WKWSCI FYP 2015: The Long Way Home (Feature Writing Project) by Ben Lim Media

THE LONG WAY HOME Life after prison is not easy, as many ex-offenders still face difficulties reintegrating into society

The Long Way Home A FEATURE WRITING PROJECT BY Amanda See Benjamin Lim Redzwan Kamarudin Seow Bei Yi

FOREWORD â&#x20AC;&#x153;Help unlock the second prison.â&#x20AC;? This slogan, a hallmark of the Yellow Ribbon Project, is a silent companion of the ex-offender, presenting itself at various stages of reintegration. It watches from the walls of transitional shelters, from the offices of volunteer welfare organisations and is a source of purpose for counsellors and social workers. It advertises at bus stops and on television screens, urging the public to keep an open mind and reminding ex-offenders of the difficult journey that lies ahead. It is a mark of the progress made and challenges that remain.

First published in 2015 Copyright ÂŠ Amanda See, Benjamin Lim, Redzwan Kamarudin, Seow Bei Yi, 2015 Photographs by Benjamin Lim Cover illustration by Wong Jie Ning A journalism feature writing Final-year Project under the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information, Nanyang Technological University All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the authors. Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information Nanyang Technological University 31 Nanyang Link Singapore 637718

CONTENTS THE LONG ROAD TO REINTEGRATION

Much has been done to help ex-offenders but reintegration remains tough

PURGING THE POISON

Drug offenders have a harder time leaving their past behind and continue to have a higher chance of relapse

Sharing the fruit of their labour

Some join social enterprises or become entrepreneurs, but it is hard without much money or expertise

Crossroads to reintegration

Halfway houses do more than rehabilitation; they become a sanctuary for those who choose to stay on as staff

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

Family support is crucial to ex-inmatesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; recovery, but family members have a hard time staying strong for them

High-Flyer with a tainted past

Beneath his prim and proper experience is a record that threatened to turn his life upside down

THE LONG ROAD TO REINTEGRATION

Over the years, much has been done to help ex-offenders but it is not easy for them to start anew. Securing basic needs and landing a job is a challenge for many, adding to the stress of constantly avoiding temptations.

From control to compassion

he shift towards rehabilitation started within the prisons more than a decade ago. A mark of this was the Housing Unit Management System introduced in 1999, which rid it of the “jungle-like” atmosphere that inmates experienced. With a population of around 16,000 in the late 1990s, fights were frequent and there was much bitterness between prisoners and wardens. Many inmates were repeat drug offenders and almost one in two relapsed within two years of release. Under the new system, prison officers were tasked with engaging inmates and acting as their mentors, not just their minders. “It was a huge change between the first time I was in prison, and then subsequently, the second and third time,” said lawyer Darren Tan, who spent a total of 10 years in jail going in and out for drug consumption and trafficking offences. The 36-year-old was first jailed in the Drug Rehabilitation Centre at Changi Prison in 1997. He has since completed his education at the National University of Singapore and was called to the Bar last year. With changes to the prison system, said Mr Tan, wardens stopped using force on inmates and started talking to them to understand their needs. He recalled being assigned a personal supervisor and the “strange” experience of his first counselling session. Back then, he wondered: “How come you’re speaking so nicely to me?” Gradually, the prisons become less isolated from society and more conducive for change.

Coordination between agencies also improved and focused on inmates’ rehabilitation needs, leading to the formation of the Community Action for the Rehabilitation of Ex-offenders (Care) network in 2000. Currently overseen by the Singapore Corporation of Rehabilitative Enterprises (Score), it consists of eight community and government organisations. But most well-known is the Yellow Ribbon Project, launched in 2004. An awareness campaign to help former inmates reintegrate, it has since become an overarching theme for initiatives urging acceptance. 11 years on, it has transformed the landscape that ex-offenders face. More employers are willing to hire former inmates compared to a decade ago. Score, which trains and matches exoffenders to employers, now has 4,433 companies registered in its network, up from 2,459 in 2010. More ex-offenders are securing higher-paying jobs in the food and beverage and logistics industries, when in the past most could only take up menial work in manufacturing or construction. The pool of volunteers for the Care network is growing also with about 2,600 in September last year, up from 200 when it started out 15 years ago. Efforts to help inmates settle down when they are released have played an important role in keeping them from their old ways. Fewer inmates fall back to crime, with the overall rate of re-offence dropping from 44.4 per cent in 1998 to 27.6 per cent for the batch released in 2012. This has in turn reduced the prison population.

The prison population peaked at 18,000 in 2002, but now stands at around 12,000.

A difficult journey awaits Although recidivism rates have dropped significantly from 15 years ago, they have remained constant for the past five years, with drug offenders continuing to face a higher chance of relapse. Almost one in three re-offends within two years. According to counsellors, even more – three in five – relapse in five years. Close to 80 per cent of the prison population consists of drug offenders, and the firsttimers are getting younger. Reports by the Central Narcotics Bureau (CNB) show that since 2011, more than 60 per cent of first-timers arrested each year were below 30 years old. The change in demographics brings new challenges to rehabilitation. More long-term offenders are released at the age of 50 to 60 years old, and that presents another challenge as they need greater support to find a place in society after spending most of their lives behind bars. Some may even find the world outside prison vastly different than before they were locked up. For many, the road to reintegration is still not an easy one. Besides struggling to reconcile with their families, finding a job is tough and some conceal their prison records to do so. Despite the efforts of the Yellow Ribbon Project, stigma still remains, with only three out of 14 companies that partner Score agreeing to be interviewed for this project about their policies towards hiring ex-offenders. Some former inmates choose to become

entrepreneurs and find themselves on an even more demanding course as they grapple with a lack of capital and expertise while trying to turn a profit. But they are the lucky ones. For those unable to secure basic needs like accommodation, often due to financial difficulties and limited spaces in shelters, turning back to crime could take just a matter of hours.

Falling through the cracks Former inmates who cannot afford a place of their own usually end up at a transitional shelter â&#x20AC;&#x201C; if they manage to get help from the right people. When Mr Tong Kiet Hoong finished serving his eight-month sentence at Admiralty West Prison last year, he realised that he had nowhere to stay. The 53-year-old divorcee was living alone in a rented flat before he was arrested for criminal breach of trust at his company. He gave up the place when charged in court, in a case that dragged on for a year. During that time, he left all his belongings with a friend. Like others in the Admiralty West Prison, he received an information booklet upon leaving its confines â&#x20AC;&#x201C; inmates like him who only served a short sentence are not referred to transitional shelters for rehabilitation, deemed to be at lower risk of relapsing. Knowing that help was available but unsure whom to ask from, Mr Tong was penniless and reluctant to burden his friends. So for the next 10 days, a bench at Changi Airport Terminal 3 became his bed.

