Double murderer and rapist Colin Pitchfork should not be freed. If it were up to me he would never get parole.
Pitchfork was jailed in 1988 after raping and strangling 15-year-old’s Lynda Mann and Dawn Ashworth in Leicestershire in 1983 and 1986 but he is perhaps better known as the first man to be convicted of murder on the basis of DNA evidence and was sentenced to Life in prison with a minimum term of 30 years.
The Lord Chief Justice of England and Wales at the time of Pitchfork’s sentencing said that “from the point of view of the safety of the public, I doubt if he should ever be released.”
What’s changed?
I have not read the 1,100 page dossier that convinced the Parole Board to release Pitchfork, but I have seen various newspaper reports that the board believes that his 33 years in prison have changed him for the “positive” and that he has made “extensive efforts to help others.”
He has also rediscovered his love of music and has completed a number of courses while in prison “to address offending behaviour”.
These include the Ministry of Justice’s Sex Offender Treatment Programme (SOTP), which was introduced into prisons in England and Wales in 1991 in a bid to change the behaviour of sex offenders.
However a damning report about the impact of the SOTP revealed that the programme actually made those who took it more likely to re-offend and so it was scrapped in 2017.
Pitchfork has never undertaken therapy at HMP Grendon – the only prison in the whole of Europe to work as a psycho-dynamic therapeutic community, and which was the model for the successful Barlinnie Special Unit.
His failure to do so means that a number of bizarre features of his offending and the misogyny inherent in that offending will have remained unchallenged.
Frankly, I simply don’t believe that there is compelling evidence that I have seen that Pitchfork has changed and, like an increasing number of prisoners, has simply “gamed” the system by covering himself in the cloak of rehabilitation in a bid to gain release.
He knows the language to use, but has no real or authentic understanding of what the words mean and how that should change his behaviour.
For me the bigger question remains if there was genuine proof that he had changed, would I then support his release back into the community?
Again the answer has to be no.
Every criminal justice system (CJS) needs to be able to set what it believes to be suitable parameters for the behaviour of society as a whole.
The CJS draws a line in the sand for society that marks the boundary between what is acceptable and what is not; what is civilised and barbaric; and what can be forgiven and what must never be forgotten.
A decision to release Pitchfork blurs that line and creates an impression – whether intended or not - that his possible rehabilitation outweighs all other considerations, when clearly it should not.
I think that we would do well to keep in mind that if Pitchfork had committed these offences now he would have received a sentence of a whole-life tariff.
That alone tells us this is a man who should never taste freedom.
Reform can’t forget crimes
I do believe that offenders can change their behaviour and have spent much of my career – both as a prison Governor and now as a Criminologist – advocating for regimes that really can help to create a positive impact on the lives of prisoners.
I know I bang on about HMP Grendon, but that’s a specialist facility – managing some men who are dangerous, damaged and disturbed - and what happens there cannot simply be applied to other prisons which don’t have the same levels of staff, or the resources to be able to cope with the types of prisoners that Grendon receives.
However, whether we are talking about Scotland or England, it is clear that the vast majority of the men who get sent to prison have on average a reading age of 7, are largely innumerate and would find it difficult to write a letter, never mind complete a job application.
That reality is just one of the reasons that I admired the BBC drama Time so much – it didn’t shirk from explaining who were being sent to prison and the chaos of their lives in terms of their addictions, lack of education, or underlying mental health issues.
However, I know from my own experience, that prison reform must be hard-headed rather than soft-hearted or very quickly you start to forget about the damage that some offenders have caused to their families and communities and what damage they might still be capable of doing in the future.
Noel is proof it can work
I was delighted to see a number of emails in my inbox this week from readers of the column who have also downloaded and listened to my podcast with Emilia Fox called If it Bleeds, It Leads.
The first episode was chosen with some care and featured my friend, the former bank robber Noel “Razor” Smith.
I am happy to call Noel my “friend” because I know how hard he worked to change his behaviour while he was in prison – spending 5 years in therapy at HMP Grendon.
And, of course, he’s never re-offended since being released.
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