IMBs told: don’t fix it

 

• Leaked memos reveal ‘change strategy’ for watchdogs
• Monitors told it’s not their job to solve problems

Prison watchdogs have been told to stop pursuing complaints on behalf of prisoners – because it takes up too much time.

The instruction has been issued to members of the Independent Monitoring Boards (IMBs), the volunteers who visit every prison in England and Wales to assess conditions and help prisoners with problems.

The Boards are suffering from a shortage of volunteers, with 700 current vacancies, meaning that at some prisons they struggle to monitor all areas and produce annual reports on time.

In response, the IMB Secretariat – a team of civil servants in London, responsible for co-ordinating the work of local Boards – has embarked on a ‘change strategy’ to make the workload more manageable.

A set of proposals was circulated to selected IMB members over the summer. But when they were discussed in focus groups, they provoked anger among some members who disagreed with the ideas.

Most controversial was a suggestion that IMBs should spend less time dealing with ‘apps’ – the forms submitted by individual prisoners seeking help with a problem that the prison’s own complaints system has failed to resolve.

A memo sent by the IMB Secretariat and leaked to Inside Time states: “Monitoring must always be the priority activity undertaken by a Board … The time spent on apps should be proportionate and balanced within other monitoring activities; Boards that spend too much time embroiled in the detail could miss the bigger picture and fail to identify systemic problems.

“The ‘taking of applications’ does not mean that a Board should fix or actively pursue the issue raised by the detained person, as this simply masks the failures in the prison/immigration detention system. It is the role of the IMB to put pressure on establishment staff to address the problem instead, and usually to advise the prisoner or detained person how they can pursue the issue themselves.”

Also circulated was a ‘template letter’ (pictured), which IMBs could send to prisoners who have submitted apps. It begins: “As you may know, in dealing with applications the IMB role is not to sort out the problem, or carry out an investigation.”

One IMB member who took part in a focus group told Inside Time: “There was a lot of anger in my group about these proposals. The National Management Board of the Secretariat is pushing through these changes against the wishes of most IMB members, and they don’t have the authority to do that.

“Prisoners submit apps to the IMB when they have a problem and the prison’s complaints system hasn’t worked. It’s being suggested we fob them off with a template letter telling them to put in another complaint – but if we do that, they’ll lose all confidence in the IMB. We need the trust of prisoners to provide us with information to support our monitoring.”

Despite the objections, the Secretariat is pressing ahead with its plans and will issue a document called ‘Expectations’ in January, setting out guidelines which local IMBs will be expected to follow.

A national IMB spokesperson said: “While we understand why prisoners may look to IMBs to resolve individual problems, it is the role of the IMB to monitor places of detention, not fix issues directly. As such the time spent on applications should be proportionate and balanced within other monitoring activities.

“For example, we know that the poor management of property by HMPPS has a significant impact on individuals. Addressing these issues on a case-by-case basis may offer short-term relief but does not lead to long-term improvement. The IMB uses monitoring findings to inform thematic publications and broader awareness, which are designed to influence policy and practice at a systemic level.”

The spokesperson acknowledged that there had been objections from some IMB members, adding: “As with any focus group, a range of views were expressed, including differing and sometimes strongly held opinions … All feedback was considered carefully by the member-led advisory groups who developed the draft frameworks.”

The spokesperson said that the changes would “improve the consistency and quality of monitoring across the organisation, provide greater clarity about expectation for both new and existing members, and make the IMB more sustainable in a declining voluntary sector”.

Juries don’t guarantee fair trials

 I was interested to read political columnist Charlie Elphick refer to the Magna Carta in his objection to trials without juries (Juryless trials are not the answer, August). I have also heard both the Government and the Tories use the great charter to justify jury trials, with Justice Minister Sarah Sackman referring to the Magna Carta as a reason why jury trials will remain the ‘cornerstone’ of our justice system.

However, the Magna Carta never mentions trial by jury and certainly does not enshrine it in law. This is a myth. Jury trial as we now see it came later. The Magna Carta was a royal charter of rights granted by King John of England on June 15, 1215, under the threat of civil war.

