We need a new wave of trust in communities

Author: | 16 Aug 2024

Our scholar Andrew Morris grew up wanting to be a policeman but, he writes, his life took a very different course.  After the recent riots, he reflects on his own experience and how it has lead him to found New Wave Trust dedicated to rebuilding trust between communities and between communities and the police.

I have a catalogue of memories in my mind from growing up on the Angell Town estate in Brixton. It was the place I proudly called home, where my core beliefs took shape. It was also usually associated with deprivation and criminality (although it has long since been gentrified).

I can’t quite remember how old I was at the time, but I was taken to the West End as a young boy. I saw sweets, lights, people and in a souvenir shop a child-sized version of a police hat. For some reason I was obsessed by it. I immediately decided that I wanted to join the police.

Members of my family, usually Mum, my grandmother or my aunt, would tell me that, if I was naughty, ‘the policeman will take you away’. I knew that there could be nothing good about that and surmised in my own childlike way that wanting to be a policeman could not be all bad.  I was not yet of an age when I could possibly know the ramifications of three major factors on my future life: being black; coming from Angell Town; and wanting to join the police.

As time went on, I saw some of the injustices that coated the area where I grew up. Very often I would hear that something or other had happened, and it usually involved the police. I clearly recall listening to my grandparents talking about the Mangrove Nine, a group of activists tried and ultimately acquitted of inciting a riot in 1970 after protesting about police targeting a Caribbean restaurant in Notting Hill. Their trial, though, had happened five years before I was even born so, as I listened in to the family talk, I had no real concept then of what it all meant. But what I knew was that it was not good, and that it related to something called ‘racism’.

A window on the world

Growing up on Angell Town, our kitchen window looked on to a grassy area. What unravelled there is one of my most vivid memories of childhood. I was barely eight-years-old when, on 28 September 1985, I heard the word ‘riot’. My grandmother told me that a lady called Cherry Groce, who lived around the corner from us, had been shot by the police (leaving her paralysed for the rest of her life). That evening, as I was looking out of our kitchen window with my gran, I saw the 1985 Brixton riots spreading onto a pathway running between our kitchen and the grassy area.

I am not ashamed to admit that I was afraid. The most terrifying moment came when, for reasons that were unclear, the police entered our block and smashed the rectangular window in our front door with their truncheons. They did the same to our neighbours. Mercifully they did not then enter our homes, although I never did get my head around why the police would do what they did.

The fear that engulfed me that night was not because people were rioting. It was a fear of the police. Yet, despite this, I still had that desire to join the police.

‘My peers beat me for wanting to join the police’

Then came my juxtaposition. One day as a teenager I was bundled into the back of a police van with a friend from the estate. He had been arrested on several occasions. I, on the other hand, had not. Still, I was cuffed and beaten up by two officers who told me to ‘scream for your mum’. I didn’t scream for Mum, although I did cry out from the pain of the unjust and vitriolic assault.

I had already been given a beating from my peers because I had dared to tell them I wanted to join the police. Now it was the police being violent towards me.  The combination of the two certainly disabused me of the idea of joining the police.

Instead, my bad encounter that day with the police led me to campaign about police transgressions. I was mentored for four years in this period by Rudy Narayan, the well-known barrister and civil rights campaigner.

‘I never imagined I’d be offered a job in government service’

In 1998, when I was 21, I experienced in a single year the deaths of first my grandmother, then Rudy, and finally a lady called Arlene, who took a keen interest in my development. My way of dealing with it was to drink like an alcoholic. There followed a period of remand for a crime I had not committed, but I emerged from HMP Brixton with a taste for cocaine. A turbulent lifestyle of crime, drugs and debauchery ensued.

I somehow found the determination to leave London in an effort to kick my bad habits, but in 2007, after I had been clean for almost a year, my demons came back to haunt me. I was still displaying ‘using behaviour’. I was quick-tempered and aggressive, and that got me into trouble and led to me being handed an indeterminate prison sentence, also known as IPP.

Nearing the end of my sentence, something surprising happened. It had never crossed my mind that I’d be offered a job in government service before even walking out through the prison gates to restart my life. But I was. Towards the end of long-term sentences, there is an unwritten rule that, for the most part, you get a chance to prove yourself by being tested in an open prison, which is pretty much what it says on the tin. You aren’t locked in and could run off at any time. Therein lies the test!