“I looked like any other traveller who was waiting overnight in the airport for their flight, just that I did not have my luggage with me,” said Mr Tong. “But I knew I could not stay too long, or else people would start to recognise me.” His moment of respite came when an airport security officer, after spotting him numerous times, learned about his plight. The officer gave him the number to the Chinese Development Assistance Council, a non-profit organisation set up by the Chinese community, which then referred him to New Hope Shelter for Men-in-crisis. This is where he now stays, sharing a threeroom flat in Ang Mo Kio with seven others. The shelter consists of five such units in the same block and houses only male ex-offenders.

High demand for space at shelters There are not many places where homeless ex-offenders can stay temporarily, and New Hope’s transitional shelter gets more requests than it can handle. It houses 47 people currently but has a waiting list of more than 50. As a result, residents cannot stay there for as long as they want and may have to leave after around three months, although their tenure can be extended on a case-by-case basis. Demand for a shelter like this is high because other ones like halfway houses cater to those with addiction problems. Residents undergo a rehabilitation programme during their stay, which not all ex-offenders need. New Hope’s case manager Jeffrey Ong said the shelter’s management is considering relocating to a bigger location this year, like to an old school compound. But it still needs time and additional funding for this. The shelter only takes in referrals and received 236 of these in 2013 from the prisons, family service centres and family resource centres (FRCs), among other organisations. Potential residents are evaluated in an interview to see if they are suitable to live there, and the shelter usually takes in those who have no physical or mental issues. FRCs, which link up inmates to other organisations for assistance, used to refer inmates to another shelter run by nonprofit organisation Operation Renewal as well, but have stopped because of the place’s limited capacity.

A shelter from bad influences The importance of having a home to return to resonates with Mr Melvin Ee, 42, a reformed gangster who was jailed for drug and fighting offences. He now runs his own events company. Mr Ee stressed that unlike many repeat offenders, he was fortunate that his family never gave up on him and still took him home after his fourth stint in jail. “Many of my (church) brothers are not as lucky as I am when they come out from prison,” he said. “Their families may have already given up on them and without a proper shelter to settle in, the temptation to look for their old friends and bad company for help runs very high.” According to Nexus FRC, one of two support centres at the Prison Link Centre in Changi, the most common request

from ex-offenders was financial assistance, which made up 63.4 per cent of the total. This was followed by accommodation assistance, comprising 20.3 per cent. It handled 1,435 such requests last year. “Some have no homes to go to because families don’t want them, or they may have no family at all. Due to the nature of the very limited resources that can handle accommodation issues, we will highlight to them what are the shelters’ general criteria to manage expectations,” said Ms Siti Zaleka Ismail, 34, a social worker at the FRC.

Cheap rental flats not ideal for all Permanent housing can be sought through the Housing Board (HDB), which offers rental flats at an affordable rate to low-income individuals.

But here is the catch: under the Joint Singles Scheme, two tenants must be registered to a flat and for ex-offenders with no one to turn to, this could mean having to start life anew with a complete stranger. Not all are comfortable with this because of the seeming lack of privacy. The rationale for this scheme is to “ensure optimal utilisation of rental flats which are heavily subsidised and limited in supply.” Having two tenants live together would also “facilitate mutual care and support among single tenants, especially the elderly.” The wait for a flat can also take up to seven and a half months, during which the ex-inmates remain vulnerable to vices. But according to the HDB, it will review special cases who are in need of urgent housing, and may refer them to Interim Rental Housing or transitional shelters run by volunteer welfare organisations.

Tiding over the tough spell Renting a room from private owners can cost up to hundreds of dollars a month, so some ex-offenders choose to put up at a budget hotel or rent a bed in a hostel instead. But according to senior social counsellor Steve Boey of Lakeside Family Services, a family service centre in Jurong, these spots are in “infested areas” – places notorious for criminal activity – and are unconducive to live in during their job hunt. “I think the way forward is to look into temporary place of stay, maybe just for a couple of days, so that they can freshen up,” said Mr Boey. “Maybe just a place where they can put their stuff while they go for job interviews, and slowly find permanent accommodation.” Ms Emily Koh, a social worker who counsels ex-offenders at her church, said the first month is the hardest for ex-offenders because they have no cash to cover costs for essentials like food and transport. While the church gives an allowance to former inmates, it does not have a large fund and runs on donations. The 45-year-old added: “Even the Yellow Ribbon project has their terms and

conditions for financial aid, so the reality is not as ideal as it may seem.” Through the Yellow Ribbon Emergency Fund, ex-inmates can get up to $50 cash on the spot and a larger amount within a week from organisations like family resource centres. After receiving the money, counsellors will work with exoffenders to plan their subsequent steps towards reintegration.

Dealing with rejection A stable job, like a place to live, deters ex-offenders from turning back to illegal means for a quick buck. It keeps them occupied, giving them the income they need to support their family and regain the trust of their loved ones. But in the workplace, a sense of stigma remains. Motivational speaker David King Thorairajan, 34, who spent eight years in prison for gang-related activities, runs a life coaching company that regularly conducts sessions in schools. When the Ministry of Education required external vendors like his company to formally register as instructors, he did not expect any problems with his application as he had already been in the business for six years. But it turned out that he was the only one in the company who was not approved by the Ministry. When he asked

the Ministry for a reason, they only replied that they had evaluated his application “holistically” and he was “not capable”. Baffled, Mr King wrote to Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong and then-Education Minister Tharman Shanmugaratnam, who appealed to the Ministry on his behalf and helped him get the clearance he needed. Despite having a successful business and published a book about his experiences, Mr King remains self-conscious about his background: “When I meet new people, I don’t know what they’re going to think of me if I tell them about my past.”

Dissociating from their past To avoid complications, some hide their past entirely. Mr Zaime, who declined to publish his full name, was jailed thrice for drug-related crimes and has spent over seven years in total behind bars. Although the 46-year-old is now a project engineer, not once has he declared his records when applying for jobs. “The problem is, it’s a dilemma for people like us,” he said. “There are some employers who are participating with Score; yes, they know of your problem. But if you go outside and be interviewed on your own, let’s say you put (your prison records in writing), then most companies won’t give you that benefit of the doubt. They won’t even let you try.”

THE LUCKY FEW Some like Mr Kenneth Kiong get around his records by being positive and forthcoming with his employers. However, he considers himself an “odd one out” for reintegrating smoothly. The 55-year-old was jailed twice in his youth for stealing money, but never had a problem finding a job. He landed the first job he applied for after being released from jail and now, he works as a regional manager of a cosmetics company. “I was very proud to say that I’ve been to prison, because it’s my opportunity to share it with (my employers), rather than keep it to myself,” said Mr Kiong, who attributes this confidence to his faith, Christianity. He added: “If you have a fresh perspective, you are able to let yourself assimilate into society easily, start building relationships and be more confident of yourself. And not always be suspicious that people are looking at you very differently, because it may be in your mind.”