It followed the rejection of unequal and tyrannical royal power by a group of rebellious English Barons. It was, in fact, a peace treaty that prescribed fairness across a range of areas, including customs, trading standards, tax and inheritance, and ‘liberties’, covering the freedom of the English church, the payment of fines (usually corn or chattels) and the rule of law – asserting the novel idea for its time that the law should be applied fairly.

The closest that the Magna Carta came to mentioning jury trials was in clause 3a, translated from Latin as saying ‘…nor will we go against such a man, or send against him, save by lawful judgement of his peers or by the law of the land’. The word ‘peers’ should not be interpreted as being your humble next-door neighbour who might be called for jury service. It means a non-royal. 

The Magna Carta supported judicial oversight by ‘justices’ (judges) who were our peers, not noble elites as was previously the case. When the Magna Carta referred to ‘the lawful judgement of his peers’, it meant by judges as opposed to the royals. There was no mention of juries. However, it is broadly accepted that the Magna Carta was important in the later evolution of the modern jury trial we now see.

At the time, trials were often an inhumane and barbaric ritual of ‘trial by ordeal’ which could have involved the torture of the accused, any witnesses, and sometimes the accuser too. If I were a current or former government minister, I would be very hesitant about referring to the Magna Carta because in clause 40 it was clear in saying: “To no one will we deny or delay justice.”

Sixty percent of rape complainants drop out of the trial process because of delays. This is an atrocity. The Government has no right to use this ancient text when it serves it, and then completely disregard it when it doesn’t. Beyond sentimental reflection, any reference to the Magna Carta needs to be dropped when it comes to reform, with a strong and sustained focus instead placed on Article 6 of the European Convention on Human Rights – the right to a fair trial.

It doesn’t seem fair that we have a current jury model that gives its most difficult cases, between 3 and 10 per cent, to our least competent group of people to decide on a safe verdict. Despite what ‘public instincts’ might tell us, there is no compelling empirical evidence that jury trials actually work.

Jury research is banned. In effect, we rely on a crucial evidence-focused model of justice when there is no evidence that it actually works. How can that prove anything beyond ‘reasonable doubt’? Worse than that, we could develop a true and efficient model where guilt or innocence could be clearly determined through one robust and scientific and technical evaluation of the evidence in a way that would leave little doubt – but we choose not to because of some outdated sentimental nonsense about an old treaty and ‘human instinct’. Is that fair?

Warehouse overcrowding

 Warehouse (prison) overcrowding causes the following issues, but the incompetent and corrupt government refuse to listen to good advice. 

• Warehouses continue to mix vapers with non-vapers in the same cell, which is against the law.
• There are not enough officers and staff to operate proper regimes and rehabilitate prisoners. 
• There are not enough work, education or opportunities, so most prisoners are unemployed. 
• There are no spaces to move prisoners or punish prisoners with a ship-out, due to the one-in, one-out policy.  
• Tension, bullying, threats, and violence are on the increase because prisoners are frustrated and angry.  

Prison is no more than a human warehouse and prisoners are packed in like a tin of sardines.

Female officer charged over sex with prisoner at Coldingley

 A 23-year-old woman is standing trial accused of having sex with a prisoner at HMP Coldingley while working there as a prison officer.

Jurors at Southwark Crown Court heard that a liaison between the pair took place in the prison’s multi-faith room, which has no CCTV cameras within it, while two other prisoners kept watch outside.

The woman was allegedly seen on CCTV leaving the room four minutes after entering it with the prisoner, while appearing to “readjust her belt area”. Days later she received a message from the prisoner saying: “It was good sharing dat love today ur p*****s ammaazzzeeeingggggg”.

The woman is charged with two counts of misconduct in a public office, and one of carrying drugs into the prison on behalf of her lover. The incidents are said to have occurred in July 2022. 

When they came to light, the woman was suspended and the prisoner was transferred to HMP Swaleside – where she visited him. When officers at Swaleside searched the man’s cell they found love letters between the pair and explicit photographs of her. The woman officer’s mobile phone also contained evidence of another affair she had held with an inmate in Coldingley, and texts from further inmates there.