I remember one day, while in an open prison, when we were invited to an employability talk in the visitors’ hall. I had nothing else to do, so went along with no expectations. Our visitor began talking about something called ‘Going Forward into Employment’. It was a government scheme. He referred to some job adverts scattered around the room and invited us to look at them.

I read one or two and I remember thinking, ‘this a pipe-dream’. But in the same moment I had a euphoric sensation. I had started to imagine myself doing one of the jobs that I had just read about. Then came the blow. ‘This scheme,’ it read, ‘is not open to life-sentenced prisoners, or this and that blah blah blah’ My elation ebbed away.

‘The governor encouraged me to apply’

When the talk came to an end, I decided to speak to our visitor. ‘How can you come and tell me what I could have won,’ I challenged him, showing him the job advert. He shifted and smiled uneasily. As I walked away, I spoke to the governor who was there. He agreed with me and encouraged me to apply anyway. So, I did, and cast my cares into the sea of forgetfulness.

Then some time later something bizarre happened. A fellow prisoner came up to me and said, ‘you’ve got an interview’. I had forgotten about the application. I thought it must be a cruel joke. How could he know before me? But prison can be like that sometimes.

Sure enough I got a movement slip instructing me that I should be at the Working Out Scheme office (WOS) at an appointed date and time. Around 10 people were interviewed for the role. I walked into a room and met two representatives. Around half-an-hour later, they were done. I was left somersaulting in my mind about what else I could have said. They gave no indication either way of how the interview had gone.

‘I am proud of you. You got the job, well done’

About two months later I had left the prison on a planned overnight stay as part of my preparation for release. When I returned on 4 July, 2019, I was met by yet another prisoner who came up to me and said, ‘congratulations’. I was in a good mood having come back from time with family and friends, so I asked cheerfully, ‘what’s happened’? Simultaneously the governor came striding up to me with his hand outstretched! He shook my hand and said something I didn’t hear too often. ‘I am proud of you. You got the job, well done’.

I had been offered a role as an Assessment Officer at the Prisons’ and Probation Ombudsman, part of the Ministry of Justice. (The PPO investigates complaints from prisoners and those detained in secure environments.) I just couldn’t believe it. I mean how often does a convict get offered a job by the same government department that had the responsibility for locking them up in the first place?

‘Sometimes good things happen’

I kept thinking that it was not going to happen, just like the countless times that I thought I’d get parole and didn’t. But sometimes good things do happen. Four months later I had a parole hearing and told them that I had been offered a job at the PPO. I got the impression that they did not believe me. Once it was confirmed by my probation officer, the panel moved on as if they hadn’t just unnecessarily impugned the little bit of integrity I had left.

But, in the end, they directed my release and I left prison on 13 December 2019 and started work at the PPO the next month. In March 2020 the country went into national Covid lockdown. I was troubled in my work. I started harbouring fears that if I did or said anything deemed to be above my station, I’d be returned to prison.  I was treading very carefully. I felt like I wasn’t really free. I suspected I was experiencing a subtle form of bullying. Psychologically I was not in a good place, but I had no one to turn to.

‘A question of trust’

Several events eventually lead me to the conclusion that, at best, unconscious racial bias was present. I spoke to my union to get advice and guidance but they didn’t do anything. What I really wanted was for a tribunal to establish the truth, but without union support, my case couldn’t be heard.

Sometimes it can feel that all I have ever known is struggle – from growing up on Angell Town to fighting the injustice of a sentence with no end. Right now, like thousands of others, I eagerly await the termination of my IPP licence. It all comes down to trust – from losing trust in the police as a young man, to losing trust in the organisation where I worked. These experiences have never properly gone away because they haven’t been remedied.

And that is what has put me on the path to studying law at university. With the support of the Longford Trust, I have recently achieved my Diploma of Higher Education. Despite some of my uncertainties, I have not given into the temptation of adopting an anti-authority sentiment. Quite the opposite. I have founded New Wave Trust, which works to build brighter futures, break down barriers and tackle issues such as the ‘school-to-prison pipeline’, and to infuse what we do with lived experience wherever we have the capacity to do so. New Wave’s patron, Jackie Malton, is a former senior police officer. We became friends while she was volunteering in one of the prisons I was housed in.