Not everyone gets away with hiding their past. Some of his acquaintances who found employment had passed their probation phase in the company, received a confirmation for the job and were even sponsored for training courses. But they were fired after their employers found out that they falsely declared a clean record. Whether it is a crime to withhold such information depends on how employment contracts are worded, said criminal defence lawyer Josephus Tan. This may not be a criminal offence but the company could still claim damages against their employee for a breach of contract, although this seldom happens. The more likely scenario is dismissal. “At the end of the day, I believe there are many of them who have gone on to falsely declare on their employment contract,” said Mr Tan. “And you can’t blame them. They want to have a second shot (at life) and without lying, they can’t have that.”

Receiving help through official channels Many assume that ex-offenders cannot find work because employers are not willing to hire people who have a record. But over the past decade, greater public awareness has led to a shift in attitudes, making it is easy for ex-offenders to find a job if they are not picky, say counsellors. The real challenge comes in landing a job with good career prospects and staying on for the long haul. Some inmates secure jobs before release through Score, which links them up with companies that are willing to hire them. Last year, 1,938 of the 13,305 inmates released received Score’s assistance. 1,865 of them landed a job before leaving jail, and 85 per cent stayed on for at least three months. The assistance process spans from an assessment of their attitude and commitment level, to goal-setting and one-to-one job coaching for interviews. Not all inmates receive Score’s help however. Priority goes to those serving longer sentences, who first go through a screening process by the Singapore Prison Service.

According to news reports, more than half of inmates released serve short sentences of less than a year. Said Mr Freddy Low, assistant director of employment assistance at Score, most people who did not take up the programme opted out from it. “They might already have employment waiting for them outside, or they might have other issues that they place priority over compared to employment,” he said. Inmates who opt out of the job training programme initially can still approach Score for help at their walk-in counter after release from prison.

Plagued by misconceptions Score’s assistance is viewed with skepticism by some ex-offenders, who think that the jobs offered by its network of employers pay less compared to the market rate. Mr Low denies this: “One of the collaboration requirements to employers is to pay market-relevant salary, meaning you remunerate our clients based on merits, regardless of their past.” There is also the issue of the variety of jobs offered through the scheme, which inmates typically associate with low-wage

ones like cleaning that they think do not pay enough to support a family. This is not necessarily the case. Of the jobs that inmates successfully applied for through Score in 2014, only 14 per cent pay less than $1,300 per month. Majority – 57 per cent – offer salaries between $1,300 and $1,499. Few of these jobs belong to the public sector – another reason that many are doubtful of the government’s efforts to give ex-offenders a second chance. Setting an example, 38 of the statutory board’s 204 staff are ex-offenders. They mostly work as linen attendants and operations officers within the prisons. Score has also facilitated visits for other public agencies to deepen their understanding in this area.

Need for closer monitoring More still needs to be done for closer monitoring and increased support for inmates upon their release. Senior social counsellor Steve Boey from Lakeside Family Services said: “The moment they step out, there are so many distractions and temptations that they will soon forget what they were supposed to be doing, or what was their goal in mind back in prison.”

Case workers also follow-up with inmates for at least six months after their release. They visit the ex-offenders to check on their adjustments to work and help them with financial assistance if needed. But this does not always work out. Follow-up support can be difficult when its intended recipients are uncontactable. Many inmates who are released do not own handphones and sometimes drop off the radar after requesting for employment or financial assistance. Score and family resource centres said this makes it impossible to track inmates and check on their progress. Said the executive director of the Singapore Anti-Narcotics Associations (SANA), Mr Abdul Karim, the first six months after release is most critical to ensuring that ex-offenders do not relapse. This relates to a large proportion of inmates – almost 80 per cent of the prison population has drug-related offences.

Strengthening their support system To create stronger safeguards against relapse, help also comes from grassroots volunteers as early as during incarceration. If inmates indicate that their loved ones need social or financial assistance, trained volunteers from their constituency will approach their family members to assess the situation and help where needed. This process is part of the Yellow Ribbon Community Project (YR-CP), which started in 2010. While it only had 221 trained volunteers in 2011, by 2013 it amassed 526

volunteers and approached 1,569 families. Providing assistance to the families of inmates allows them to return to a stronger support system. 65 per cent of families approached take on the assistance from volunteers. Those who do not seek help either are coping well on their own or have dissociated themselves from the inmate. One of the divisions involved in the YR-CP is Teck Ghee, which joined the programme in November 2011. The division, which consists of 11 Residents’ Committees, now has 25 volunteers managed by 65-year-old grassroots leader, Eddie Ong. The division handles about 50 cases a year and about 90 per cent of these families accept the volunteers’ assistance. According to Mr Ong, taking the first step to approach families is often the most difficult. It requires a lot of patience and understanding as inmates families’ have different living conditions and needs. “Sometimes our volunteers need to contact them several times as they are not at home,” he added. “Also, some inmates’ families tell our volunteers during the first visit that they do not need our assistance, and want to know when their loved one can be released.” Even though the volunteer assistance stops once the inmates are released, many ex-offenders and their families still approach Mr Ong when they have social or financial difficulties.At Taman Jurong, the founders of self-help group Beacon of Life have found a way to enhance YR-CP in their community.

Mr Darren Tan, a co-founder of the group, uses his experience as a former drug offender to reach out to at-risk youth. In addition to helping inmates’ families, Mr Tan has introduced a new programme where he and other members become mentors to the inmates for six months after their release. This initiative was however only introduced last year and is still in its pilot stages, so Mr Tan has yet to receive his first mentee. Looking back on his experiences, Mr Tan said that while ex-offenders’ complaints about the reintegration process and Yellow Ribbon Project are justified, the situation that ex-offenders face has definitely improved with the campaign. “I would say that with Yellow Ribbon, things are generally better,” he said. “People are more aware and they are more accepting, so despite whatever flaws the system may have, it is still better to have it than not to have it.”

MORE BEING DONE FOR THOSE WITH MENTAL ILLNESS Another group of ex-offenders that can slip under the radar is those with mental conditions. Many of them, said criminal defence lawyer Josephus Tan, might not even know of their own illness and could go untreated for years. Mr Tan estimates that between 30 to 40 per cent of the pro bono cases he has handled involve offenders with some form of mental condition, be it a case of depression or schizophrenia. They fall under the Criminal Legal Aid Scheme, run by the Law Society’s Pro Bono Services Office and various Community Legal Clinics. More has been done to help offenders who have mental illnesses, with the Institute of Mental Health (IMH) taking over management of the Psychiatric Housing Unit (PHU) in 2011. The unit, which is housed in the Changi Prison Complex, separates offenders with mental disorders from other inmates. It offers a structured psychiatric rehabilitation programme run

by a team of nurses, occupational therapists and psychiatrists. This programme spans about a year and readies inmates for reintegration back into their original housing unit to complete their sentences, or for release back into society. According to a report in 2013 by journal AsiaPacific Psychiatry, in its first two years, the PHU reviewed over 2,000 offenders in the programme. Some of the mentally ill offenders continue receiving treatment after their release from prison under a forensic psychiatry community service, also established by IMH in 2011, which provides holistic after-release care for ex-inmates. This could also play a part in reducing the recidivism rate. Mentally unwell inmates approaching their release date are evaluated and those deemed suitable get assigned case managers and medical social workers. A dedicated psychiatric clinic at the IMH was also established for released offenders to get early access to psychiatrists.

