Out on the patch

The Honest Politicians Guide to Prisons and Probation is an absorbing read, larded with many surprisingly candid interviews from most of the government ministers and senior civil servants responsible for implementing these systemic changes.

One reference set in mind a memorable train of events on a particular working day as a probation officer. It was a comment from the former head of the Prison and Probation Service, Phil Wheatley,  who opined, "probation was a world previously unbothered by ‘politicians and the centre’, and had been protected by their secret weapon, the ‘very good lobbyist’ the late Harry Fletcher, the assistant general secretary of the probation union Napo."

I was returning from an abortive case conference (that is to say the conference had been rearranged without my being notified!) when I received a call from Harry (who I had known professionally as a member of Napo's national campaigning committee).

Somewhat breathlessly, as he was preparing for a radio interview, he asked for contact details of a probation colleague involved in a case that was in the national news due to its notoriety. I duly obliged and walked towards the nearest bus stop en route to the probation office.

At that moment, I recognised a home address as that of Meadow (not her real name) who was then under supervision for multiple drug-related offences. Hesitant to cold call, my decision was pre-empted when she poked her head out of a window. "Oh , Mr Guilfoyle,  I wasn't expecting to see you here!".

"Hello Meadow, can I come in?".

With some evident reluctance, the door unbolted and opened, and I entered a darkened room with curtains drawn and the pungent odour of hard drug-taking in the air.

I found a seat and awaited Meadow's return to the room. After some telltale sounds of the removal of drug paraphernalia, Meadow returned, distractedly preoccupied with looking at her mobile phone. I sensed that she was expecting a dealer to arrive at any moment.

"When is our next appointment?", she asked with shaky apprehension. I reminded her that her assessment for her residential drug rehabilitation was the following day. "I will be there... Can we finish now?".

As I left, I noticed a shadowy presence flit past me and the door slammed shut.

Feeling uncomfortable that I had not taken a more assertive approach, I opted to walk back to the probation office. As I approached a familiar row of shops and cafes, a voice rang out, "Mike, will you join us?". A little startled, I looked around and noticed a couple sitting contentedly at a pavement cafe and recognised them immediately.

The female partner of the man whose supervision had recently expired, chatted animatedly about how the couple were planning a trip abroad and extended a appreciative offer of a tasty pastry (a pastel de nata custard tart no less) as a 'thank you' for helping to support her partner through some challenging and darker moments (including detention in a mental health facility).

After a pleasant al fresco interlude, I set off once more for the probation office. On my arrival, an urgent call to ring Harry Fletcher was relayed. Matters had moved on in the space of a few hours. Ministerial-level murmurings about the case meant that the tenure of the chief officer of probation was now under urgent review.

Harry was offering some familiar advise to those directly affected and commented ominously that the Minister wanted a 'scalp'. Shortly afterwards, a forced resignation followed. The fall-out from the subseqent investigation of organisational 'supervisory failures' (one aspect of which was unsustainably high workload of the 'inexperienced' probation colleague at the centre of the case) reverberated on the morale of front-line practitioners.

My own attention was on ensuring that Meadow complied with the expectation outlined by the Crown Court that an assessment would be undertaken. I alerted the partnership drug worker to my home visit and my doubts about her motivation to attend.

Meadow did not attend her appointment, nor indeed her further appointments at the probation office. But before a warrant was issued, news came through that Meadow's body had been found in a nearby 'crack house'. The subsequent inquest verdict gave her cause of death as an accidental overdose.

At the time, I kept the emotional impact of Meadow's troubling death very much to myself. When I next spoke to Harry, her death seemed a rather remote memory, as yet another newsworthy probation story was about to break.

Would anyone really want to know about such a blighted life, hidden away from the hurly-burly of media or public interest? After all, who would want to be Meadow's lobbyist, aside from her estranged family, or a distractedly busy probation officer, out on the patch?

Mike Guilfoyle is a retired probation officer.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Meadow, and to the indefatigable Harry Fletcher.