The recent events in Southport, which then gave way to a climate of fear, violence and hate-fuelled rioting, have once again brought into sharp focus the vital work that needs to be done to rebuild trust. When I was growing up the tensions were often between the police and the community, irrespective of race, culture or creed. Today we appear to be finding ourselves with pressures between communities as well as with the police. My path going forward is to tackle this by fostering a mindset of renewed hope and determination. I hope as you read this you will be inspired to do the same.

An eye opening trip to visit Uganda prisons

Author: | 10 Nov 2022


As part of our
Employability project, this summer two current Longford Scholars won travelling scholarships to spend five weeks working with the charity Justice Defenders in Ugandan prisons.  One of the two, Wayne, reflects in conversation on what he gained by the experience 

Why did you apply to go to Uganda?

The opportunity immediately spoke to me – to my passions, and to my personal and professional experiences. I was about to graduate in my BA (Hons) degree in Youth Work and Community Development. My own experiences of the criminal justice system as a whole are what motivate me. Having the chance to experience how it operates in Uganda seemed too good to miss.

As I have become more reflective about my own adverse childhood experiences that resulted in abandonment, helplessness, homelessness, drug addiction and imprisonment, I have been questioning what my next steps in life should be, how can I use my lived experienced and the academic knowledge I have gained to make a real difference in the world? This informed my wish to go to Uganda.

What were you expecting to find there?

I didn’t really know. I was aware of where Uganda currently is economically, and that it was going to be a culture shock in comparison to conditions in prisons in the UK.

How was it different from what you were expecting?

Seeing something with your own eyes can be difficult to process. It was clear that there is a lot of need there. It could leave me feeling overwhelmed and helpless over where to begin, or what to do to support those going through a system that gives them such limited support upon release. It just places them back in the cycle of fighting to survive. It was hard to witness.

What was it like going into a Ugandan prison?

Thanks to Justice Defenders, we were welcomed by the prison staff but, once inside, it quickly became daunting. It was overcrowded and there were limited opportunities for education or work as part of rehabilitation. That was having an adverse effect on the prisoners’ physical and psychological wellbeing.

One of the main things that struck me was that there were a lot of officers who genuinely wanted to help those in prison. There was almost a camaraderie between prisoners and staff. They all seemed to understand that people were often committing crimes just to survive. Many prisoners had been unable to defend themselves in court, or didn’t have the means. They did not know how to challenge the criminal justice system, or even how the process worked.

What did you get involved in there?

In the prisons there were opportunities for us to meet prisoners and share our own lived experiences and encourage them that none of us are defined by our past. This was particularly challenging in a completely different culture with often extreme barriers and no obligation on the government for support on release such as housing or a benefit system. Among the topics we discussed were preparing for re-integration into community, anger management and drug awareness. We shared tools to help with dealing with these issues. These conversations created a safe space for the prisoners to open up and be truly heard.

Did you feel you made a connection with those you met in the prison?

It is difficult to build connections in short doses as we visited multiple prisons. One of the main ways was by sharing personal stories and vulnerabilities so as to build connection through the emotions we have all experienced.

How was it working with Justice Defenders?

All of those I encountered made me feel welcome and looked after. I built some meaningful friendships that I will continue to build on.

What did you gain by going to Uganda?

It has opened my eyes to the fact that, although we have our own challenges within our country, we are extremely fortunate in comparison to others around the world. We should remember and appreciate that. It has helped me identify more clearly  that I want to be involved in social change/justice and that we are not limited to just our own community to do that. There are people in the world who need support and help and we are blessed here, able to go and make a real difference in others’ lives.

 

Our travelling scholarships are supported by the Henry Oldfield Trust. We will be sending two more scholars to Uganda in the summer of 2023.  Any past or present scholars interested in applying should contact our Employability Manager, Abi Andrews

 

Reforming probation from the inside

Author: | 20 Sep 2022

In May, we shared the news that a Longford scholar had gone full-circle, moving from prisoner to probation service officer.  His experience is proof that doors can open in unexpected places and offer surprising opportunities. 

That same scholar, Lawrence, has written for Longford Blog about his inspirational journey…

I recently enjoyed a ‘catch-up’ with some serving prisoners for a lengthy conversation about disclosing criminal records. In an attempt to inspire optimism, I talked to them about my own career opportunities and the positive experiences I’d had with employers who were prepared to overlook my prison experience and conviction.

The most recent employer to do this was none other than the probation service. Yes, that’s right, after two years in prison and a chunk of time on probation, I, with a First-Class Honours degree, am now employed as a probation service officer.