PURGING THE POISON D

rug offenders make up about 80 per cent of the prison population, and almost three in 10 of them return to crime within two years of release from jail. This is because drug users have a harder time putting their past behind them. Although they go cold turkey in prison, ridding themselves of the physical symptoms of addiction, saying no to temptation is a lifelong commitment. This involves rebuilding their social lives and making new friends who will not lead them back to their old ways. According to the Singapore Prison Service, 28.3 per cent of the drug offenders released in 2012 were sent back to prison, higher than the overall recidivism rate of 27.6 per cent. In an attempt to deter repeat drug offenders, harsher penalties like long-term imprisonment were introduced 17 years ago. This is a three-strike policy introduced in 1998. While drug abusers’ first two offences land them in the Drug Rehabilitation Centre for 12 months and 18 months respectively, a third related offence costs them at least five years in jail and three strokes of the cane. For those who have been through longterm imprisonment once, a subsequent offence could result in a maximum sentence of 13 years in jail and 12 strokes of the cane. Despite that, the recidivism rate of drug offenders has remained relatively constant for the past five years.

Caring for former long-term inmates

A side effect of long-term imprisonment is the likelihood of these offenders only being able to live clean at the age of 50 or 60. These former inmates will likely need

more help reintegrating, having to find a job to support themselves and adapt to a changed society. Said Mr Teo Beng Kim of HighPoint Halfway House: “These are the so-called ‘leftovers’, because employers will look for younger people to employ – those who have more skill sets. Some of the older ones can’t even speak English.” According to the Central Narcotics Bureau (CNB), 2,000 long-term inmates were released by the end of 2013, with more coming out each year. To deal with this, HighPoint implemented a shelter programme in last August, helping former abusers to apply for rental flats in pairs under the HDB’s Joint Singles Scheme. Mr Teo, who is in charge of the programme, said the halfway house expects to take in some 70 senior residents between March and April this year. It can house up to 80 people in total. “We can only provide them shelter for six months so in that time, after they find jobs and get emotionally and physically stable, we help them find a partner to get a rented flat from HDB.”

for hours on end. Speaking to any of the other 20 people inside the room is strictly forbidden; some choose to take a nap while others read to kill time. Only when their test results turn out negative do they get back their identity cards and leave the police station to resume their lives. “It’s a way for newly released former drug addicts to suddenly have access to a network of drugs again, very quickly,” said lawyer Darren Tan, 36, a former drug user who underwent the supervision scheme thrice, first in 1999 and most recently, in 2009. “Sometimes they (ex-inmates) will just hang around waiting for people to come, or stay outside the police station just to wait to be introduced to people.” Prison volunteer and religious teacher Abdul Majeed said that due to the tendency of former drug addicts relapsing together, it is vital that they are kept apart. “Each individual told me personally they don’t want to go back to their friends and their old habits,” he said. “But if opportunities arise, they go back to their old ways.”

Struggling to stay ‘clean’

A bad break

The burden of having a record remains long after drug offenders walk free. Twice a week, they report to an assigned police divisional headquarters for urine tests under CNB’s two-year drug supervision scheme. Failure to do so incurs a fine or worse, imprisonment. But for ex-offenders struggling to stay clean, meeting up could sow the seeds for a potential relapse. In the test centres, they surrender their identity cards and experience the familiar feeling of being locked up in a room again, under the watchful eye of a police officer. They submit their urine samples and wait

Having to take leave from their jobs twice or thrice a week for urine tests can be disruptive to ex-offenders’ work life but it is an inconvenience they have to bear, at least for the first part of two years. Mr Melvin Ee, 42, understands the situations that both employer and employee face. Mr Ee has been to prison four times for drugs and fighting, and now runs an events company with three former drug offenders working under him. He allows his employees to leave work earlier so that they will not be late for their urine tests, and said that employers who are understanding and do the same

play a pivotal role in helping former drug offenders. “This action may be small, but it is very important and also a form of encouragement to the ex-offenders,” he said. “It will help them to build a good working attitude in the company.” Assistant manager Sherman Soh, 39, of Soon Huat Bak Kut Teh, a Chinese food stall in Bedok, allows his employees flexible schedules to accommodate their needs. 80 per cent of the stall’s 16 staff are ex-offenders.

of the DRC, where drug offenders usually go. They also have to attend counselling with their families. The change in strategy starts in preventive efforts, which could include reaching out to youth through social media platforms.

Said Mr Karim of SANA: “It’s a continuous effort. You have to look at the context and then tweak your programmes, tweak your strategies to suit the changing trend, changing perception, and change in the type of drugs that people abuse.”

Changing demographics More youths have been caught for firsttime drug offences, and with the evolving demographic come new challenges for counsellors and organisations that help them. Since 2011, more than 60 per cent of first-timers arrested each year were below 30 years old, according to CNB reports. Unlike in the past, fewer young drug offenders come from dysfunctional families. This group of addicts seeking a thrill are generally higher educated and more techsavvy. They navigate their way through the Internet underworld to find drug dealers and lay their hands on cannabis, ice and new psychoactive substances (NPS), also known as “designer drugs”. Mr Eddie Joseph, director of halfway house Teen Challenge, said: “Back then we didn’t have the Internet, so access to drugs was harder. You had to know certain people. But now, it’s so easy to get in touch with dealers; everything is connected.” He also pointed out that the media is guilty of desensitising youths to the dangers of drug abuse through music and films.

Total number of new drug users aged 20-29 Total number of new drug users

Need to combat liberal attitudes An increasingly liberal attitude towards drugs is a serious concern, said Mr Abdul Karim, executive director of the Singapore Anti-Narcotics Association (SANA). “The attitude of the youth is something that we need to change. People need to know that once you start on this path of taking drugs to get the high or to feel good about yourself, this will lead to a lot of other things. You may end up needing to buy drugs and then you may need to steal,” he said. “There’s always this correlation between drugs and crime.” The need to address this changing demographic is not lost on the authorities. Since May 2014, young and first-time offenders who are assessed as ‘low-risk’ have been placed in the newly-established Community Rehabilitation Centre instead

Singapore’s total number of new drug users, and new drug users between 20 to 29 years old.

