It took 16 years but I’ve completed my law degree

Author: | 6 May 2026

As he is opening his results after finally completing his law degree, our scholar Andrew Morris (pictured left at Longford Lecture with Mandy Baldry) takes a moment to look back on the barriers put in his path, how he found the resilience to overcome them, those who sustained him, and what it means to him now to be a university graduate

Today I received my final result in a Law degree that has taken me 16 years to complete.  One of the first things I want to do is to say publicly a massive, heartfelt thanks to the Longford Trust for sticking with me.  Let me explain. In custody, for some reason, when you study at degree level, you have to do it over six- years, not the usual three that apply outside in the wider world. So, when I began studying with the Open University in 2010, I thought I would be okay, that I would have time. The prison system had other ideas.

After nine months of applications through the prison, I was finally approved to study but, a few weeks later, I got ghosted from one establishment to another with no reasoning and definitely no warning. I had to begin the process all over again. My next challenge, access to a computer, was beyond difficult and inconsistent. What I wanted, I should explain, was a not computer connected to the internet – that is not allowed at all in prisons – but rather just one that allowed me to type assignments and see the word count. At times I had to complete work by hand and literally hope for the best.

I achieved my first two modules (out of the six needed for an OU degree) but decided that study was no longer for me. The prison system appeared to make access more difficult than I felt that it reasonably should be. During this time, I wrote to the Longford Trust for help post-release and was awarded a scholarship. However, a move back to closed conditions soon put a halt to that. I very nearly gave up completely.

People who change people

One of the things that resonates with me is something that Gethin Jones of Unlocking Potential often says. ‘It is not the system that changes people, it is people within the system’. For me one of those people was Mandy Baldry, who worked in education in HMP Coldingley, and who encouraged me (and many others) not to abandon my education.

Following my release, I went back to the Longford Trust to see if the support that they had offered was still there. To my amazement, it was. Part of me wanted them to say no, so that I had an excuse not to carry on! In 2022, more than a decade after I first began on the path to study, I picked up where I left off once released and continued working towards my degree. Initially I had some difficulty with accessing online material – the OU took a little while to recognise that I was no longer studying from a secure environment – but once I managed to resolve the issue, I was away.

I was paired by the Longford Trust with Neil Cavanah as my mentor. He had done a law degree. We have met almost weekly for the past four years. He has been incredibly supportive. At one point I felt like I might take a break, but instead I was persuaded to carry on, studying alongside full time work and now, finally, I have my 2:1 degree.

Looking forward and back

I am grateful to the Longford Trust – Peter Stanford, Tom Pakenham and to all of the staff and trustees – as well as to Mandy Baldry and those individuals within the system who try to make it better for those passing through it. I am now making plans for the future, talking to the Solicitors Regulation Authority, who must pass anyone who has a criminal conviction before they can join the legal profession, as well as continuing with my work with the New Wave Trust. But just at this point in time I want to take a moment to pause, reflect and pay homage to the late great Rudy Narayan, barrister and civil rights activist, who told me many years ago, that I should do a law degree. I also salute the late, great Darcus Howe, writer, broadcaster and racial justice campaigner, who encouraged me on my journey.

Thank you all for guiding me to the person I am today.

Andrew received a Patrick Pakenham Award from the Longford Trust in 2022 to continue with his law degree.  If you have spent time in prison, and would like to study law at university, contact Clare.

 

Fedor Bryant-Dantes: a fellow scholar’s tribute

Author: | 29 Apr 2026

Today, Thursday 30 April, the funeral takes place in Hastings of our Longford Scholar Fedor Bryant-Dantes, who died suddenly at Easter, just eight days after being released from prison. He was on the cusp of a new life with his fiance Jacqui, soon to complete his degree, having just won a prize for his business plan from Project ReMake. As his family and friends gather to mourn and celebrate his life  – including his Longford Trust mentor, Alistair Davies –  we publish this tribute  by his friend and fellow Longford Scholar Cathy McGuinness. You can  read his brother David’s tribute here

They gave you back
Too late.

That is where all thought begins
and where it breaks:
after years of incarceration,
after all that waiting,
all that endurance,
all that life held in suspension,
You stepped back into freedom.

And within days,
The world had lost you.

There is no soft way
to carry that truth.
No careful phrase
that can make it sit gently.
A man survives years in prison,
comes through all that confinement,
all that effort,
all that inner labour
of trying not to be reduced
by the place that holds him,

and then dies…..
just as life is opening.

What are we to call that?
If not cruel?
What are we to call it?
If not, an injustice
too deep for ordinary language?

Systems know how to count.
They count years,
conditions,
risk,
time served.
They count what can be recorded,
measured,
filed away.