I am as surprised as anyone, as my early experience of probation didn’t get off to the best start.

In prison, my relationship with the probation service started poorly when they sent me some information from a formal risk assessment known as OASys (probation love an acronym). I had been classed as a ‘high risk of re-offending’, contradicting my own belief that I had offended under rare and unusual circumstances, not as part of a routine or lifestyle. Just to explain, I had never actually met the professionals behind this assessment, so the judgement felt unfair and harsh. The assessment also set out that I must refrain from contact with my lifelong best friend, as he had previously been my co-defendant during the legal process. If I did initiate contact, I could be recalled back into custody – a frightening prospect that often caused me vivid nightmares.

From that point, I distrusted probation less and less, seeing them as my enemy who would hinder my progress. My impression was reinforced by fellow prisoners who felt you could never win with probation, so there was no point in trying.

Things got worse before they got better.

I was convinced my successful future depended on going to university after prison.

For me, I was determined a degree was the key to avoiding life as an unemployed ‘former criminal’ who had disappointed family and friends. Imagine my delight to receive an offer to study for a degree. I felt I was about to get life back on track. And then probation suggested I might have no choice but to refuse the offer due to restrictions and licence conditions.

Any hope I’d had for the future swiftly faded away. I experienced a severe mental breakdown and I partially attributed it to conversations with probation which had drained all my hope. I was angry and blamed probation for my downward spiral, commenting that if I were to re-offend, it would be their fault.

Thankfully, the day of my release was when things started to change.

Wearing a suit, which I’d last worn on my day of sentencing, I made my way to a local probation office, as instructed. A helpful staff member held open a door for me and I walked into a large office, where I was told to sign in and ‘choose a desk’. It quickly became clear that the probation staff had mistaken me for a new member of their team – not a newly released prisoner!

My probation officer later remarked that one day I could maybe work for probation. To be honest, I took that with a pinch of salt. After all, I had been convicted of, and imprisoned for, a serious offence; I wasn’t aware of anybody with such a history becoming a probation officer in this country. I pretty much ruled out the idea from the start.

Things continued to look up with probation.

My probation officer wrote a supportive reference for a university panel hearing which scrutinised my convictions.

She said I would be ‘an asset to their establishment’. Her reference was instrumental in me being confirmed as a student; I think she’d be proud to know I successfully completed my studies with a First as a Longford scholar, after pouring effort, energy and enthusiasm into my degree. Probation also played their part in my academic success. To make studying easier, instead of time-consuming face-to-face appointments, probation permitted less time-consuming telephone appointments.

It’s fair to say that I no longer bear a grudge against probation; quite the opposite.  Professionals working in the probation service, which itself has been through a radical overhaul, regularly go above and beyond to support those sent that way by the courts, and I say this to anybody who is anxious about their upcoming period of supervision.

So here I am – a graduate signed up and working as a probation service officer. I am committed to using my lived experience of the criminal justice system to further reform it from the inside.

In time, I will be able to comment on whether that pledge has been a success or a failure. My colleagues have welcomed me warmly from the outset, and enthusiastically explain the acronyms so common in the service (OASys is just one) – without knowing that as an ex-probationer, I know them all too well!

I feel that my opportunity in the world of probation is, perhaps, an experiment of sorts, but I’m OK with that. I’m ready for the challenge. I encourage anybody reading this article not to write off any job role that seems inaccessible because, in time, situations change. There is always a need for talent, drive, creativity and resilience – qualities that can often be found in surprising places. Scholars and other graduates who have studied in or after prison have these in abundance. I have found a meaningful and fulfilling role and I intend to stay at probation for the long haul.


Find out more here about our new employability scheme for Longford scholars.

 

Facial Recognition Unmasked

Author: | 10 Nov 2020

Face coverings are a fact of life in the pandemic. It is mandatory to wear them in shops, schools and on university campuses. Slowly they’re becoming part of prison life too.

Recently masks have sparked a fresh debate about police surveillance.

Elliot Tyler, a Longford scholar who is a cyber security and forensics student at Portsmouth University has been delving into the controversial policing technology…

For a long time, I have been wary of facial recognition technology – software capable of matching a human face, either from from a digital image or a video frame, against a database of ‘wanted’ faces – used without people’s consent. I moved away from my London birthplace three years ago but returned to the city every so often to meet and have a drink with school friends. It always concerned me that my evening could be brought to a halt at any point by police officers scanning my face and determining I was somebody ‘wanted’, which I most certainly was not, having paid any debt to society that I’d previously owed.