The prisoner involved in the multi-faith room incident has admitted to having drugs smuggled in. 

In a separate case, a 31-year-old woman appeared before Derby Magistrates’ Court in October accused of having an illicit relationship with a prisoner whilst working as a prison officer at HMP Dovegate.

The woman faces a charge of misconduct in a public office and is due to appear before Derby Crown Court on 6 November. The Daily Mail reported that since the alleged offence came to light, she had since left the prison service and launched a new career as a self-employed beauty therapist.

Prison officer and inmate in court over relationship

 A prison officer and an inmate have appeared in court jointly charged with misconduct in public office after allegedly having a sexual relationship.

Alicia Novas, 19, and Declan Winkless, 30, appeared separately at Northampton Magistrates' Court on Monday charged with committing misconduct in public office at HMP Five Wells between August and December last year.

They are also both charged with making an illegal electronic transmission of an image at HMP Peterborough between December and March this year.

Ms Novas, acting as a prison custody officer, is accused of "wilfully" misconducting "herself in a way which amounted to an abuse of the public's trust".

The charges, detailed in court documents, state that Mr Winkless is alleged to have encouraged and assisted both offences.

The court heard that Ms Novas provided her telephone number to Mr Winkless, failed to report his possession of a telephone and cannabis, and entered "into a sexual relationship" with him.

A second joint charge of misconduct is said to have been committed by the pair on 23 November, when Ms Novas provided information about whether Mr Winkless was suspected of wrongdoing by prison authorities.

Both defendants face further charges of making an illegal electronic transmission from a prison, one of bringing, throwing or conveying cannabis into a prison and one of conveying two mobile phones into a jail, all relating to HMP Five Wells, near Wellingborough.

Mr Winkless, of HMP Swaleside in Kent, and formerly of South Wigston, Leicestershire, faces a seventh charge of possessing a mobile phone with a sim card at Five Wells without authority on 22 December.

Neither defendant was asked to enter a plea during the hearings and they were ordered to appear at Northampton Crown Court on 1 December.

Ms Novas, wearing a white top and black trousers, appeared in court in person while Mr Winkless appeared before magistrates via a prison video-link.

The female defendant, of Raunds, Northamptonshire, was granted bail with conditions not to contact Mr Winkless, not to contact any serving HMP prisoner by any means and not to attend any prison except by prior arrangement.

Prison officer ‘engaged in sex act’ with inmate in prayer room while others kept watch

 A prison officer performed a sex act with an inmate inside the prison prayer room, a court has heard.

As Isabelle Dale, 23, romped with convicted robber Shahid Shariff at HMP Coldingley in Surrey, two other inmates acted as ‘lookouts’, a trial has heard.

Sharif, who was three years into a twelve-year sentence, was transferred after the alleged encounter to HMP Swaleside on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent.

But he got to Dale to help him smuggle envelopes ‘laced with spice’ into his new prison, jurors heard.

Dale allegedly operated Sharif’s drug-dealing Snapchat account and was supposed to source the synthetic cannabis from an associate of Shariff’s based in Brighton.

Police later found drug-smuggling paraphernalia in the boot of Dale’s car, along with an engagement ring Dale said was bought for her by Sharif.

While at HMP Coldingley, Dale is also accused of engaging in ‘at least’ one other sexual relationship with inmates at the Surrey prison.

Recovered text messages ‘clearly showed’ a sexual relationship with a serving prisoner called Connor Money, referred to in messages by her as ‘Con’, jurors heard.

Dale’s trial began at Southwark Crown Court this week and is expected to last at least two weeks.

Sharif is not on trial after already pleading guilty to conspiring with the two women and others unknown to convey drugs into prison.

Prosecutor Kieran Brand said: ‘The prosecution’s case is that she was in a sexual relationship with a male named Shahid Sharif, who was a serving prison inmate, initially at HMP Coldingley while Miss Dale worked there.