But they do not count well
what prison takes.
What it leaves behind
in the body,
in the mind,
in the hidden rooms of a person.
They do not count
the cost of surviving.
And they do not know how to answer
for a freedom
that arrives only briefly,
like light at a door
already closing.

You were a big man,
broad in build,
broad in presence,
a veteran,
a sergeant,
a man shaped by discipline,
danger, and endurance.

You could call yourself
a hard bastard,
And people would believe you.

But those who knew you better
knew that hardness
was never the whole story.

Because there was warmth in you.
And humour.
And intelligence.
A dark wit,
never cruel.
A gift for story.
A way of drawing people in
without effort,
as if something in you
recognised something in them.

You were the sort of man
who made people feel
there was still a way forward.
Not by speeches.
Not by performance.
But by the way you carried yourself,
by the way you treated others,
by the simple fact
that you had known difficulty
and had not let it hollow you out.

That is rare.
Rarer than strength.
Rarer than charm.
To have lived through enough
to harden a person,
and still remain kind.

And kindness was there in you.
Not a sentimental kindness,
but something steadier,
forged.
Compassion with weight behind it.
Patience.
Generosity.
Belief in other people.
A willingness to help them learn,
to help them keep going,
to help them imagine
more for themselves.

You were not standing still.
You were in motion.
Building.
Studying.
Writing.
Redrafting.
Training.
Encouraging others.
Holding yourself to account.
Holding yourself to a standard.

You had chosen growth,
not as an idea,
But as a daily practice.

And that, perhaps,
is what makes this ache so sharply:
You were not merely hoping.
You were becoming.

You were nearing graduation.
You had work ahead of you.
Plans.
Purpose.
A next chapter already taking shape.
The future was no longer abstract.
It was close enough to touch.

So close.

And perhaps that is one reason
this loss feels unbearable,
because after all those years,
after everything prison took,
You had come so near
to the life you had worked for,
the life you had earned.

You were a lighthouse in the dark.
That is how you remain in my mind.
Not because you were perfect,
You were not,
and you knew that better than anyone,
But because you were human
in the fullest sense of the word.
Complex.
Weathered.
Thoughtful.
Deeply alive.
And still able,
despite everything,
to give light to others.

You loved poetry.
That matters to me.
Your love of Idyll matters.

Because it tells its own truth:
that beneath the strength,
beneath the soldier,
beneath the years of prison
and all the armour life had required of you,
there remained sensitivity,
reflection,
an inwardness,
a soul still reaching
towards meaning,
towards beauty,
towards something gentler
than the world had often given back.

My heart breaks too
for Jacqui,
who waited all that time
for you to come home,
only for that homecoming
to be cut so painfully short.

And for your children,
your grandchildren,
your family,
your friends,
and all those whose lives
were warmed by your presence,
There is no arrangement of words
that can make this right.

Only this:
that you were here.
That you mattered.
That the life in you
touched other lives
and changed them.

Only this:
your name,
your voice,
your humour,
your strength,
your humanity,
still moving through the people
who knew and loved you.

Fedor,
you should have had longer.

And if there is peace now,
let it be the kind
that was denied you here,
open,
unmeasured,
free of walls,
free of waiting,
free at last.

 

Oxford helped me rebuild and find my place again

Author: | 10 Apr 2026

On leaving prison, Haidar Razzak set himself the goal of a place at Oxford. It proved a bruising and challenging undertaking, but with the support of the Longford Trust he achieved it and, since graduation, has gone forward into a successful career as a business leader and entrepreneur. Here, he urges others in the same situation ‘don’t assume Oxford is closed to you because of your past’.

I was reasonably academic during my A-levels, so I was aware of Oxford and Cambridge and the status they carry. But before I really had the chance to explore that properly, my life went off track and I ended up in prison. At that point, I felt like I’d completely derailed what I thought my future was going to be. When I came out in my late 20s, I believed that period of my life was going to define everything that came after it.

I was certain people wouldn’t look past it. So, I made a decision. If I was going to change how people saw me, I needed to do something that carried real weight in a positive direction. That’s what led me, in my late 20s, to apply to Harris Manchester College at Oxford to study maths and philosophy. I chose it because it’s a college for mature students, so I thought they’d be more open to people who hadn’t followed a conventional path, including someone like me.

Navigating the obstacles in my path

Harris Manchester were great. They were open, understanding, and genuinely supportive. The issue came later, when my application was pooled to another college because the maths side of the degree would need to be taken elsewhere. On the UCAS form, I was only asked to declare unspent convictions. Unsure what that meant, I checked with my probation officer and was advised that I didn’t need to declare anything. But the college my application had been pooled to later became aware of my record and refused me a place. That caused the whole thing to fall through.

