Most people that talk to me about my empathy for Death Row prisoners start at the same place; they have a pre-formed picture of the sort of folk that end up there and presume they are monsters and ghouls.

It’s an institutionalised viewpoint that is rooted in the lurid headlines written about their crimes and a polarised fixation by TV companies to focus on the weirdest and most gory characters.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some very sick souls out there but those people are rarer than you imagine. The vast majority of offenders are victims themselves and experience a childhood laced with neglect, poverty, lack of parenting, broken homes, addiction issues and abuse.

Childhood trauma frequently exposes itself in teen years and early adulthood as people living chaotic lifestyles, making poor choices, rash thinking and prone to outbursts. Yet these details are rarely reported in newspapers and broadcasts, the viewing figures and subscriptions are no doubt higher when the focus is on just the crime.

I am in daily contact with a handful of prisoners, weekly exchanges with many more. We communicate via phone, videocall and email. We have perfectly ordinary conversations ranging from the every day – “what did you have for lunch?” to revealing stories of childhood molestation, chronic neglect, physical abuse and desertion. I can’t think of one prisoner that I know who grew up in any standardised fashion. Some were subjected to such hideous abuse and cruelty, the details have rendered me speechless.

When children are raised in disruption and chaos they will inevitably suffer – and sadly cause suffering – as adults.
Away from advocacy for MS Death Row I have two penpals in other states. Both these guys endured appalling childhoods suffering physical and sexual assault, attempted murder by a parent, abandonment and severe neglect. It is no surprise at all that both ended up living a ‘street’ lifestyle and one became a serial killer.

I have exchanged emails with his lawyer, she was curious to know who I am and the reason for the uptick in her client’s mood. The friendship with him is just as important to me, we share the same sarcastic sense of humour and love laughing about all the fools in public office. He’s kind, thoughtful and supportive and I try to be the same with him. Since being sentenced to death and incarcerated he has been diagnosed with, amongst other things, a personality disorder. He is taking medication and his audio hallucinations have improved.

If only somebody had thought to put a caring arm on his shoulder at a young age, his life – and the lives of the people killed by him – might have been saved.

Until we choose as a society to spend more time and invest in young families and their children we can expect a cradle to prison cell outcome for some.

It is us who seem institutionalised, not them.


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