‘Their intimate relationship led to Miss Dale agreeing with him to smuggle contraband, including the illegal drug ‘spice’, into the prison. It is further alleged that Miss Dale had a sexual relationship with at least one other prisoner.’

He added that on July 19, 2022, Dale and Shariff were seen entering the prison’s multifaith room, where they remained for four minutes.

‘The multi-faith room is not covered by CCTV: the prosecution says it is clear they went in there for some form of sexual activity,’ Brand said.

An examination of Dale’s phone after arrest revealed a message sent from Shariff that read: ‘It was good sharing dat love today ur p***ies ammaazzzeeeingggggg’, the prosecutor said.

He said Sharif was then transferred to HMP Swaleside, where Dale visited him on three separate occasions between September and October 2022.

‘The CCTV for the social visit held on 27th September 2022 shows Miss Dale in civilian clothing embracing and kissing Mr Sharif,’ he said.

Brand said Dale sent Sharif flirty images via the ’email a prisoner system’ and transferred £100 across two payments while working as a prison officer.

When Dale was arrested, police found a packet of carbon paper used to hide contraband from prison x-ray machines in Dale’s car and a ‘framed canvas’ of the couple hanging over the prison officer’s bed at home.

Brand said: ‘The prison conducted a search of Mr Sharif’s cell, where a quantity of love letters, as well as a number of provocative photographs from Miss Dale, were recovered.

‘There is also evidence on Miss Dale’s phone showing that she communicated with two further prisoners via illegally held mobile phones.

Brand said that Sharif and Dale later discussed her ‘going to Brighton, where Miss Sallis lived, to collect spice-soaked envelopes which Miss Dale can provide to Mr Sharif for him to sell in prison.’

Dale, of Portsmouth, denies two counts of misconduct in a public office and conspiracy to convey a ‘List A’ prohibited article into prison.

Sallis, of East Sussex, denies conspiracy to convey a ‘List A’ prohibited article into prison.

Prison officer given suspended term for inmate affair

 Megan Breen, 23, an operational support staff member with direct contact with prisoners, began an inappropriate relationship with an inmate between February and May 2022 at HMP Prescoed in Usk, Monmouthshire.

The court heard how she had met the inmate for drinks in Liverpool during a trip for her 20th birthday with two other prison colleagues.

At Cardiff Crown Court on Friday, Breen, who is now pregnant, was sentenced to 10 months in prison, suspended for 18 months, and ordered to complete 15 days of rehabilitation and pay £500 in costs.

The court heard Breen had received a week's induction, including training on the codes of conduct which clearly prohibited relationships with prisoners.

Concerns were raised by a colleague after Breen accessed the prison database to find a photo of the inmate and then admitted she had slept with him during a trip to Liverpool.

The court heard how the prisoner, jailed for conspiracy to supply Class A drugs, had met Breen while on home leave in the Merseyside-Cheshire area where they went for drinks before going back to her hotel room.

The pair exchanged hundreds of messages, and Breen also met his parents before her colleague reported the relationship to prison security, the court was told.

Messages found on the inmate's prison-issued Nokia phone, including heart emojis and expressions of love, confirmed a romantic relationship.

Police seized the phone, and a note with Breen's contact details was also found in the inmate's cell.

Breen admitted to the "short-lived relationship", saying some staff and prisoners were aware.

A police investigation also confirmed Breen had made several journeys to Liverpool in April, after the prisoner was released on licence in March 2022.

She initially gave no comment in interviews but later pleaded guilty before trial.

Scott Bowen, defending, said Breen was a single mother, a carer for another child, recently discovered she is pregnant, and described the case as one that would "haunt her".

"She made it clear it was the most difficult morning of her life saying goodbye to her son, and knowing she may not see him for the forseeable," Mr Bowen added.

Judge Tracey Lloyd-Clarke said Breen showed "remorse", did not pose a danger to the public, and noted her pregnancy and childcare duties as key reasons for suspending the sentence.

She said immediate custody would harm others, including Breen's son, unborn child, and the child she cares for, making this an "exceptional case".

A second charge of unauthorised computer access was ordered to lie on file.