By that point I’d already been awarded a Longford Scholarship, and the Trust quite reasonably suggested I consider other top universities. But I was set on Oxford, so I reapplied, this time to Mansfield College, and after a bit of back-and-forth, I was offered a place. Once I was there, the reality was very different from what I’d expected. Most tutors and students, whether they knew about my background or not, were welcoming and treated me normally. Of course, there were a few exceptions, but nothing I wasn’t prepared for.

At the start, especially in first term, there was a lot of curiosity. It’s a small college, and people had looked me up, so I ended up having a lot of conversations about my past. It wasn’t always comfortable, but it settled down pretty quickly. Oxford has a way of making sure everyone’s attention ends up where it should be, on the work.

‘Fairly or not, people make assumptions when they see Oxford on your CV’

I probably would have enjoyed other universities too, but the reason I stuck with Oxford is simple. It carries weight. Fairly or not, people make assumptions when they see it on your CV. In my case, it helped shift how people saw me. It opened doors and gave me opportunities I might not have had otherwise. Ten years on, I run my own fitness business across two sites in London, with a third on the way. Looking back, the process of getting into Oxford probably taught me more than the degree itself in some ways, especially how to deal with setbacks and rejection. That’s something I’ve used a lot in business.

It also showed me that I could rebuild and find my place again. I even met my wife there. If I was speaking to someone with a similar background thinking about university, I’d say this: there are lots of good options out there, and Oxford isn’t the only path. But if you’re considering it, don’t assume it’s closed to you because of your past. It’s not easy. Getting in takes hard work, persistence, and sacrifice. Once you’re there, it’s demanding and will challenge you. But the path does exist, and for those who choose to take it, it can be a rewarding one.

Professor Beth Breeze OBE adds: I am so pleased that Haider is sharing his experience of applying to, and studying at, Oxford. As the current Principal of Harris Manchester, Oxford’s only college that is exclusively focused on mature students, I am glad to add my voice to his and encourage others with a similar background to apply. We exist to ensure that the world’s best higher education is accessible to everyone who has the talent and desire to seize this opportunity. We value having a diverse cohort of students and are proud to be working with the Longford Trust to make this a reality.

For further information: contact Clare, our scholarship manager. Or to join the prospective student mailing list, have a real or virtual tour, and read some of student stories, go to Harris Manchester’s website here or email admissions@hmc.ox.ac.uk

‘What defined him was his determination to become a better man’

Author: | 8 Apr 2026

Over Easter, our 2025 Longford Scholar Fedor Bryant-Dantes died at the age of 48. Here his older brother, David Pentek, himself a past Longford Scholar, writes of how hard Fedor had worked  to build a new life through higher education, taking every chance and helping others to do the same. He was within touching distance of achieving his goals.

My younger brother Fedor passed away suddenly on Easter Saturday from a heart attack, with his fiancée, Jacqui, at his side. His death has left a deep void in the lives of all of us who knew and loved him. Fedor — or ‘Ween’, as I knew him — was a charismatic, intelligent and deeply likeable man with a natural warmth that drew people to him. He had a dark sense of humour that was never offensive, an incredible gift for storytelling, and an ability to connect with people from all walks of life. He was inspirational without trying to be. Simply by the way he lived and treated others, he gave others hope for the future.

As well as Jacqui, he leaves behind his three children Lily, Ellie and Alfie, his grandchildren Athena and Otto, and our sister Claire. He wasn’t always a perfect man, and he would be the first to admit that he had made mistakes, but what defined him was his determination to grow, to learn, and each day to become a better man.

Fedor had served in The Queen’s Royal Hussars, rising to the rank of Sergeant. After leaving the army he worked in close protection, serving in places including Afghanistan, demonstrating courage, resilience and calm strength in challenging environments. Those qualities stayed with him throughout his life. In 2023, he became the second Longford Scholar in our family, pouring his energy into education and personal development. At the time of his death, he was just two months away from graduating in Creative Writing at Portsmouth University. Throughout his time there, starting attending when on day-release from Open prison, and continuing when he was released just eight days before his death, he showed exemplary discipline and purpose: up early each morning, starting his day with routines that reflected his mindset of self-improvement, training regularly, following strict plans, and encouraging others at the gym and university alike. He would spend his days writing drafts and refining his assignments. His tutors recognised his talent, and he was on track to achieve a distinction. Beyond university, he took on mentoring and coaching roles, helping others with Maths and English, particularly during his time supporting education in prison. He did so with compassion, patience and genuine belief in the potential of those he helped.

He was really thriving as a Longford Scholar, and had built a strong relationship with his Longford Trust mentor, Alistair, a retired English lecturer, whose support he celebrated in a blog on the trust’s website back in February, as a ‘quietly affirming’ presence in his life. ‘He reminds me, by example rather than instruction, that wisdom shouldn’t crowd a room. Alistair gives me space to breathe, to think – and, I hope, in time – to offer that same space to others. For his kindness, wisdom, and friendship, I am deeply grateful.’