HIS struggle with death

Counsellors say they have been receiving more clients aged 30 and below in recent years, and this proves to be a challenge. Many are used to dealing with the older and lower-educated, and the new demographic means that their rehabilitation methods may be outdated and ineffective.

oshua Silvester was 15 when he started taking drugs like ketamine at home, a few times each week. His friends, however, were not content with just that. They would scour the web for other powdered drugs, which came disguised as tubs of protein powder from fake bodybuilding websites, and then gather in hotel rooms to get high. Silvester often joined the group but claimed he had never tried the pseudo supplements. “They’re the crazier and smarter kinds, and to me it’s quite frightening because a lot of them weren’t really scared of getting caught, or even the side effects of taking the drugs,” said the 25-year-old, a resident of halfway house Teen Challenge. During his six-month programme, he has met older repeat drug offenders and realised that he did not want to end up like

them. Although he is about to finish his sentence, he hopes to extend his stay until confident of swearing off his old ways. He has been to jail thrice. His first two sentences were for going absent without official leave while serving national service in 2011. Both times, he skipped duty to work as a mover in a warehouse for $400 a week so that he could continue buying drugs. The third time, in 2014, he was caught using them. Counselling has been an important part of his rehabilitation, but it was initially hard for him to open up about his problems to an older person. He is not the only one who faced this difficulty. Silvester said that drug users his age tend to avoid counselling as they have misconceptions that they will be punished: “I think it’s quite intimidating to be put in

an office with just a counsellor. It’s like you’re in an interview, and if you say the wrong thing or give the wrong answer, something will happen to you.” To him, counselling should not be the only way to help young drug users kick their addiction. Getting them involved with activities like sports and the arts could be more effective because they are introduced to a new circle of friends. Silvester, captain of the football team at Teen Challenge, said: “This helps in building self confidence in younger drug users like me. Once you go to prison, it changes you and you can feel like you can’t do anything. “But this halfway house changed me. Here, I play football nearly everyday and I’ve made new friends. I’m more confident in myself to get through this stage of my life.”

Drug offenders relapse more easily because they become dependent on the intoxicants, which bring about bodily changes. Quitting the habit is a long and difficult journey.

hen he was a drug addict, Mr Gerald Chua often cooped himself up in his room, not wanting to face the outside world. Not even his mother’s battle with cancer in 1998 could coax him from its confines. “(My family) struggled a lot, especially when my mother was ill,” said the 37-yearold, who had been using drugs since 11. “I was always inside the room getting high. So she had to go to the hospital alone.” He was hooked on ecstasy at that time and could hardly make it past a day without alcohol. “She got very upset,” he added. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to change at that time. I wanted to, but no matter how many times I tried it didn’t last. I tried more times than I could count. (I’d stay clean for) a week, at most one month.” Things got worse after Mr Chua

was released from prison for the fourth time in 2003. He got into gambling after leaving jail and went to the UK to work as a cook for two years, trying to pay off his debt. Although he was far away from home, the drugs never left him. “When I lived alone, the loneliness was so scary. It used to be a trigger (to drugs) because you open the door to an empty house and it’s terrible,” he said. The pressure of facing his problems alone was overbearing, but the crushing blow was dealt when his mother hanged herself in her flat more than a year into his stay in the UK. She never gave up on him even during his hardest times. She left him with about $100,000, which Mr Chua squandered on drugs. He was unemployed for the next three years and fell into a debt of $25,000.

He also lost his flat, which was confiscated by the HDB, and struggled with drug addiction for the next eight years. In 2012, he attempted suicide, wanting to jump off a HDB flat, but could not bring himself to do so. At his wits’ end, he came back down and prayed for help. In December that year, he finally took up his pastor’s advice to join Breakthrough Missions, a Christian halfway house, where he would spend two years in rehabilitation. Mr Chua left the halfway house last December and is now studying in Tung Ling Bible School. He lives with his sister and her family, and having them around makes it easier for him to move on from his rough past: “There is a big support and encouragement and most importantly acceptance, rather than going out and facing everything alone.”

Quitting while he’s young

Sharing the fruit of their labour

It is not easy for employers to set their reservations aside, especially if ex-offenders have yet to prove that they genuinely want to change for the better. Some who cannot find a job that provides for their families start their own businesses to employ others in a similar predicament.

PHOTO: The house mover teams at The Helping Hand, a halfway house which runs its moving business, handles on average two jobs a day. Most of its employees are residents who are recovering drug addicts. PHOTO: Mr Harold Tan, who was once a drug offender, has now found a job through his friends.

elping ex-inmates get back on their feet is a long-term investment. It takes 50 hours and seven days a week for at least two years, according to assistant professor Leong Kaiwen of Nanyang Technological University. Dr. Leong mentors ex-offenders to become entrepreneurs when he is not teaching, as part of his work with Princeton Mind. This is a social enterprise that he founded in 2011 to help ex-offenders, dropouts and other disadvantaged people overcome social stigma. Starting last year, he decided to focus solely on helping ex-offenders. His involvement with social work dates back more than half a decade. There is much on-going effort to help former inmates reintegrate, he said, but the process is very resource-intensive when it comes to those who commit more serious crimes like murder, rape, or repeated drug abuse. These are the people he works hard for. Among the ex-offenders he has worked with is Mr Balamurukan Kuppusamy, 43, who spent almost a decade in jail for various offences. Mr Balamurukan received training from Princeton Mind, which also helped him find funding to open his own Indian food stall at Bukit Batok Crescent in 2012. But it has not all been smooth-sailing for Dr Leong. He received threats to his safety, his office was burgled, and all of his volunteer staff quit on him. Now he works alone and forks out $30,000 to $50,000 of his own money every year, mentoring six to seven people at one time. He does this knowing that the government’s resources are stretched and calls it “doing the best you can with what you have”.

No money, limited expertise For ex-offenders who have difficulties finding employment, starting their own business or joining a social enterprise can be a solution. This is because the less-educated who have large families to support could find it hard to survive on the low wages offered

by jobs with little career advancement. But being an entrepreneur with little capital and expertise is no mean feat. Mr Ang Thiam Hock mentors four exoffenders in co-running a woodworking company called Aestiwood. Said the 52-year-old: “We cannot make an assumption that every ex-inmate can be an entrepreneur. You can’t do that, especially for those who have been in detention for an extended period of time.” Formerly a manager of a team of software architects, he volunteers his time to guide the quartet at the request of a long-time friend, Mr Patrick Chan. Mr Chan is a grassroots volunteer of Taman Jurong and devotes his time to helping ex-offenders, even paying for their school fees or skills training in some instances. He was the former owner of Aestiwood and now acts as a consultant for its staff. Mr Ang said: “More often than not, at least from what I’ve seen, they’re not born entrepreneurs. That’s why we have to help them kick-start the platform so that they can actually take over from there.” His objective: To change the mindset of Aestiwood’s new owners from being ordinary workers used to taking instructions to ‘thinkers’ who understand how to operate the company and can come up with solutions to its problems. Money is an issue for entrepreneurs also and one like Aestiwood costs too much to start from scratch, according to Mr Ang. The owners need a cash injection to run the company. This is why Aestiwood is backed by a holding company, Tasek Jurong Pte Ltd, which handles funds from donors like organisations or well-wishers. The woodworking company is the first of several social enterprises to be set up by Tasek Jurong to help disadvantaged groups.

focusing on those who need it most Some companies prioritise hiring ex-offenders, and Aestiwood is one of them. “It’s much harder for individuals

with past records to get an employment opportunity. So, given a preference or a choice, we will definitely hire ex-inmates,” said Mr Ang. Since taking over the reins from Mr Chan in September last year, the new owners of Aestiwood have hired two new employees. “We hire the marginalised but train them at a management level,” said the company’s design and creative director Kim Whye Kee, 35, a reformed gangster who has spent more than 10 years in prison. “This social enterprise is a perfect solution (in) that we build our own career. After that, then we can help more people.”

