Jailhouse break of a positive kind

SINGAPORE, Dec 22 — He rises from the concrete floor, walks to the microphone at the front of the yard, unfolds a piece of A4-sized paper and begins to read from it.

It is a short speech in English, giving his name, inmate number and reasons for cutting his ties with his secret society. He shifts uneasily, not taking his eyes off the paper.

Applause greets him at the end of his speech. His audience: About 200 fellow prisoners and a clutch of prison and police officers, as well as counsellors.

Another name is called, and another man steps up. This goes on until all five have renounced their gang ties.

Since August, 68 prisoners have gone through this ritual to mark their break from gangsterism.

Superintendent Vincent Chew, who heads the prisons’ gang management team, said: “We want them to be brave. You must be able to face your fellow members when you go outside.”

It takes guts to make such a declaration in public. Fellow gang members could be among the convict population. Word will filter out of prison to other members. Inside prison, you risk being ostracised. Leave prison, and you risk getting hurt. More than the threat of physical harm and isolation, though, is the emotional trauma of renouncing a way of life and a support network of “friends”, “protectors” and “brothers”.

It is enough to make hardened criminals mull over the consequences of making that break, as one 44-year-old has done. It took him two years to break free — and the decision came only when he was jailed for the 11th time.

A secret society member since he was 11, he climbed the ranks to assistant headman and held sway over 100 members.

“I had power. I had money. I had people under me. It’s a bit difficult to let go like that,” he told The Straits Times.

Then he got married. When he last entered prison, he had just become the father of a baby boy. Having a family got him thinking about going straight.

There was also the matter of his mother, who is almost 80 and has to take a bus from Hougang to visit him whenever he lands in prison.

“Every time, she will ask me to quit. Every time, I say ‘yes’, but I don’t make the promise come true,” he said. “This time, I noticed she looked so old.”

Family and faith are the key reasons inmates take that final step. Some inmates do so because their parents had died while they were incarcerated for crimes linked to secret society or gang activities.

Others become more religious, and decide they can no longer “serve two masters”.

It is not a simple matter of being in a gang one day and out the next. For two months, prison officers and counsellors will have to gauge if the inmates are sincere about going straight and prepared for the pressures that may force them to go back to their old ways.

Supt Chew expects that by the end of March next year, 100 inmates would have declared themselves gang-free — and they would have to keep that way outside the prison walls too. Their renunciation would have been documented by the police, so officers would keep track of them.

But what of the danger within and outside the prison walls posed by gang members upset over what they consider as acts of betrayal?

“All these people who renounce, we watch them very carefully for the next one month,” said Supt Chew.

Other inmates are warned against harassing them, and officers keep an eye on them to reassure them of protection.

The prison’s zero tolerance policy on gang activity has helped to cut down gang-related violence significantly, from 13 cases in 2006 to six last year. Since 2001, each inmate has had to declare his gang affiliations, if any, and undertake not to take part in gang activities while behind bars. Even drawing gang logos or symbols on letters sent out of prison is considered a breach of the rules.

“Any manifestation is a stark reminder that they must fight for their gang,” said Supt Chew.

Punishments for such breaches include solitary confinement — up to a year’s stay in a cell with minimal interaction.

Such rules have put the brakes on recruitment of new members in prison as well. Ex-convicts recounted how it was natural in the past to seek out “brothers” when in jail, just to have a familiar face who could watch their backs for them.

A 33-year-old, who was released early this year after serving an eight-year term for drug crimes, said: “Secret society activities are not so obvious anymore. Before, the gangs were more active.”

When he first went to jail in the 1990s, inmates from the same gang passed him chilli sauce and snacks, which he was not entitled to “buy” as a new prisoner. Such tactics were used also to draw new members into the fold, along with the promise of “protection” from other inmates’ actions.

It is a notion that Supt Chew wants to change: “Protection of inmates should be guaranteed by prison officers and not gang members. We ensure that the prisons are a safe and secure place for everyone, including secret society members.”

According to a prison spokesman, recruitment is now rare, with just one case detected each in 2007 and last year. No cases have been detected so far this year.

The former gang leader interviewed gave another reason for the slowdown in gang activity: “Nowadays, prisons have more cameras, more manpower. Everything you do, they know. You cannot hide. Before you fight, they already know where you’re going to fight.”

There are other inmates who want to follow in his footsteps but are afraid their gangs will “go and find them when they are released”, he said. But he does not think life will be so tough for former gangsters outside nowadays.

He recalled how in the past, breaking from the fold meant a “whacking”. “This new generation, I am not so sure,” he said.

He acknowledged that some inmates had been giving him the cold shoulder. “If they don’t want to be friends, that’s okay with me,” he said.

By all accounts, the power of gangs is on the wane. Initiation ceremonies and other “blood brotherhood” rituals that make much of membership have all but been abandoned. They are so loosely organised that the police now label them “street-corner gangs”.

About 10 main gangs still exist, said Supt Chew.

He said inmates will be given help finding jobs when they are released. They also have a helpline to call officers at the Criminal Investigation Department if they are harassed.

There are even plans to start an “ex-gang member alumni”, a support group for inmates to help each other when they are out of jail.

The former gang leader is now studying for a certificate in general education and hopes to land a job servicing air-conditioners when he is released in June 2011. “You have to stand firm,” he said.

He was not afraid to go through the ceremony several months ago, he claimed — just shy.

“I told them why I wanted to renounce: my mother, my family, my religion... and that I didn’t want to go back to prison anymore.” — The Straits Times

 

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