Three songs

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the forgotten sentance part 7

 It’s strange what you start noticing after enough years inside.

The things that used to matter — money, bravado, reputation — they fade like old ink.
What sticks are the little things.
The sound of keys at shift change.
The way the light hits the landing just before lock-up.
The smell of burnt toast from a kettle, when someone’s trying to make breakfast out of nothing.

You start measuring time differently.
Not by hours or days — those blur together — but by moments.
Who got shipped out. Who got released. Who didn’t make it through the night.

There’s a rhythm to prison life, but it’s not peace — it’s survival.
You learn who to trust, which isn’t many.
You learn when to speak, and when silence is your only weapon.
You learn that a man can be surrounded by hundreds of others and still feel more alone than he ever did on the streets.

After my dad died, something shifted in me.
For years, I’d been angry at everyone — the system, the screws, the world, myself most of all.
But grief burns through anger eventually.
Leaves only ash.
And when all that’s left is ash, you’ve got two choices — let the wind take what’s left of you, or rebuild from it.

I didn’t know how to rebuild, not at first.
So I started small.
I read.
Wrote.
Listened.

I’d sit in my cell at night, pen in hand, writing letters I never sent — to my sister, to my fiancée, to my dad.
I’d tell them about my day. About how I was trying to do better. About how I hoped they’d be proud, even though I’d messed up so many times.
Sometimes I’d imagine them writing back.
Sometimes I’d write both sides of the conversation, just so I could feel like someone was still talking to me.
I guess that was my way of staying human.

Then I got moved — another wing, another governor, same walls.
But I’d changed.
Something inside me had settled. Not peace exactly, but acceptance.
I started helping out the younger lads — the ones who reminded me of myself at seventeen.
Hot-headed. Lost.
Boys who thought doing bird made them men.
I’d pull them aside, tell them, “Don’t let this place make you smaller than you already feel.”
Most of them would laugh it off. But some listened.
And when one of them managed to stay out of trouble, or got his head down and started studying, it felt like a small win — a light flickering in all this darkness.

It’s not redemption. I don’t even know what that word really means anymore.
You can’t undo what’s been done.
You can’t bring people back.
All you can do is try to be less broken than you were yesterday.

I started going to chapel more, too. Not because I suddenly found religion, but because it was quiet.
A place where I could breathe without feeling like someone was watching me.
The chaplain once said to me, “Forgiveness starts when you stop fighting yourself.”
I didn’t understand it then.
But I think I do now.

I still have bad days.
Days when the memories hit too hard, when the silence feels like a weight pressing on my chest.
Days when I hear a song from the outside — on someone’s radio, through a vent — and it takes me straight back to a different time, a different version of me.
That’s the worst kind of punishment — not the walls or the bars, but the memories that keep reminding you of who you used to be.

But I’ve learned to sit with it. To breathe through it.
You can’t run from yourself in a place like this.
There’s nowhere to go.
You either face your demons, or they eat you alive.

I see it all the time — lads who never face theirs.
They hide behind gym sessions, drugs, bravado, fights.
They talk loud, act tough. But it’s fear, really.
Fear of what’ll happen if they ever stop pretending.
I used to be one of them.

Now I just try to be real.
If someone asks how I’m doing, I tell them the truth — even if it’s ugly.
Especially if it’s ugly.

I still dream about freedom.
About stepping outside those gates with no cuffs, no escort, no number on my chest.
I imagine the air — clean, sharp, real.
I imagine the sky without mesh or wire.
I don’t even picture parties or reunions anymore.
Just a walk. Down a quiet street. Maybe a park.
Maybe watching kids play football, hearing their laughter, knowing life carried on even when mine was paused.

Sometimes I think about visiting my dad’s grave.
I never got to go properly, not without officers standing behind me, watching every breath I took.
When I get out — if I get out — that’s the first place I’ll go.
Not to cry. Not to talk. Just to stand there, free, and tell him I made it.