A win-win situation

Social enterprises attached to volunteer welfare organisations like halfway houses similarly provide training and employment to ex-offenders while helping to cover operational expenses. Among popular options are housemoving services and furniture sales. PHOTO: A Mr Harold Ta moving business brings in more profit as it runs with little cost, said Mr Freddy Wee, deputy director at halfway house Breakthrough Missions. The same cannot be said of its café at People’s Park Complex, which sets them back $17,000 per month on rental alone with only a slight profit margin. The Helping Hand, another halfway house that operates moving and furniture businesses, sees its social enterprises as an effective means to keep operations sustainable. They employ majority of its residents as part of work therapy and bring in about 60 per cent of the organisation’s income. Started in the 1990s with only one truck, its moving business has since expanded to a fleet of 10. “At least when the people are here, they learn how to work as a team, follow orders and come back on time,” said Mr Vincent Tan, a counsellor at the halfway house. PHOTO: “It’s more like Tan, jobwho retention, Mr Harold was once a drug has now bearing in mind thatoffender, a lot of them did not found a job through his friends. work previously. ”

PHOTO: Breakthrough Cafe, located at Peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Park Centre in Chinatown, serves Hong Kong-style dim sum and local dishes. The restaurant can TO: Mr Harold Tan, accommodate who was once about a drug100 offender, has now through his friends. customers, but found rental aisjob expensive.

PHOTO: Woodworking company Aestiwood is run by four ex-offenders who took over from previous owner Mr Patrick Chan, who now acts as a consultant for the staff. The company recently hired two more staff and aims to equip its employees with management skills.

PHOTO: Residents at Watchmanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Home, a halfway house in Changi, undergo a baptism ceremony during the shelterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Christmas celebrations last year.

Crossroads to reintegration For some drug addicts, halfway houses are just a stop on their journey to recovery. For others, it is where they choose to remain, reaching out to others.

he residential estate along Upper Serangoon road is quiet on a Thursday morning, but between two condominiums is an L-shaped, three-storey compound that is coming alive with activity. Banners on the building’s façade advertise its services. ‘New, lovingly handcrafted teak furniture’, one reads. Another quips: ‘Please don’t mind our tattoos’. Lorries line the vast courtyard, where men in maroon T-shirts gather in assigned groups chatting. Many are middle-aged, and sure enough, some of them sport tattoos and bleached hair. Suddenly, one of the men wrestles another to the ground. Arms locked around each other’s shoulders, they tussle playfully to their colleagues’ amusement. This is The Helping Hand, one of the largest halfway houses in Singapore. Its teams of house movers are getting ready for a new day of work.

Staying on to help others Moving supervisor See Kin Mam gets into the back of an empty lorry with two others as his team sets off for its first location. It has been almost four years since the 58-year-old completed his sixmonth programme at the halfway house, which helped him kick a drug addiction that started in 1975. Halfway houses are transitional shelters that accommodate and rehabilitate inmates assigned there by the prisons for the last six months of their sentences. They also take in exoffenders who voluntarily sign up to stay away from vice and various addiction problems. Most residents are drug abusers who hope to kick the habit. “I wanted to stay here,” said Mr See, who has been jailed 18 times. “Each time I left the prison, it was hard to find a job. I would work for a year and leave.” The shortest he stayed out of prison during that time – two weeks. Working at The Helping Hand has helped him find peace and fulfillment. After completing a six-month rehabilitation programme in 2011, he moved back home with his wife and daughter. But wanting to avoid another relapse, Mr See continues to work at the halfway house, which is his sanctuary. He is now a full-time supervisor in charge of a team of four to five movers. “I think this job is interesting for me and challenging,” he said. He hopes to continue working at the halfway house until the shelter, in his words, does not want him there any more.

PHOTO: A team of movers from The Helping Hand at work. Movers are residents of the halfway house and are employed as part of their work therapy.

Besides heading a moving team, he accompanies new residents to buy daily necessities and takes them to church during the weekends. About 20 per cent of residents at The Helping Hand, which can accommodate up to 96 ex-offenders, stay on to work there full-time, said counsellor Vincent Tan. Other halfway houses see a higher conversion rate from residents to staff. About 40 per cent of residents at Breakthrough Missions and Pertapis halfway house become staff, while close to half of the residents at HighPoint choose to stay on. Often, they leave after working full-time for a few years. Working at the halfway house does not just keep former residents out of trouble. It also allows them to mentor current ones. Mr Tan, a former drug user who joined The Helping Hand as a counsellor in 2006, knows just how easy it is to let his guard down even after years of abstinence. Leaving the prisons for the fifth time in 1988, he steered clear of drugs. For more than 10 years, it seemed like he was back on the right track. But when he took them on a whim at a friend’s offer one day,

he relapsed. He got addicted to heroin and methamphetamine again, and was arrested in 2003. It was only a year later that he found his footing in life after prison, taking up studies in substance abuse and social work.

Faith is their guide Religion was pivotal to Mr Tan’s transformation and like him, many addicts rely on faith to pull through a difficult period of rehabilitation. Of the eight government-funded halfway houses, two cater to Muslims, four to Christians, and the remaining two house Hindus and Buddhists respectively. Residents do not need to have a religion to enter the halfway house or convert during their stay, but some choose to do so. Mr Tan became a Christian in 1988 when he lived at The Helping Hand. He considers religion the most important factor to helping him quit drugs. “I found strength to overcome my addiction,” he said simply. As the name suggests, life in a halfway house is an in-between of the prisons and society. Although it is less restrictive than the

Personalised care for ex-inmates The eight government-funded shelters implement a secular programme called the Halfway House Service Model in addition to their religious support. The model, implemented in 2010, caters to inmates’ individual needs and focuses more on work and family reintegration. A resident’s recovery begins one month before they go to the shelter, when a social worker meets him or her in prison to develop a personalised recovery plan. After around three months of therapy at the halfway house, inmates take up jobs or certified courses for at least the next two months of their stay. The halfway house will continue to provide residents with aftercare three months after their release to minimise the risk of reoffending. There are currently 17 halfway houses islandwide run by volunteer welfare organisations.