Recently Fedor won a Dragons’ Den-style pitch with Project ReMake, one of the Longford Trust’s partner organisations, after he presented to their judges his plans to help people express themselves through writing. His future was looking so bright. He had even secured a new job and was due to attend his induction meeting after Easter. He shared with me how excited he was about the opening of this next chapter, about his living life going forward with purpose and optimism. Tragically, it was not to be, but he leaves behind a legacy of resilience, compassion and hope. He will be deeply missed.

We are recruiting for a new role

Author: | 26 Mar 2026

As the Longford Trust develops, attracting larger number of scholarship applications each year, making more new awards each summer, seeing numbers of scholars working with us growing, we are creating a new senior role at this exciting time for the charity. 

Have a read, and if you think it might be something that appeals to you, something moreover where your work experience, your life experience and your commitment to prison reform could be channeled, then do please consider applying. 

The new vacancy is for an Operations’ Director

  • A 3 day-a-week role;
  • Reporting to the Director and working as part of the Senior Management Team of the trust, within an overall cohort of eight, all part-time posts;
  • Paid pro-rata of £50-55,000 depending on experience via PAYE with pensions contributions;
  • The trust has no physical office, so team members work remotely, with flexible hours, but all team members work Tuesdays. There are regular face-to-face team meetings, as well as one-to-ones, so easy access to London an advantage.

The responsibilities of this senior post are as follows:

  • Leadership role in following areas: strategy, developing and implementing the 10-Year-Plan; HR; our Frank Awards programme; Communications and Marketing, systems, digital and AI.
  • Working with the Director on fund-raising and finance, growing and nurturing our core partnerships;
  • Working with other SMT members when needed in delivering their specific programme areas.

And this is the sort of person we are looking for:

Essential qualities you need to be able to demonstrate:

  • commitment to prison reform, with an understanding of the prison system and the barriers it creates for those leaving prison (lived experience of the prison or the criminal justice system is valued);
  • senior management background either in a charitable organisation or in a relevant area;
  • proven leadership skills and ability to represent the trust in public settings;
  • track record in expressing yourself clearly and persuasively in writing;
  • strong interpersonal skills in regard of team-working, team-building and upholding the values of the trust;
  • up-to-date financial and digital literacy.

Our values

Taking our cue from Frank Longford, after whom the trust is named, our values shape every aspect of our work, including all relationships between team members, trustees, scholarship award-holders, our volunteer trained mentors and our employability partners. These values include:

  • A firm belief in the power of education to change lives;
  • A passion for second chances for those with lived experience of prison;
  • A thorough-going can-do, practical approach that is driven by a desire to level the playing field for those who have been to prison and are committed to building new lives;
  • A commitment to integration of all regardless of background and circumstances. We assume the best, start from the positive, are curious, are always ready to learn, and reject fixed mindsets.

Application process

Apply to office@longfordtrust.org, with an up-to-date CV and accompanying letter explaining:

  • how you fit our job specification;
  • why you want to work with the Longford Trust;
  • and what you will bring to it.

Closing date noon on Friday May 1. Interviews will be in person in the second week of May.

 

‘Working with the police wasn’t something I imagined I’d do’

Author: | 7 Jan 2026

Gaining a degree is a mighty achievement. Taking that next step into graduate work is another. Our scholar Alicia has just completed a month-long, paid placement with the West Midlands Police and Crime Commissioner’s Office, organised through our Employability project. Here she reflects on what that experience has given her above and beyond her expectations.

During my placement, I worked on a project to make more trauma-informed the rooms in police stations where witnesses and victims are interviewed. The focus was on creating safer, more supportive spaces where victims of serious crimes would feel more at ease and willing to discuss often distressing and overwhelming matters with police officers. There were various aspects of the spaces urgently in need of an overhaul: to name a few, the colour scheme; the furnishings; the lighting; the temperature control; and the signage. Changing these items, I believed, would really get the spaces where they needed to be fit for purpose.

‘It helped me rebuild trust, both in myself and in the systems around me’

Working with the police had never been something I imagined myself doing, so the prospect felt daunting. I was unaware of what to expect, or how challenging it would be. I worried that I wouldn’t feel part of the team. And I hadn’t ever thought I would be given such an opportunity, particularly given my past experiences and the reality of having a criminal record.

Disclosure had always felt like a barrier, something I approached with fear and hesitation. However, this placement completely shifted my perspective. Over time, it helped me rebuild trust, both in myself and in the systems around me. It showed me that meaningful relationships between the police and people with lived experience of the criminal justice system can be restored, that reform, trust and opportunity can genuinely coexist. I gained confidence in disclosing my background and no longer seeing it as something that defines or limits me.