I’ve spent most of my life behind these walls.
But I don’t want to die in here.
I want to live long enough to see what the world looks like without gates and search dogs and strip checks.
I want to see the sunset without bars across it.
I want to sit at a table, drink a cup of tea, and not have to look over my shoulder every five seconds.

That’s all I want now.
Not revenge. Not respect. Just peace.
The kind my dad always tried to teach me — the quiet kind that doesn’t need proving.

So while I wait for the parole board to decide my fate, I’m not wasting my time.
I’m working on myself.
Reading. Writing. Helping others where I can.
Trying to be someone my family could recognise again.

If they give me that chance, I won’t waste it.
And if they don’t…
I’ll keep waiting. Keep writing. Keep breathing.

Because in here, hope is the only thing they can’t lock up.
And for as long as I’ve still got that, I’m free — even if the door hasn’t opened yet.

Five inmates released in error, union says

 A prisoner has been mistakenly released from a jail in Hertfordshire in the past week, a union has said.

The Prison Officers' Association (POA) said the inmate was set free from HMP The Mount on the outskirts of Bovingdon.

The union claimed there had been five releases made in error in the same week that migrant sex offender Hadush Kebatu was set free by mistake.

The Ministry of Justice (MoJ) disputed the POA figure and said it had introduced "stronger release checks".

The Mount is a Category C men's prison which was built on the site of a former RAF station.

It has a capacity of 1,028 prisoners.

It was named by the POA as one of four places where mistaken releases had taken place within the last seven days.

The POA's national chairman, Mark Fairhurst, told the BBC: "Over the last 12 months, there have been 262 releases in error.

"And only this week, over the the last seven days, there have been five from five separate prisons."

He continued: "Are staff being adequately trained? Are the workloads excessive?"

Mr Fairhurst said there had been releases from HMP Pentonville in north London, HMP Durham and from Reading Crown Court, as well as at The Mount.

The number of mistaken releases for 2024-25 is more than twice the number in the previous year, when 115 inmates were freed through error.

The Ministry of Justice disputed the number of mistaken releases from the last seven days, but declined to say where any of them happened.

The POA declined to provide any further details of individual incidents.

Kebatu, who was jailed for sexually assaulting a 14-year-old girl and a woman in Epping in Essex, was brought back into custody two days after being set free.

He has since been deported from the UK.

An MoJ spokesperson said: "Releases in error have been increasing for several years and are another symptom of the prison system crisis inherited by this government.

"As well as building more prison places and reforming sentencing, we have introduced mandatory, stronger prisoner release checks to keep our streets safe and protect the public."

Police hunt for two men mistakenly released from prison

 Police are searching for two prisoners who were separately released in error from a London prison in the past week.

Brahim Kaddour-Cherif, an Algerian man facing deportation from the UK, and convicted fraudster William Smith were let out of Wandsworth Prison on 29 October and 3 November respectively.

It comes just weeks after migrant sex offender Hadush Kebatu, who arrived in the UK on a small boat, was also mistakenly released from HMP Chelmsford in Essex.

It leaves Justice Secretary David Lammy under fire, after he had promised to put in place extra checks to prevent similar cases after Kebatu's release.

During Prime Minister's Questions, Lammy, who was standing in for Sir Keir Starmer, was repeatedly asked whether any asylum-seeking offender had been accidentally let out of prison since Kebatu was released but he refused to answer.

As PMQs was ending, the Met Police released a statement revealing a foreign prisoner had been released by mistake last Wednesday, with the force informed on Tuesday.

The police later confirmed the man was 24-year-old Kaddour-Cherif and they believed he had links to Tower Hamlets and Westminster in London.

The BBC has been told he is not an asylum seeker and that Lammy was informed overnight about the accidental release.

Kaddour-Cherif is understood to have entered the UK legally on a visit visa in 2019 but overstayed his visa with a "probable over-stayer" case created in 2020.

Court records show that on 23 June he appeared at Croydon Magistrates Court, accused of handling stolen bank cards in August of last year. He denied the allegation - and the case was adjourned for a future trial.

Shadow defence secretary James Cartlidge, deputising for Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch, repeatedly asked the same question which Lammy did not answer and instead the Conservative government's record in office on prisons.

