Half of the Kiwi prisoners released from jail are back in trouble with the law within two years, with a third going back behind bars, according to the Ministry of Justice. A new three-part documentary, 100 Days Free - which goes live on nzherald.co.nz today - follows three prisoners on their first 100 days out of prison, as they adapt to life on the outside. Cherie Howie reports.
You can watch the three episodes of 100 Days Free below.
Wattie Kahu is standing in the lounge of his sister’s Christchurch home, arms at his side, fingers fidgeting.
He’s come from Auckland with pockets stuffed full of lollies for family he hasn’t seen in decades, the sweet treats among a swag of gifts that made his bag 20kg overweight on the first flight he’s taken as a free man.
Behind the patched Black Power gang member, who has a long history of violent offending and has spent most of the past 40 years behind bars, gold lettering on a wall panel reminds him, “Today is a new beginning”.
WATCH WATTIE’S STORY IN EPISODE 1 OF 100 DAYS FREE BELOW:
In front, are family members Kahu knows he’s probably hurt over his 58 years.
“I love my family … to all the older ones [here], if anything I’ve done over the years - anything bad against any of you - I am so sorry.
“Now, I can come here without holding on to this anger … it’s time for me to move on. I really wanna get close to my family, I pushed all my family to the side too long … but, yeah, thank you for being here.”
Kahu, who has been in the justice system since he was sent to a boy’s home aged 9, followed by jail at 15, looks nervous.
But his family reacts warmly; the sister he hasn’t seen in decades rising to her feet.
“Group hug”, she says.
“Come on, that’s what we do.”
It’s a touching moment, and a sharp contrast to the opening scene in Kahu’s story - one of three told in the documentary 100 Days Free, which goes live on nzherald.co.nz today.
“They shot me in the head and leg”, he tells documentary maker Anthony Costello of a previous confrontation with police.
“I didn’t care if I wanted to die or not. I put my finger where they shot me in the leg, and I drawed [sic] this cross on my head. And I told this cop, ‘You should’ve shot me in the head, you p***k’.”
‘I learnt how to be a criminal in Australia’
Kahu’s efforts to rekindle long-neglected relationships with whānau are mirrored by the two other former prisoners featured in the documentary series, 501 deportee Josh - desperate to remain a part of his kids’ lives despite the forced geographical separation - and 22-year-old Ethan, who nervously texts his brother after 10 months clean to find out if he’s welcome back into the family.
It was emotional moments like these where he could feel his own hands shaking as he held the camera, says Costello, who was joined by wife Greta Young as producer for the project.
It quickly became clear the three stories shared the same theme - a desire to reconnect with family, he says.
“[The men] were all essentially on a healing journey with the end goal being reconnected to their families.
“During the series we had our second child and all the participants were so happy for me. Seeing how important family was to them made me even more grateful. It also made me feel so lucky for the upbringing and family that I have.”
A desire for connection was far from the only experience the men shared.
WATCH THE DOCUMENTARY ON JOSH’S FIRST 100 DAYS FREE BELOW
Like Kahu, Josh - who goes only by his first name in the documentary - is dealing with unresolved childhood trauma.
“I had a f***ed up upbringing and I can see my kids going through a little bit of the same now, and I want that to stop.”
Born in Gisborne, Josh moved to Australia in 1994 aged 13 after a close relative was sexually abused by another family member.
Until his deportation after 18 years - on and off - inside for cooking and dealing meth to fund his own addiction, he’d never been back.
“I wasn’t a criminal before I left here. I learnt how to be a criminal in Australia.”
Clean three months, he tells those supporting him from Te Pā - a kaupapa Māori organisation that helps prisoners reintegrate into the community - that his goal is to get a job and save enough money for his two children to visit during the school holidays.
A good experience will build the foundation for the future visits Josh so depends on.
“If I don’t get to see my kids, that’ll be the end of me … I’ll paddle a boat over there, it doesn’t matter.”