‘I was going outside my comfort zone’

Throughout the placement, the support I received was invaluable. Colleagues from varying departments consistently provided ongoing encouragement and guidance, helping me navigate both professional and personal challenges along the way. These included delving into subjects that were completely unknown to me, such as when researching colour theory. It was a steep learning curve.

Colour theory, I now know, is the study of how different colours influence human emotions, perceptions, and behaviour. It is based on the psychological responses colours can evoke, such as calm, energy, trust, or comfort, and how these responses can be intentionally used to shape mood, communicate meaning, and promote positive emotional experiences.

Another challenge was having to arrange meetings where I was discussing issues involved in my research with outside foundations and experts. The oral presentation exams I had done as part of my law course at university did give me some confidence in such situations, but again I was going outside my comfort zone.

One of my proudest moments came when I presented my research findings to the senior leadership, including the Chief Executive and the Crime Commissioner himself. That was something I never thought I would be given the opportunity to do – to have my findings genuinely valued by them and the rest of the commissioner’s team

‘I am definitely going to be more inclined to put forward my ideas’

As an intern I learnt about being part of a working environment, being part of a team, and a variety of research techniques. I have gained a lot of confidence as a result in my own ideas and abilities. The feedback I received solidified for me that I do not need to question myself as much as I did before. Moving forward I am definitely going to be more inclined to put forward my ideas.

Now I am looking forward to hearing what changes are put in place as a result of my work. I’d love to see that the spaces I worked on have been improved, and that the people using those spaces are feeling the benefit of something I played a part in creating. It would make me immensely proud.

The experience has also had tangible impacts on my future. Since completing my time with the West Midlands Police and Crime Commissioner’s Office, I have secured three job interviews, with my placement there playing a key role in strengthening my CV. It has built my confidence, developed my skills. That is what is possible when trust and opportunity are extended.

Roxanne Foster, our Employability Manager, who helped set up the placement, adds: ‘Alicia’s experience goes to the heart of what employability means to me. It’s not just about CVs, interviews, or job outcomes, important as those things are, but about creating opportunities that genuinely shift how people see themselves and what they believe is possible. When the opportunity arose to work on a research placement with Simon Foster, the West Midlands Police and Crime Commissioner and his team, our intention was always twofold, to contribute to important work around trauma-aware practice, and to create a space where lived experience was not just acknowledged but valued. What made this placement particularly powerful was the focus on trust, offering a supported environment where honest conversations could take place and where growth, learning and confidence were actively encouraged. We extend our sincere thanks to Simon and his colleagues Lucy Naylor and Andrea Gabbitas.’

Evidence and compassion: what is needed in our post-truth era

Author: | 13 Oct 2025

Listening to Robert Jenrick giving his speech to the Conservative Party Conference as Shadow Justice Secretary and Lord Chancellor, our law scholar Chris Walters was alarmed by how many of our leaders are currently going down the road of preferring feelings to facts.

I clutched my book in one hand and my prison ID in the other as I was escorted to the HMP Wandsworth book club on an evening in 2018. The book was Post-Truth by Lee McIntyre. It’s about the increasing trend of people believing their feelings rather than the evidence. I was reminded of it while listening to Robert Jenrick’s recent address to his party’s annual conference. It’s that clear some people have continued on that downward slope, seemingly abandoning all reason.

Jenrick delivered a speech which was equal parts cringeworthy comedy routine and dystopian nightmare. No, it isn’t accurate to say (as he did) that an Albanian man avoided deportation from this country because his child doesn’t like Albanian chicken nuggets. The case in question is complex, and concerns the welfare of a child who may have additional needs. The child’s dietary preferences were just one aspect and the judge set aside the deportation so more information could be gathered. Moreover, the decision was subsequently overturned by the Upper Tribunal, which makes Jenrick’s point all the more baseless.

What really goes on in an asylum hearing

I’ve been to an asylum hearing. They are unfairly adversarial. Despite what the media would have us believe, succeeding in an asylum claim is a difficult process. Most people seeking asylum receive less than £50 a week and basic accommodation, while trying to recover from traumatic experiences, and build a strong legal case.

The representative of the Crown, the Home Office Presenting Officer (HOPO), is often not a qualified solicitor and, while they are subject to an internal code of conduct, they are not held to the same high professional standards as solicitors.  Anthropologist John Campbell writes: ‘Indeed HOPOs are not bound by a professional code of conduct which means that, regardless of what is stated in Home Office professional standards guidelines, they are not legally required to assist the court to achieve a fair decision.’

HOPOs have often been criticised for being unnecessarily adversarial. This inequality of arms, coupled with the hostile environment introduced by Theresa May, means the demonisation of asylum seekers is set above facts, evidence, and compassion.