Despite being very familiar with the ways of the police through my work as a police cadet, I did not trust them to exercise their duties impartially, responsibly and fairly. Little did I know that before long a global pandemic would see people hiding their faces, potentially disrupting the captured images.

Broken Images 

In the summer, a document leaked to an American publication outlined the worries of US agencies that face masks, now commonplace due to the COVID-19 pandemic, could ‘break’ facial recognition. The document, released as part of what became known as the ‘BlueLeaks’ hack, emphasised the possibility of ‘violent adversaries’ using protective masks to evade biometric identification algorithms – in other words, donning a mask to cheat identification.

Now that coronavirus has changed the world, and face coverings routinely cover the mouth and nose – key distinguishing features for anyone – the debate has taken on a new dimension. Commentators from both sides of the debate have raised concerns about how the wearing of masks could affect the accuracy of the technology.

To this day, it remains unclear, due to the regular emergence of new, conflicting survey results, whether the general public supports this new policing initiative. Opponents of the technology suggest there is a risk to citizens’ privacy. In a free world, individuals are supposedly allowed a choice when it comes to matters of consent.  However sceptics observe that permission can be simply non-existent when it comes to facial recognition. And anyway, importantly, those accused of crimes still have rights. Supporters claim if you go about your daily life in a law-abiding way, you have nothing to fear and everything to gain from effective identification to keep our streets safer.

What the experts say

I took it upon myself to consult three facial recognition experts with different perspectives on this hotly debated policing technique. First up, Chief Superintendent Paul Griffiths, the President of the Superintendents’ Association.

The public needs to be kept safe,’ Griffiths said to me firmly. ‘And that is achieved using CCTV, ANPR (number plate recognition), speed cameras, and other surveillance technologies.’

Our conversation continued with me citing US academics, who claim that effective facial recognition technology can prevent false arrests by quickly and accurately identifying faces.

It certainly isn’t the only method we rely on.’ He was keen not to be too gung-ho. ‘Data involves responsibility,’ I was told. ‘We need to be satisfied that the use of any data can support the police in their goals.’

The list of benefits from effective use of facial recognition, according to Griffiths, are early detection of ‘wanted’ individuals, allowing the efficient scrambling of police resources so officers can secure themselves and the public, possibly saving lives. Police officers can, therefore, spend their time maintaining order on the streets instead of searching aimlessly for suspects. It was explained to me that developments in technology should be embraced by police forces, but only where its use is necessary and proportionate. Police will operate with scrutiny, accountability and oversight when using personal data, Griffiths emphasised.

Lord Blair, Longford Lecture 2019

As a brief side note, in November 2019, at the annual Longford Lecture, I paid close attention to a delivery by Lord Ian Blair, former Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police from 2005 to 2008. Lord Blair explored the topic of ‘Where Next for Policing and Criminal Justice’. Concerned about a ‘tattered’ justice system, he promoted the wider roll-out of body worn cameras for future effective and consensual policing. Yet, surprisingly, he neglected to mention the ever-emerging matter of authorities’ use of facial recognition technology. The omission still intrigues me – but that’s one for another time.

Back to my second expert in this fraught field. Richard Lewis, recently retired Deputy Chief Constable of South Wales Police held a similar view to Griffiths. ‘Facial recognition can be a powerful technology for crime detection and prevention,’ he told me, adding, ‘when used appropriately.’

South Wales Police were this summer subject to legal action, brought by a father of two, Ed Bridges, who objected to his image being captured on a lunch break in Cardiff City Centre and again at a peaceful protest. With the support of the campaign group Liberty, the Court of Appeal found that the specific uses of facial recognition were unlawful.

But the Court also found its use was a ‘proportionate’ interference with human rights, as the benefits outweighed the impact on Bridges.

After the ruling, South Wales Police, who have used this type of identification method at big sporting fixtures, concerts, and other large events since 2017, said they could work with the ruling. A ‘factsheet’ produced by South Wales Police, which was sent to me before the Court decision, shows that in 2019, facial recognition technology resulted in twenty-two arrests and disposals at Welsh music and sporting events. It also rebuts common concerns about gender or racial bias within the technology. Typically, black men are thought to be disproportionately picked out.

