Contribution
My Lords, after all that excitement, I fear I may be a bit of an anticlimax, but I will carry on regardless—and let people walk out. My Amendment 160A calls for a review of the impact of the Act on the prison estate and the ongoing treatment and care of mentally disordered people in a prison setting a year after the Act passes. We have all welcomed the Bill’s commitment to ending the use of prison cells as so-called places of safety, but as some of us noted in the debate on an earlier group, the promise of, for example, a transfer to hospital for prisoners facing acute crises within 28 days is widely viewed by criminal justice stakeholders as unlikely to happen. We need to review whether such cynicism is merited, because the prison reform aspects of the Bill are not minor. They should not be treated as Cinderella clauses: they are, to my mind, crucial.
We cannot pass this Act and leave prisoners who ought to be in hospital beds abandoned in squalid conditions in jails. Additionally, it is not fair to prison staff because, to quote Andrew Neilson from the Howard League:
“Our overcrowded prison system that has been asked to do much, with too little, for too long, is ill-equipped to help people who require intensive support for their mental health”.
I recently visited Five Wells prison in Wellingborough with my Academy of Ideas hat on. The new leadership team at Five Wells is doing some fantastic work on purposeful rehabilitation activities, and we hope to do a joint project of Debating Matters Beyond Bars with it there. I chatted more generally to the team members, who have worked in a variety of prisons over the years, and they all noted that the time and emotional strain on staff when dealing with psychotic and very poorly prisoners—they gave gory examples of prisoners eating their own faeces or making very bloody attempts at self-harm, et cetera—have been totally demoralising for officers. It may have been one of the reasons for the use of the segregation units I talked about earlier. But these things have also had a destabilising and frightening impact on other prisoners. Sharing space with those with paranoid delusions and who present a violent threat to themselves and others is no joke; it makes prison difficult for everyone. So it is crucial that we get this right in the context of an overstretched prison crisis, and a specific view would focus minds.
I also think that we cannot let the Bill pass into law without acknowledging that there is considerable public disquiet about the relationship between criminal justice and mental health care. What do we do about the detention of those convicted of serious crimes due to diminished responsibility, where professionals see secure hospitals as more appropriate than prison? I am sure we can all recognise that, for many victims and their families, this hospital option can feel like an injustice.
I am, of course, thinking of the high-profile and controversial case of Valdo Calocane. According to the recently published independent investigation, it was repeated failures to treat Calocane’s paranoid schizophrenia and violent outbursts that left him free to kill Barnaby Webber, Grace O’Malley-Kumar and Ian Coates in June 2023. More pertinently in relation to the Bill, the families of these tragic victims fear that Calocane may have been spared prison due to incomplete evidence presented in court, especially about his mental capacity. This is now exposed in the 302-page investigative report, and the families have concluded:
“This was a man who actively avoided his medication and treatment, knowing that when he didn't take his medication he would become paranoid and violent”.
This is interesting for our deliberations, because we now know that the doctors responsible for Calocane’s case repeatedly ignored the nurses treating him in the community, who begged for him to be put on a CTO to ensure that he took long-acting anti-psychotic drugs. Why were they ignored? It seems that the clinical team at Nottinghamshire Healthcare Foundation Trust made decisions “influenced” by the draft Mental Health Bill 2022. Those medics were very conscious of legislation down the line that seeks to raise the threshold of detention and reduce the use of CTOs, and of the call for a reduction of compulsion in medicating patients in the community. Then there is the issue of patient rights, in Calocane’s reluctance to take medication because he did not like needles. Staff were, we are told, acutely aware of the Bill highlighting the “disproportionate” use of restrictive practices on black African or black Caribbean patients—and so on and so forth.