The vital principle of an independent judiciary

Jenrick also enlisted the help of a prop wig and zero evidence to lambast ‘activist judges’. Patricia Thom, President of the Law Society of Scotland, called his words ‘dangerous and unacceptable’, going on to say: ‘It is notable that Mr Jenrick has provided no legal basis for questioning the validity of judicial decisions with which he does not agree.’

As a qualified solicitor himself, you would expect Robert Jenrick to have more respect for evidence and the independence of the judiciary. Given his words, I don’t imagine he would pass the class I study about ‘Professional Skills and Responsibility’.

His comments about ‘two-tier justice’ were more than misleading. They are unconstitutional. Although we don’t have a single written piece of paper that makes up our constitution, the UK does have one spread across statute, common law, conventions, and tradition. One of the cornerstone conventions of our constitution is that ministers must not criticise the individual decisions of judges. This is part of the wider separation of powers; it helps ensure no branch of government wields too much power.

If you want to see the result of too much executive power, take a glance across the pond to Donald Trump’s America: masked and unidentified law enforcement agents snatching people as they got about their business; ‘Alligator Alcatraz’, where hundreds of people have gone missing; and soldiers deployed to the streets against civilians. It’s a campaign driven by misinformation and denigration of the rule of law; the courts can’t even keep up. Is this the brand of authoritarianism that Jenrick, Farage, and their ilk would have here? We must reject it with every ounce of our being.

What ‘traditional values’ truly means

I wish that, in the midst of this, we could look to Labour for support but, if anything, they seem to be courting these abhorrent views. Last month they suspended refugee family-reunion applications. That means that people who have already had their asylum claim accepted cannot be reunited with their wives, husbands or children. Shabana Mahmood, the Home Secretary, has promised to ramp up deportations, which plays right into this false narrative of immigrants being the enemy.

Any flag-waving Christian patriots would do well to remember that Jesus was a refugee. If they open the Bible, they will find any number of passages teaching compassion for asylum seekers, refugees, and immigrants. My favourite is Matthew 25:36-40: ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. […] Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did to me.’

If we genuinely want a return to our traditional values, how about the values of compassion and kindness? We stand on the precipice of a cliff. Below is hate, authoritarianism, and lies which deserve our vigorous opposition.

It’s time to reject that path. Our country’s future should be driven by law and policy which is evidence-led and compassionate, and which respects the independence of the judiciary.

Chris is a Longford Scholar studying the Diploma in Professional Legal Practice at the University of Edinburgh. He is also the Longford Trust’s fundraising manager and a trustee at the Human Rights Consortium Scotland.

 

 

 

A good news story for prison education – and what it could be…

Author: | 9 Jun 2025

With prison education under strain, our Ambassador, journalist David Shipley, finds a new report ‘incredibly encouraging’ on the effectiveness of the in-cell education channel Way2Learn, part of WayOut TV that operates in half of all prisons

Prison education is a strange beast. Everyone seems to recognise how important it is, with research by the Ministry of Justice in 2018 having found thatpeople who had participated in education whilst in prisons were significantly less likely to reoffend within 12 months of release. Part of this may be because people who leave prison with good literacy and numeracy are more likely to find, and keep a job after release. We know, of course, that being in work is one of the most significant factors reducing someone’s likelihood of reoffending. So the Ministry of Justice, and the Prison Service, want education in prisons to be widely-available and of good quality.

Unfortunately it often falls short. Ofsted, the education standards’ body responsible for inspecting education in prisons and young offenders institutions, ‘have long been concerned about the standards of education in our prisons’.

Partly, this is due to limited budgets and the resultant challenges around hiring good teachers to work in prisons. But the environment itself is a barrier to education. Our jails are becoming less safe, with assaults up 14 per cent in the last annual figures, and serious assaults up 13 per cent. Dangerous, crowded prisons make learning hard. If a prisoner is concerned about their physical safety, they may find it almost impossible to concentrate in a lesson. Those who are worried about their safety travelling from cell to classroom may decide to stay ‘banged-up’ and avoid the risk of education entirely.

Barrier of embarrassment and shame

Another barrier to education can be shame. Around two-thirds of prisoners having literacy skills below that expected of an 11-year-old, and many dropped-out or were excluded from the education system. As a result, and unsurprisingly, they find the thought of sitting in a classroom and having their lack of education made public embarrassing and shameful. This fear alone can deter many prisoners from participating in education.

In order to address these barriers, WayOutTV created Way2Learn a decade ago. This service offers 18 scheduled courses, covering everything from music and creative writing to food hygiene and construction. There are also courses on broader skills, like goal-setting and running a business. Prisoners participate by watching the course segments and then completing and submitting worksheets to Way2Learn, where they are marked. Results got towards qualifications awarded by UWE.