A new government-run one, expected to be ready by 2018, will cater to long-term drug offenders and other high-risk inmates convicted of serious offences like rape. Mr Koh Shukai, a manager at the Care Network office, said: “Halfway houses play a very important role in reintegrating ex-offenders back into the society because they actually enable exoffenders to work in the community.” Most spaces in the government-funded halfway houses are reserved for inmates emplaced by the prisons, but walk-in cases are sometimes accepted as well. These include people who have finished their jail sentences or not been arrested but wish to undergo a recovery programme. The shelters are however not a safe haven from the authorities and do not house wanted offenders.

female offenders face Different challenges

prisons, residents adhere to a schedule that demands discipline. For those in a Christian house, this could mean waking up at the crack of dawn and devoting an hour to quiet reading of the bible before starting their day. The same devotion to religion is required of residents in a Muslim halfway house, who pray five times a day. House rules are also strict, with residents allowed to call only their families. Curfew times prevent them from staying out late, and sometimes they undergo spot checks like breathalyser tests to make sure that they have not been smoking, drinking or taking drugs on the sly. The discipline cultivated from exoffenders’ days in the halfway house often becomes ingrained in their daily lives, sometimes even after they have left. For Mr Gerald Chua, 37, a former resident with Breakthrough Missions and a devout Christian, getting up early to read the bible is an important part of his day. He said: “The relationship with God gets us going every morning. It helps me get through the day.”

Only one of the existing halfway houses caters to female ex-offenders, who make up 8.6 per cent of the total inmate population. This is The Turning Point, a halfway house that takes in up to 30 residents who are mostly Eurasian, Indian or Chinese. Being a Christian shelter, they do not take in Muslims because of the difference in dietary requirements and religious practices. This poses a problem for Muslim female offenders, as they do not go through rehabilitation programmes offered at halfway houses. Instead, they return home after their stints in the Drug Rehabilitation Centre. Female ex-offenders face different challenges during reintegration, said Ms Coreen Chong, case manager at The Turning Point.

They have a stronger tendency to relapse when the men in their lives continue using drugs, and many of the female offenders tend to be attracted to men who are addicts or gangsters. Ms Chong added that female exoffenders also have more anxiety when it comes to caring for their families and raising their children, and this can be attributed to how society views gender roles. Even if they must work to support their families, women are still expected to shoulder more family responsibilities like child-raising compared to men. Of The Turning Point’s 27 residents, almost 90 per cent have children to look after. “Women are drowned in their family’s needs and their ability to cope is consistently being put to the test,” said Ms Chong.

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

Family suppor for ex-inmates It is the roof o are down and support as the and the source them back from But not everyo family and rec

mily support forms the foundation ex-inmates to rebuild their lives. s the roof over their heads when they down and out, the unconditional port as they struggle with stigma, d the source of strength that holds m back from crime. not everyone grows up in a loving mily and reconciliation takes time.

o Mr Kim Whye Kee (left), 35, an ex-offender and mentor to at-risk youth in his community, there are two conditions that turn people to crime: when a family is in transition, like for example going through a divorce, or when it has no role model for its children. When Mr Kim was in primary school, divorce tore his family apart. His mother moved out and his father, a gambler, soon sold their house to feed his addiction. The situation at home drove him to the street gangs. He was convicted on three separate occasions for his involvement as a leader commanding hundreds and spent 10 years behind bars. “In a gang, it’s a confirmation of identity, where we can’t find a home,” he said. But family was also the reason he finally cut ties with them and got back on his feet. During his third stint in prison, he was allowed a short visit out to the hospital – to see his father who was dying of lung cancer. It struck him hard. and he kept his distance from his gang upon returning from the funeral. After he was released, he went to live in a rented two-room flat with his sister who worked hard to support the family. They have since upgraded to a three-room flat in Taman Jurong. Looking back, his loved ones are the biggest source of support. He said: “My family was always

there (for me). The key is whether you realise (it) or not.” Doing it for their family

For some ex-offenders, having a family changes their perspective. Former drug user Zaime, 46, did not think much of it when he was jailed for the first three times. He was single then, and although he stayed with his parents and siblings, he was independent from them. But his fourth stint in prison was a wake-up call - he had become a father to two young daughters and his marriage was on the rocks. “It really hit home. And then I cried for so many nights because I was thinking of my daughters. I missed seeing them,” he said. He had been sentenced to five years in jail and five strokes of the cane for helping his friends cut the straws they used for drug consumption. Joining an in-prison programme with the Salvation Army helped, as his children could visit him. “Every year we’re allowed open visit and open contact with our daughters,” he said. “For Christmas, or maybe Hari Raya, our daughters could come in, sit beside us with one adult, which was my mother.” When he was released, he swore off his old lifestyle for good: “The important thing is, you have to change for yourself first. Because if we can’t take care of ourselves, how can we take care of our family?”

Mr Harold Tan, who was once a drug offender, has now found a job through his friends.

NOT EASY TO STAY STRONG In order to be there for the inmate when he or she is released, inmates’ families have to weather the additional burden of caring for their family and come out stronger as well.

f an inmate is married, the burden on his or her spouse is increased, having to juggle finances and childcare alone. It helps if they have support from their other relatives but otherwise, it can be very difficult for them, said Mr Benedict Kuah, assistant director of the Children’s Society, which reaches out to children, youth and families in need. Said Mr Kuah: “Some spouses know about their partner’s criminal activities beforehand, while some of them only find out upon arrest. This could be quite a traumatic experience for them.” Inmates’ children could also end up blaming themselves or their incarcerated parent: “We had one case, I think the father was incarcerated for burglary. One of the children thought that it was his fault because he always pesters his father to buy things.” Many families experience shame, fearing that the people around them,

including neighbours or school teachers, may find out about the offence. For this reason, many parents whom Mr Kuah work with choose not to approach schools for financial assistance.

son was arrested shortly after the loss of her husband, her sense of guilt was immense, thinking that he had turned to drugs and crime because of her neglect. But her biggest regret was not being there with him when he received his sentence: “I was Hard to ask for help working, and I did not dare to tell anyone that my son was in trouble, Ms May Chia, 50, whose son so I didn’t manage to take leave.” was jailed for drug consumption The best she could do was visit and trafficking on two separate him every week in prison for the occasions more than 10 years ago, five years he spent behind bars. found it hard to confide in anyone even when the going got tough. Waiting for the right time “Even if I tell them, they can’t If the former inmate is not ready help me,” said the part-time food promoter. Her husband died in to change, family members could 2002 and for a long time, she end up getting hurt more. Madam singlehandedly supported her two Susan Lim, 53, whose ex-husband was jailed for gang activities in children. The family was not well-off and the 1980s, remains skeptical of a she worked two jobs every day for former inmate’s ability to change six days a week, selling noodles at a for the better. For the nine years he spent in school canteen by day and working prison, she raised their children at a coffee shop by night. When her

PHOTO: A televisit centre in Taman Jurong, Lakeside Family Services. For inmates who have families that are too busy working or caring for their children, visiting a family centre for its televisit services is a convenient way to see their loved one.

with the help of her in-laws and neighbours. They were one and four years old when he was jailed, and life as she knew it took a turn when he returned home. “I didn’t even know when he was released,” she said. “The first day he came back, he got dead drunk.”