The future of the surveillance business

Whatever the effect of face masks on the camera technology, I expect civil liberty campaigners will continue to voice their concerns about the premise of this policing technology. London’s Metropolitan Police is said to be the largest police force outside of China to use facial recognition, dubbed an ‘authoritarian mass surveillance tool’ by Big Brother Watch. Their spokesperson told me that public spaces are being turned into biometric surveillance zones, without any clear legal basis or authority, and contrary to the police rationale. They emphasised concerns about biased targeting of people of a certain ethnicity or demographic.

Be under no illusion, surveillance is big business. At the start of the year it was estimated that by 2024, the global facial recognition market would generate £5.5 billion of revenue. Of course, in the new post-COVID world, that may no longer be the case.

So where does this contentious technology head in the policing of tomorrow? In England and Wales, the police’s technology is still in a developmental stage, with three universities currently working with the Home Office to improve recognition accuracy.

This is by no means the end of the debate; in fact, I would say it’s merely the beginning.

 

An Unexpected Opportunity

Author: | 24 Apr 2019

Making the most of an unexpected opportunity, Longford scholar Gareth Evans reflects on his internship with a Police and Crime Commissioner….

 

The chance to do a paid internship at the West Midlands Police and Crime Commissioner’s office in September came late in the day just as I was firming up my summer plans. I didn’t hesitate to jump at the chance. Though, a small part of me worried a policing institution might simply have an ‘ex-con’ in for a few weeks to make the tea. I wouldn’t want to overstate this, but it was a niggle at the back of my mind. I needn’t have given it a second thought.

 

First impressions….

On arrival, I looked around the office in central Birmingham and was asked to decide what I could best help with.  I had been told to expect the organisation to be welcoming and open-minded. I couldn’t have asked for more. As a criminology student, I am determined not only to apply my adverse experiences to academic theory but also to offer positive, real world social value for others. This was my chance.

 

Working together….

Initially, I chose to focus on an ambitious project to improve young offender services, particularly for those in insecure housing after release from prison. To begin with I reviewed the academic literature and local provision.

We know that policies don’t always translate perfectly into services on the ground. We also know that typically those with first-hand experience of policies and their shortcomings, are best placed- but least likely – to be asked for their insights. Basically, I thought it would be a good idea for everyone to work together!

I began to envisage what a more holistic and sustainable intervention could look like. The question was, how could we gain the support of lots of different organisations with their own unique character and purpose? In the process of seeing up-close how social policies are implemented it became clear that each bit of the jigsaw – the NHS, the Crown Prosecution Service and the police- all have their own resource constraints and are driven by often incompatible bureaucratic demands. Regardless of how much people realise things need to change – and everyone I met did- it struck me that breaking out of current practices is not easy.

Beyond scope….

And, so I wrote, in an email:

“…However, the extent of further work needed… I fear, is beyond the scope of my internship.”

But I’m pleased to say the story goes on.

By the end of my four weeks, exceeding expectations for myself, I had devised a housing strategy for young offenders; reviewed and revised the regional Drug Intervention Programme; and contributed to efforts to address gang violence. And what I did matters. For instance, I was delighted when I was then invited to meet the Housing leads for the West Midlands Combined Authority.

My proudest achievement….

However, my proudest achievement from the internship, so far, was involving the real experts, those who from personal experience, know where things feel most difficult. My best memory is of sitting in a meeting with Marie-Claire (of New Leaf C.I.C) an awe-inspiring social entrepreneur who is doing remarkable work to help people make positive changes after prison. The opportunity to make the most of my own and others’ experiences to influence top police commissioning representatives in the West Midlands, felt empowering. It reinforced what is possible when the right people are in the room listening to each other.

And it doesn’t stop there. A flourishing relationship has begun, where the people who ultimately make the decisions about how to address some of our most troubling social concerns have the right information. At the same time, those of us who have lived in, through and been the cause of these issues now have a place in the room.

As a Longford scholar coming towards the final few months of my degree, I hope I have helped honour the trust and the opportunity they and the Police and Crime Commissioner’s Office offered me. I continue to talk with my now friends in Birmingham and am grateful for the opportunity. The work continues and new relationships are being fostered between those who deliver services and those who have direct experience of them.

Hopefully, my placement is a sign of a wider culture change.

Grabbing the opportunity….

And finally, to anyone offered an opportunity like this, I say grab it. It’s an adventure with unexpected opportunities and friendships. You won’t regret it.