‘An avenue of learning’

Now academics from UWE have conducted an impact evaluation of Way2Learn. What they’ve found is incredibly encouraging. Prison staff, prison governors and former Way2Learn students all have very positive views on the service. Way2Learn gives prisoners a sense of purpose, improving their mental health, while also developing useful skills. It also provides ‘an avenue of learning for…men who struggle to engage with more mainstream or traditional learning’.

The report  is a fascinating and encouraging document. After reading it I reflected that Way2Learn shows what the future of much prison education could be. The Prison Service is determined to increase the use of technology in our jails. More and more prisons are rolling-out in-cell ‘laptops’, which inmates can use to contact staff, email friends and family and perform prison ‘life-admin’ tasks (but not go on the internet).

Way2Learn could and should be offered on these systems, allowing prisoners to study a wide range of subjects in their cells, and removing the need for paper forms. I do hope that Prisons’ Minister James Timpson reads this evaluation . It’s clear that the prison service could do much more by working constructively with Way2Learn.

Read our scholars’ stories

What funding is available for people with convictions or in prison to study for a degree? See our Scholarships page.

Face of older woman, Audrey Edwards

Audrey Edwards (1934-2025): the first Longford Prize winner

Author: | 19 Jan 2025

In 2002 the first-ever recipient of our Longford Prize was Audrey Edwards, whose campaign with her husband Paul to improve mental health provision in prisons was prompted by the death in jail of their son. The trust’s director, Peter Stanford, and others reflect on what an impact she made on them and the prison system.

Audrey Edwards was a remarkably-effective campaigner who stuck in the memory, but also an unlikely one, as her husband Paul acknowledges.  Audrey was, Paul says, ‘not one to fight on the barricades. By nature she was a sensitive and reserved individual.’  Yet together they sustained a decade-long battle following the death in Chelmsford Prison of their 30-year-old son, Christopher. They wanted to see better and better-informed treatment for those in jail with mental illness. Or, better still, for them not to be held in prisons.

Christopher was mentally-ill when he was detained for breach of the peace in November 1994. At Chelmsford, he was put in a cell with a paranoid schizophrenic who murdered him.  The Edwards’ brave and tenacious fight was to hold to account the public bodies who had contributed to their son’s death, and to make sure that no other parents would suffer the same appalling loss in such avoidable circumstances as they had.

The courage to move forward from personal tragedy

In 2002, our judging panel on which I sat offered this citation when awarding Audrey the Longford Prize. ‘Audrey and her husband Paul began a quest to find out what happened to their son that has developed into a campaign to improve mental health care for offenders.  The judges were greatly impressed by the courage with which Audrey Edwards had moved forward from personal tragedy to focus public attention on mental health and prisons.’

Remembering her today, another member of that panel, Juliet Lyon CBE, the long-serving director of our partner organisation, the Prison Reform Trust, writes: ‘it takes such courage and generosity of spirit to turn a terrible tragedy into something which could save the lives of others. Audrey’s work with Paul inspired some important changes in prisons from the introduction of basic mental health training for prison staff to assessment of people’s mental health prior to cell-sharing. Sadly the misuse of prison as a place of safety for people who are mentally ill continues to this day.’

David versus Goliath

Audrey received her award on stage in November 2002 from our first Longford Lecturer, Cherie Booth, celebrated human rights lawyer who was also the wife of Prime Minister, Tony Blair.  In the same year, Audrey published a memoir, No Truth, No Justice, which described what she characterised as a David versus Goliath struggle to get the police, the NHS and the prison service to address the failures that had led to Christopher’s death.

And in what proved a significant year in her battle, 2002 also saw a case the couple had taken to the European Court of Human Rights upheld. It ruled that Christopher’s right to life had been denied by his treatment after his arrest. Their campaign continued in the years that followed and they worked closely with Martin Narey who ran the Prison Service from 1998 to 2005. He was determined like them to improve treatment of those with mental illness in prisons and, to that end, commissioned a film featuring Audrey which was shown to all new prison officers during their training.

Disappointingly, it ceased to be used after Narey moved on, but the Edwards’ work did not stop, though Paul’s diagnosis with cancer saw it scaled back. They would comfort and advise other families who found themselves in the same dreadful circumstances that they had experienced.

‘Her strength and determination,’ says Paul, who survives Audrey along with their daughter Clare, ‘came from a mother’s devotion to her son, and from her Christian faith. She really believed that we must all try and do good in this world.’  Her example will live on. RIP

Running up that hill

Author: | 19 Nov 2024

As part of our Employability programme, we offer travelling scholarships to our award holders to enable them to see the world and build their skills and CVs.  This autumn two scholars attended the ‘Haven for Stories’ writers’ retreat in Umbria.  Here, one of them, Tim Kerr reflects on what he discovered.