He continued gambling and could not get along with the children. Not knowing of any counsellors or organisations to approach, she put up with it for a simple reason: her children wanted to have a father. But things never got better and eventually, he asked

for a divorce. “Maybe if someone counselled him back then, he might have changed. Maybe not,” she said. “I see a lot of people from his time who never turned over a new leaf.”

HIGH-FLYER WITH A TAINTED PAST

57-year-old Harold Tan is clean-shaven, smartly dressed in business attire and speaks eloquently when we meet at the National Library. But beneath his prim and proper appearance is a tainted record that once threatened to turn his life upside down.

usiness consultant Harold Tan was once addicted to methamphetamine and in 2011, he spent more than half a year in a prison cell with seven others. He served the remainder of his year-long sentence under home-tagging supervision. An illustrious career shows how drug addiction could happen to just anyone. A recipient of two government scholarships, Mr Tan held senior management.positions at top firms like Centrepoint, KeppelLand and Gutherie Properties. He also oversaw projects in China, Indonesia and Vietnam. After working in the real estate

industry for more than 25 years, he became an associate professor at the National University of Singapore (NUS) with a teaching excellence award under his belt.

“A Jekyll and Hyde story” During his teaching stint, he started leading a double life. At a wine and cheese party for white-collar professionals, Mr Tan was introduced to methamphetamine which was being passed around casually in a pipe. He quickly got hooked and began consuming the drug before giving lessons

and during semester breaks. “It was like a Jekyll and Hyde story,” said Mr Tan. “I could take the drug and then deliver a lecture looking perfectly normal. Nobody suspected anything.” Working hard to look after his dementia-stricken mother, he found solace in consuming meth, which temporarily took the stress off him. He likened the high to disappearing from this world and being transported to a fantastical place, like scenes from the movie Avatar. Back then, life was comfortable – he earned a five-figure monthly salary, drove a BMW and lived in a condominium.

“I openly declared that I was an ex-drug offender and immediately, the interviewer’s face changed. I knew then that I had probably blown it, and true enough I didn’t hear from them any more. What does that say?” Mr Harold Tan, on how declaring his drug record cost him a potential job.

But everything changed in December 2010, when he was caught in a dragnet while consuming meth with two other teachers. To make things worse, news of their arrests only identified him in the drug bust. “It’s basically character assassination – selecting me to let the press have a field day. Having a headline saying ‘Former scholar is a drug addict’ sends a strong message,” said Mr Tan. He recalled the humiliation when the police informed NUS of his incarceration – he was made to read out his dismissal letter in front of the dean who went to visit him in the Drug Rehabilitation Centre at Changi Prison.

Rejection and discrimination With qualifications like Mr Tan’s, one might imagine that finding a job would be a breeze after being released in 2012. But the high-profile arrest and permanent drug record made it incredibly difficult. Despite sending out some 70 job applications over two years, only one company replied. The company was keen to hire, but Mr Tan’s honesty during the interview ruined his chances. He said: “I openly declared that I was an ex-drug offender and immediately, the interviewer’s face changed. I knew then that I had probably blown it, and true enough I didn’t hear from them any more.” He shrugged and added drily, “What does that say?” Six months into unemployment, he managed to land a part-time position at a private school where he taught twice a month. Even that was short-lived – its principal was pressured by a former colleague of Mr Tan to fire him because

of his drug record. Mr Tan was at a loss: “I told the school that it was not fair to me because my teaching evaluations were all very good, and I’m not teaching these students to take drugs, for heaven’s sake.” Desperate, he went to seek help from the Member of Parliament in his constituency, who wrote a letter of appeal to reinstate him. Today he is able to teach at various private institutions, but the drug record has effectively severed his ties with local universities. “All of them report to the Ministry of Education and they have a very unforgiving policy,” he said. It was only through the help of his friends that Mr Tan found his current job as a consultant at an investment firm, and he stressed that this only happened because people at the company know and trust him. There was no need to declare his past on an employment form, he said, and the situation would be far more complicated elsewhere. To him, employers’ needs to ask about a past conviction or drug record is discriminatory and puts ex-offenders in a dilemma: “If we tell the truth do you honestly think we have a chance at being fairly evaluated? And if we don’t tell the truth, we would have broken the law. It’s a catch-22 situation.” Life looked so bleak at one point that Mr Tan was tempted to leave the country and start life anew. He could easily find a job in Hong Kong or China with his qualifications. But he decided to stay here for his family, whose care and support were crucial to helping him recover from his addiction. “After what I had put my family through, I didn’t want to abandon them again.”

Shadowed by his past Mr Tan also said that it was hard for him to reintegrate as he would be singled out at times for his drug record. Twice, he was stopped at the Woodlands Checkpoint and forced to undergo a urine test. In one instance, CNB officers escorted him off the coach he was travelling on, in full view of the other passengers, and brought him to a lock-up where he waited while they rummaged through his shopping bags. The bus left without him and his family, leaving them stranded at the checkpoint late at night. Although Mr Tan could not blame the officers for performing their duty, the experience left him discouraged. “If it was already so hard for me with my qualifications, imagine what the rest would be going through,” he said. “It is sad because it seems like the system would not accept us as people who have rehabilitated, and retain us for our skills and what we can contribute.” It is not just about giving ex-offenders second chances. It is also about giving them hope. At Our Singapore Conversation 2013, a dialogue held at the SANA, Mr Tan said: “We tend to forget that people make mistakes. What is important is that mistakes are learned and that everyone is given a chance to reintegrate and become a useful citizen. If society does not give them a chance, not only do they suffer, so do their families.” To this day, he stands by what he said: “What is the point of rehabilitation if they remain condemned and ostracised even after they have served out their sentence?”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Our deepest gratitude goes out to: All the ex-offenders and their family members who shared their stories with us â&#x20AC;&#x201C; thank you for trusting us, taking the time to meet with us and telling us about your experiences, struggles and beliefs. The staff of the halfway houses that opened their doors to us and helped us to understand their work, especially those of The Helping Hand, Teen Challenge and Breakthrough Missions, for being patient and accommodating our repeated visits. The organisations that shared key information that helped us further our project, especially SCORE, SANA, the Prisons, SACA, and ISCOS of the Care network. The counsellors and social workers who graciously shared about the programmes and services they are involved in. The volunteers of community and religious groups for giving us the chance to learn about their experiences. The companies and individuals who work tirelessly in their own capacities to help former inmates, for sharing their valuable insights with us. Our friends, who were always glad to offer their moral support. Our supervisor Mr Wong Kim Hoh for giving us perceptive advice and feedback along the way. Without them, this publication would not have been possible.

A JOURNALISM FEATURE FROM THE WEE KIM WEE SCHOOL OF COMMUNICATION AND INFORMATION 36