In the final scenes, Josh - who’s kept out of trouble and now has a job spray painting cars - is reunited with his kids in a touching moment at the airport arrivals hall.
“I’m proud that I’ve taken responsibility for the s*** that I’ve done wrong in my life, because that’s the start of healing.
“I didn’t have kids just to forget about ‘em,” he says as he embraces his son and daughter, stroking the young boy’s hair.
“I want my kids growing up knowing that I love them.”
‘We will rebuild - I will help you’
For Ethan, the journey back to acceptance in his family begins with getting clean.
He left prison - after eight months inside for assault - feeling “like a new baby”, he tells Costello.
“I’ve definitely left everything in the black hole back there.”
WATCH ETHAN’S 100 DAYS FREE DOCUMENTARY BELOW
He expects the cellphone waiting for him on the outside will go “bling, bling, bling” when he turns it on, he says, but the only messages are from friends.
But Ethan hasn’t lost hope of repairing relationships with family.
“It’s not that I’ve lost [them] but they just want to hear that I’m doing well, and if I’m not doing well they’re not gonna want anything to do with me … I’ve just gotta keep myself on a good track, so it’s really up to me to do it.”
A hundred days after leaving prison he texts his brother, telling him he’s been drug and alcohol-free for 10 months.
“[I wrote] ‘Miss talking to you and seeing what’s been going on in your life. Love you lots’,” he tells Costello.
“It’s not bad sending a love heart [emoji], eh? To your brother.”
He smiles as he reads the replies - his brother has been thinking about him, too, and wants to meet.
“[He says] ‘Just remember you’re young and everything that’s happened is nothing now. We will rebuild - I will help you with whatever you need’.”
Like all the men involved in the year-long project, Ethan has since reconnected with family and is working, Costello says.
“They’re all incredibly motivated to not go back to prison ever again.”
When inside is easier than outside
Unfortunately, that’s not always so for newly-freed prisoners, the documentary maker says.
He visited many prisoners while choosing participants for the series, and found abuse, poverty, mental health, head injuries and foetal alcohol syndrome were common among those inside.
“Prison is just a place where we send a big chunk of our most vulnerable people, the people who need our help the most.”
The 35-year-old went into the project thinking only older prisoners become institutionalised, like the fictional Brooks Hatlen from Stephen King’s book-turned-film The Shawshank Redemption, who takes his own life after struggling to adapt to freedom after 50 years inside.
“I was shocked at the number of people who’d committed crimes so they could go back to prison … people of all ages spoke about how prison was a break from their hectic lives on the outside.
“A lot of younger people told me inside was easier, safer and less stressful. To me that’s just a cry for help, for more support.”
Freed prisoners leave with $350 “and then you’re on your own”, with many becoming homeless - or going straight back to the same life that put them in prison - because they have nowhere to go, Costello says.
“That’s why Te Pā is so amazing - they try to provide accommodation and then wraparound services so when you leave prison you’ve got support.
“A lot of prisoners can’t read or write and they need help doing the basic things we take for granted.”
Some filming took place during last year’s election, which was hard because “despite all the evidence, tough on crime is still a big vote winner”, he says.
He wants “getting tough on crime” to mean “getting tough on the causes - poverty, the housing crisis, inequality and the lack of mental health support”.
“Otherwise getting tough on crime just means creating more lifelong criminals who continually cause harm, and create more victims.”
Ultimately, he hopes viewers will see that with the right help and support, people can change.
“[I wanted to] humanise some of the people who have been to prison. It’s hard to effectively cover crime in the news - most information comes from court cases and it’s hard to provide any context to the offending.”
Prisoners - who we never usually hear from directly - are often dehumanised, and reduced to statistics, Costello says.
“I wanted to give the opportunity for prisoners to tell their stories, and provide that missing context.
“Because no offending happens in a vacuum.”
*100 Days Free was made with funding support from NZ On Air.
Cherie Howie is an Auckland-based reporter who joined the Herald in 2011. She has been a journalist for more than 20 years and specialises in general news and features.