The sun shone brightly on our final day in Umbria, piercing the Ryanair windows on the Saturday morning flight. It had rained most of the week of course, but I still squeezed in runs up and down the deserted Umbrian paths, looking over valleys bathed in mist and fog, occasional castle brick or terracotta roof poking through. The roaring wood fires and dark espressos on my return to Villa Pia would warm me back up, but the mist on the landscape would remain, symbolic of my state of writing.

I used to write more, in times where my experiences seemed more relevant, with something new to be unearthed by the process. I wrote when I was in prison. I wrote when I was released from prison. I wrote traipsing between the probation office and the DWP. Then, later on, as life settled, writing took a backseat to increasing work and further study. But like backseat drivers do, it nagged, and prompted me to apply to go on this writing retreat advertised in the Longford Trust’s Bulletin. It wanted to drown out the other backseat driver, the one who doubts.

Writer’s block

So now, I’m here, the week I’d been looking forward to for months: a retreat, away from work and with a stable internet connection. I thought I’d be free to write thousands of words a day, setting habits to make productivity gurus insist I take breather. But I couldn’t. Sure, I was sleep deprived. Stanstead was grey even under dawn light. But now I was faced with everything I’d wanted to write over the years, and struggled to pluck the most salient idea to commit to paper.

Movement, I’ve found, helps organise thoughts. And as the tutors, Alice, Elise, and Toby, explained on our first night, the writing is usually done in all the spaces where we aren’t scribing or typing. So, during a walk on the second day, through steps and jumps over puddles and branches, I discussed with Toby Bayesian statistics, medical negligence, and also my improbable and surprising life thus far. Ever the story teller, he talked about applying narrative structure to my experiences. We settled on me being arrested as the inciting incident to begin my story.

The feel of the foam mattress

Sat in the library of Villa Pia that evening, overlooking those misty hills, I tried writing about the night I got arrested: the feel of the foam mattress, the noises in the other cells, the thoughts juddering through my mind. But I was just directing words towards a memory I was no longer interested in.

I explained this to Alice in our tutorial the next day. And I came to the realisation that the point of this retreat, ‘Haven for Stories’, was not to write but to discover. Havens offer the protection to be open, and admit my utter boredom in writing about prison and drugs, the stuff I thought others wanted to read. Instead, I vowed to lean into a deep unknown: my father, who died when I was eleven, and who I know so little about. I committed to blogging this journey, as a regular writing practice, with Alice showing me the best platforms to use.

In a workshop the next day with Elise, I delved into my father as a character. Through writing exercises, I put myself in his shoes, and lived his formative years, imagining the things I never got to ask him. In a tutorial later we discussed how to research someone, including researching the places that shaped them. My trips to his birthplace, Glasgow, were mentally booked. Sadly, my knackered imagination was unable to visualise any airline besides Ryanair.

Deep and layered like lasagne

Over the week I was subsumed into Italian villa culture, thanks to Morag Cleland’s excellent staff at Villa Pia. The conversations I had with the other writers on the retreat were deep and layered, like the lasagne we had on Wednesday, which, incidentally, I learned does not have to have a tomato sauce within it. It’s just an arrangement of pasta. You can put what you like in there.

I could delve into the lives of others, and reciprocate, only possible through staying put, not reaching for my phone, persevering through every variety of carbohydrate as I slowly lost my obsession with productivity. Handy, as the sleep deprivation continued, half a tray of tiramisu at 10pm fully reflected by my mediocre Garmin sleep score.

Near the end of the week, I ran up to the highest point in the region. It was so misty I couldn’t see more than a few paces ahead of me. There was no view at the top, just turf churned up by tractor wheels. I ran back down, below the mist, and caught up with Toby again that afternoon. We now had a beginning, a structure, people and places to research. The fog was clearing. A parallel tale of my father and me. I didn’t need good writing habits, I now had motivation.

Reading aloud

On the final night, I read the work I’d developed throughout the week to the group. The other inciting incident in my life, the moment my father died, in 500 or so words. I felt privileged that I had a had an audience, and equally privileged that I could hear and be part of their work, too. Whilst writing is a solitary pursuit, the life that creates it is a team sport. I left Villa Pia with people to keep in touch with, on similar journeys, writing buddies, accountability, and maybe the odd person who will read my languid blogs.

I brought the sun home with me, and took it with me on my usual Sunday run around Hampstead Heath, the paths busy with people, priorities, dogs and prams. But the ascent of Parliament Hill was the easiest it’s ever been, my legs strong from the Umbrian valleys. I arrived at the crest, the view over the city clearer than usual. No mist, no fog, I could see where I was going. The rest of the journey would be downhill.

Our thanks to the Henry Oldfield Trust, to Villa Pia’s owner Morag Cleland, and to the writing tutors Tobias Jones, Elise Valmorbida and Alice Vincent for making our Travelling Scholarships to attend A Haven For Stories possible.