Later, a Ministry of Justice spokesperson said: "On entering the House [of Commons], facts were still emerging about the case and the deputy prime minister had not been accurately informed of key details including the offender's immigration status.

"The DPM waited until after PMQs and further facts had emerged before making a statement."

After the Met Police announced the mistaken release of Kaddour-Cherif, Lammy put out a statement in which he said he was "absolutely outraged and appalled".

"Victims deserve better and the public deserve answers.

"That is why I have already brought in the strongest checks ever to clamp down on such failures and ordered an independent investigation, led by Dame Lynne Owens to uncover what went wrong and address the rise in accidental releases which has persisted for too long."

Conservative shadow home secretary Chris Philp said: "It is shocking that once again the Labour government has mistakenly allowed a foreign criminal to be released from prison."

"This makes a mockery of Lammy's claims at PMQs to have introduced the 'strongest checks ever' on release."

The Liberal Democrats' justice spokesperson Jess Brown-Fuller called for "a full explanation about how this has happened again".

Reform UK said it was "seriously concerned that the deputy prime minister inadvertently misled" the House of Commons.

Andrew Slaughter, Labour MP and chair of Parliament's Justice Committee, said the prison system had been "starved of investment" and faced "overcrowding and understaffing within a decaying prison estate characterised by chaos and instability".

Hours after the Met Police's announcement, Surrey Police said another man - William Smith - had also been released in error from Wandsworth Prison in the past week.

In a Facebook post,, external Surrey Police said Smith had been sentenced to 45 months for "multiple fraud offences" on Monday but had been released later the same day.

The BBC understands that Smith was mistakenly recorded as receiving a suspended sentence rather than a custodial one."

The error was corrected by the court but the amendment was sent to the wrong person.

Smith is described as white, bald and clean-shaven, police say, adding: "Smith was last seen wearing a navy long sleeve jumper with the Nike brand 'tick' across the front in white, navy blue tracksuit bottoms with a Nike 'tick' in white on the left pocket, and black trainers."

The police urged the public get in touch if they had any information.

Some 262 prisoners in England and Wales were mistakenly released in the year to March 2025, according to the latest figures, up 128% from 115 the previous year.

Staff at HMP Wandsworth told the BBC the prison has been in a state of panic after the accidental release.

Security has been a major concern at the prison for some time. An inspection report last year found chaos on the wings, with staff across most units unable to confirm where all their prisoners were during the working day.

In 2023 Daniel Khalife escaped from HMP Wandsworth while awaiting trial for spying for Iran.

still behind these walls

Seventeen — a kid with fire in his chest,
Thought the world owed him, thought crime was a test.
Ran with the wolves, no thought for the cost,
One wrong move, and my freedom was lost.

Cat A first — locked tight, no sleep,
Where screams echo deep, and secrets creep.
Cat B came next — a little less steel,
But still no sunrise I could feel.

Then Cat D — a taste of near-free,
Jobs on the wing, a walk by the sea.
Thought I’d make it, thought I’d change —
But old ghosts called, and I stayed the same.

Now Cat C, a man grown grey,
Thirty-five winters have stolen my days.
Seen boys turn men, men fade to ghosts,
Seen time itself toast the ones it loves most.

No more fights left, no more pride,
Just ink on paper, nowhere to hide.
Still dream of roads I’ll never roam,
Still call these bars my borrowed home.

Seventeen once, full of rage and flame —
Now fifty-two, still wearin’ my name.
The system changed me, or maybe it didn’t —
Either way, I’m still here… unbidden.

Letters Across Time

Martha and Henry lived in a house that had grown small with age. The paint on the siding had peeled in places, the garden that Henry had once tended with meticulous care had grown wild, and the quiet hum of the neighborhood was punctuated only by the occasional bark of a dog or the rumble of a passing truck. Inside, the house smelled faintly of tea and old wood, of books stacked precariously on the shelves, and of the lingering memory of their son, Daniel, whose absence had been a shadow in every room for more than thirty years.

