Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more.
I spent a day at Castle Huntly near Dundee last week, Scotland's only open prison. There are no perimeter walls or locked gates. Around 180 men live there, many nearing the end of long sentences after years in closed conditions.
They don't arrive simply because enough time has passed. Progression follows detailed risk assessments, looking at behaviour, addiction, supervision history and everything else that helps establish whether someone is ready for a lower level of security. Only then does the door open a little.
It's an old prison – the earliest part dates from 1452, while some of the accommodation blocks feel like student halls from the 1970s. Yet the place is treasured because it provides something the rest of the prison system often struggles to create: a bridge back into ordinary life.
READ MORE: 'Build more prisons' is a snappy slogan that won't make Scotland safer. Here's what will
Work is a big part of that. So is home leave. People are meticulously and carefully assessed, addresses are vetted, as are the people they might associate with. Staff get to know the men in their custody, watch for changes and manage the risks that come with more freedom.
For the governor and deputy governor, I am sure there are sleepless nights. They have to trust their processes, trust their team and be confident they know the people they are responsible for. This isn't leniency. It's the most credible way we have of testing whether someone is ready to return to the community before the prison gate opens for good.
READ MORE: Why Scotland's justice system must be alive to a criminal's sudden moment of clarity about what they've done
Every time someone goes missing from Castle Huntly, the story writes itself: 'Prisoner vanishes from open jail.' What rarely gets written is the boring truth.
Over the past year, Castle Huntly recorded more than 21,000 days of community access. Just 15 led to a licence being revoked and only two people failed to return. Addiction is the biggest warning sign. Drug testing and vigilant staff mean the problem is frequently spotted before the drama becomes a crisis.
READ MORE: Should low-risk prisoners help tackle wildfires in Scotland?
Norway and Denmark make far greater use of open prisons and have more of a culture of 'normalisation' – shaping life inside to resemble life outside. People prepare meals and take more responsibility for daily life. It creates less of a cliff edge at the end of a sentence.
Compare that with someone who's spent years in a cell, he might be lucky and have support, otherwise he is handed a bag of belongings, a bus ticket and a discharge grant. With possibly no practice using a bank card or smartphone, no recent work experience and nowhere stable to live, we have engineered the conditions most likely to drive someone back to what they know.
READ MORE: Child's machete wound is warning to Scotland about allowing culture of violence to take hold
We spend enormous political energy arguing how long someone should be locked up, and almost none asking what happens before the door opens for good. Planning for release should begin on entry to prison. It may take years, but most people will leave eventually. Public safety across Scotland ultimately depends on whether they are ready.
Castle Huntly will make headlines again when someone doesn't come back. It should also make headlines for those who hold down a job, rebuild relationships and walk out with somewhere to live and something to lose by going back. That's not the story that sells. But it is the one that matters.
Karyn McCluskey is chief executive of Community Justice Scotland
(0)Comments