt tempted to?
o Why?
o What happened?
o Regrets?
o Impacts?
o Why do you think offenders abscond from open prisons?
o Why IPPs in particular?
o Drugs?
o Debt
o Problems with other prisoners?
o Family issues?
o Frustrations?
o Why do you think some prisoners abscond and others don’t?
o Why some IPPs and not others?
o What has stopped you from absconding/would have stopped you?
o Do you think anything can be done to reduce absconds?
o For IPPs in particular?
o
Did you/have you been released on temporary licence?
 How was it?
 What for?
 What was the best thing about temporary release?
 How did the first time feel?
 Did you have an escorted visit first?
 Were you ever late back or fail to return? What happened?
Compliance
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o
Have you found it easy to stay on the right side of the rules in open prison compared with closed?
o Mobile, drugs, hooch, fighting?
o Compared with previous sentences?
o More or less as sentence progressed?
o
o
o
Why do you think people break the rules?
Do you think some people break the rules to help them cope?
What about you?
o In the same way as previous sentence?
o More or less during the course of this sentence?
o Just when you’re being watched?
Personal Development
o
o
o
o
o
What does the future look like for you?
What do you hope for?
What will you do when you’re released?
o Job, home, family
Do you think your experiences in an open prison will help/are helping you move forward ?
What’s good about being in an open prison?
Other issues
o
o
o
What is your experience of the parole boards?
What could be done to make open prisons better for IPPs?
Is there anything else that I’ve missed?
THANK YOU!
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APPENDIX B
PARTICIPANT INFORMATION SHEET
Dear Mr
,
My name is Sara Pennington and I work as a prison governor. I am also studying for a Masters
degree at the Institute of Criminology, University of Cambridge. As part of my degree I am
completing a dissertation. My topic is titled:
The experience in open prison conditions and absconds by prisoners sentenced indeterminately to
imprisonment for public protection (IPP)
For the purposes of this study I am doing my research at HMP Ford. I wish to interview those with an
IPP sentence to discuss your experience in an open prison. I also wish to interview those with an IPP
sentence who have absconded from an open prison in the past. I will be doing this study as a
student, not as a prison governor, and what I am told will remain confidential and all participants will
remain anonymous.
The purpose of this study is simply to find out what the experience is of IPPs in open prisons and
how this might explain why some people abscond and others do not. I think that my study will help
the Prison Service, and other researchers, understand more about what it is like to be in your
position
What will participation involve?
Participation will involve one interview lasting up to an hour. The interviews I conduct will be relaxed
and informal. Your participation is completely voluntary. If you do not want to take part, you do not
have to, and this will not disadvantage you in any way.
Are there any benefits in taking part?
I cannot pay you for taking part in the study, but if you agree to take part and are interviewed when
you would normally be working or in education, you will not lose any pay. Taking part in the study
will not affect your privilege level or any decision about your parole or release.
Will what I say be kept confidential?
The information you share in the interview will normally be kept completely confidential. However,
I will be obliged to pass on to a member of prison staff any information regarding:




A breach of prison security
Any further offences you admit to that you have not yet been convicted for
Any breach of prison rules that occurs during the interview
Anything you say that implies a threat to yourself or to others
In all other circumstances, everything you say will remain confidential. The information you provide
will be stored securely, for a 12 month period and then destroyed. The only people who will have
access to your interview are myself and the person who turns the recording of your interview into a
typed file.
Will my contribution remain anonymous?
If you agree to me using quotes from the interviews, this will be done in such a way that you cannot
be identified. I will give you a different name and will change any details about your life which would
‘give away’ who you are.
How do I agree to take part in the study?
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If you agree to take part, you will be asked to complete a consent form, confirming that you
understand what the study involves and have had a chance to discuss any questions with me. You
will also be asked to state whether you are happy for the interview to be recorded.
What if I want to withdraw from the study?
You are free to stop an interview or refuse to take part in any further interviews at any stage during
the research process, without having to explain why you want to stop. You can also insist that the
content of your interviews so far is excluded from the study, without having to explain why. You may
make this decision at any point up until 30th September 2014, when I will begin writing the research
findings. If you make this decision, I will destroy your interview recording and any associated
material. Making this decision will not be held against you or disadvantage you in any way.
Where can I go for support should participation in the research cause me anxiety or distress?
The interview shouldn’t cause you to feel anxious or distressed. But if, once you have finished the
interview, you feel that some of the things that you have talked about have made you to feel
anxious or distressed, there are a number of ways that you can access support:
 You can speak to a member of staff or ask me to contact a member of staff who you would
like to talk to.

You can contact a peer support worker, such as a Listener, or I will contact on your behalf
another prisoner in your establishment to let them know that you would like their support.

You can contact the Samaritans, whose number will be printed on posters on your wing.
Thank you for your time in reading this information. If you have any further questions at any
stage of the research, please do not hesitate to ask me.
Sara Pennington
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APPENDIX C
CONSENT FORM
Project title:
Researchers:
An exploratory study of the experience in open prison conditions and absconds by
prisoners sentenced indeterminately to imprisonment for public protection (IPP)
Sara Pennington, Institute of Criminology, University of Cambridge,
Please tick the boxes if you agree with the following three statements.
YES
1. I have read and understood the Participant Information Sheet for the
study (or have had it read out to me and have understood it), and have
had chance to ask questions.
2. I understand that my participation is voluntary, that I do not have to
answer any of the researcher’s questions if I do not wish to, and that I
can withdraw at any time, without giving reasons, until 30th September
2014.
3. I agree to take part in the study, which means being interviewed by the
researcher.
Please answer YES or NO to the following two statements by ticking the appropriate box.
YES
4. I agree to our interviews being recorded.
5. I agree to let the researcher use quotes from our interviews and
conversations, as long as this is done in such a way that I cannot
be identified.
Name of participant:
Date:
Signature:
Name of researcher:
Date:
Signature:
85
NO
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