It was early morning, and Martha was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded over a cup of lukewarm tea. Henry shuffled in from the living room, moving slower than he used to, his back bent, his shoulders hunched as though carrying invisible weights.

“They called again,” Henry said quietly, placing a folded envelope on the table. His voice was low, careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile world they had built in Daniel’s absence.

Martha reached for it with trembling hands. It was from the prison, a notice of visitation times, an updated schedule for his next parole hearing—or, as it had been for decades, nothing more than a reminder that he was still there.

“I can’t,” she said, the words falling like stones. “I just can’t do the drive anymore. My knees… and your back…”

Henry sat opposite her, letting his eyes linger on the envelope. “I know,” he said softly. “I feel the same. Thirty years, Martha. Thirty years of driving six hours each way, of waiting outside in that sterile, gray parking lot. My back screams at me the next day, and you—God, your knees…” He paused. “But I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop worrying.”

Martha’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “And he… he’s still there, waiting, wondering if we’ll show up. I hate that we can’t.”

The house seemed to grow quieter, heavier. The old clock on the wall ticked in deliberate, measured beats, marking the relentless passage of time. Outside, the wind rustled through the overgrown garden, and a single crow cawed from the fence post.

Henry reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Maybe… maybe it’s time to change the way we do this. We can’t go to him anymore, but we can bring him home in the only way left to us.”

Martha looked at him, searching his eyes for doubt, but found none. “Do you think he’d… understand?” she whispered.

“He’ll understand,” Henry said firmly. “He always has. He knows us. And we know him. Thirty years hasn’t changed that.”

So they began a new routine. Every morning, Martha would sit at the old desk by the window and write letters, carefully choosing her words, her handwriting deliberate and neat. Henry would sit beside her, clipping newspaper clippings, photographs, and little trinkets that Daniel had once loved. A knitted scarf from Martha, a baseball card Henry had kept from when Daniel was a boy, a jar of preserves from last summer’s harvest—they packed these items with love, imagining their son’s reaction as he opened them.

When the letters returned, they read them together, aloud, in the dim light of the living room. Henry’s voice would tremble sometimes, and Martha’s eyes would well up with tears. “He wrote back,” she would whisper, as if sharing a secret with the walls themselves. “He wrote back to us.”

And in those moments, the house transformed. The furniture seemed less heavy, the air less stale. They could feel Daniel’s presence in the flicker of the lamp, in the rustle of the curtains, in the very rhythm of their own hearts. It was not the same as holding him, but it was something—something that tethered them to the son they had lost so many years ago, and yet never truly lost.

The seasons passed. Snow fell and blanketed the garden in white, and Martha would sometimes stand at the window, watching the flakes drift lazily to the ground, thinking of Daniel walking through a similar winter inside the prison walls. Summer came, filling the air with the scent of grass and honeysuckle, and they sent packages of homemade jams and dried herbs. Every small item was a bridge across time and distance, a way of saying, We are here. We have not forgotten you.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills and painted the sky in bruised shades of orange and purple, Henry and Martha sat together in their living room, reading one of Daniel’s letters. It spoke of memories, of the small things that connected them, of hope and regret intertwined.

“I never stopped believing you’d be here for me,” Daniel had written. “Even when the years felt endless, I could feel you here. Every letter, every package… it was like you were sitting beside me.”

Martha laid the letter down, her hand finding Henry’s. “We can’t go to him,” she said, her voice a soft tremor. “But maybe this… this is enough.”

Henry nodded. “It’s more than enough,” he said. “Thirty years couldn’t break it. Nothing can.”

And in that quiet room, filled with memories, letters, and small treasures sent across miles of concrete and wire, they felt a fragile, precious kind of homecoming. It was not the reunion they had once dreamed of, but it was real, and it was theirs. In the twilight of their lives, they realized that love—steady, patient, unyielding—could cross any distance, bridge any barrier, and endure even thirty years apart.

And so, they kept writing, kept sending, kept hoping. Because sometimes, the greatest journeys are not measured in miles, but in the hearts that persist, and the love that refuses to fade.