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Sheppey has the biggest concentration of prisoners in Britain but little is known about what goes on behind those closed doors. This week, in the second of a regular series of features, the Rev John Letley gives us the Inside Story on life as a prison chaplain. Emma Grove reports.
AFTER working at HMP Swaleside for more than five years, the Rev John Letley says he would like to be able to bottle what they have in the prison and hand it out.
With 31 different faiths registered there, he says it proves people from all religions can live alongside without being at each others’ throats.
John is a Roman Catholic chaplain at the jail and works alongside colleagues from a range of faiths.
His involvement with the church started as a parishioner and eventually he became more involved and his faith grew.
In June 2004, he was ordained to work in his parish in Strood and during that time was given the chance to try prison ministry at Swaleside.
He started full-time at the prison in November 2006.
Although sometimes it can be hard, according to John, prison chaplaincy provides wonderful opportunities.
He said: “This is without doubt, throughout all my working life, the best and most rewarding job I have ever had.
“I’m doing God’s work – I’m helping the men here that are in my care.”
John and two of his colleagues – a Muslim Imam and Church of England chaplain – have a host of responsibilities and every day of the year one of them is the duty chaplain.
This person has three daily legal responsibilities – visiting inmates in the segregation units, prisoners in health care and new inmates who have arrived in the last 24 hours – regardless of their religion.
But their duties go far beyond these.
They are also involved in pastoral care and the person on duty will be called if a prisoner asks to see a chaplain – unless they specifically want to see someone from their own faith.
It is also their responsibility to tell prisoners news from home such as serious illness or death of a relative, which John says can be tough.
He said: “The hardest thing about the job is giving people news of a death and the saddest time is when it’s one of their children or a younger member of their family.
“If they were on the outside they would be surrounded by relatives getting involved in arrangements but in prison there’s nothing they can do – they are helpless.
“They are not quite family [to me] but they certainly are parishioners and you do care for them.”
After a number of years in his position, John says he isn’t shocked by anything any more and can only remember being really shocked once when he first started.
He said: “When a prisoner, who I had only ever seen in the confines of the chapel before, told me what he had done – my jaw dropped – it was very violent.
“But you do become hardened to it – it doesn’t make a difference to me what they have done.
“I’m not the judge, God is the judge.
“I don’t judge between murderers and drug dealers or wife beaters – they are just men that come to us.
“Sometimes people tell me stories and I think there hasn’t been justice but we have to deal with what the courts have sentenced.”
John, who often works more than 50 hours a week, and some of his colleagues are on the prison’s senior management team, which he believes is vital so they are awarre what has been happening in the previous 24 hours.
He said there are many reasons why prisoners will decide they want to come and talk to the chaplaincy and it is often to talk about something which has really made them think about their faith.
Sometimes this is when they have seen something about the outside world on the news which has worried them.
John said: “What you tend to find is that people rediscover their roots and because they have time on their hands they want to and are able to learn more about their faith.
“You hear an awful lot about the communities on the outside and how all the different faiths are so divided and at each others’ throats.
“If you could bottle what we have in prison and sprinkle it outside... I’m not saying it’s all sweetness and light in here but in general terms it’s pretty relaxed and placid and everybody gets along.
“Everybody has the right, wherever they are, to practise their faith.
“You never know, by allowing them to practise while they are in here, it might just be the thing that stops them re-offending.”