Seeing My Younger Brother In Prison Has Made Me Want More Out Of Malta’s Justice System
Never in a million years would I have thought that, in my mid-twenties, I would have to witness my baby brother getting out of a police car with handcuffs on and being escorted into the Courts of Justice by police officers. The mental image of my mother’s face that day, hanging in disappointment and pain, is something I shall carry with me forever, as it was on that day that I lost both of them to a tiring, heartbreaking battle, that is still very much ongoing.
It is a common assumption that drug addiction only happens to people who have had a “difficult upbringing”, or who have come from a “poor” or “underprivileged” background. But I can assure you, that assumption is far from the truth, and that anyone is susceptible to it. My father worked hard to put us through private school, and the education we received was stellar. However, my parents had a messy break up, and that’s when my brother started acting up. Separation was not common at the time, and we were suddenly given the freedom to do as we pleased. This rapid shift in discipline meant that my brother started hanging out with the wrong crowd, which eventually led him to dabble in drugs at a young age. The experimenting led to a habit, which ultimately led to an addiction, which led him to turn to crime in order to support it.
The first time I visited my brother in prison, I was shocked at the complete lack of security that there was to enter the premises. I received a simple, light, inattentive patting (that was breaching on neglect), and before I knew it, I was inside prison grounds, without being thoroughly checked and potentially carrying any substance or item I pleased. And this lack of security was extremely evident when I met my brother, because as soon as I sat down with him, I instantly knew that he was severely under the influence of drugs. He was clearly dazed, his fingers were stained and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.
He was in there, doing time for his crimes, but was being constantly supplied with the very substance that landed him there in the first place. What hope was there for his rehabilitation?
I probed him quietly to see who had been supplying him with drugs, but as he slurred through black teeth, it became evident that he was not in a position to communicate properly. It eventually became clear that drugs were being given to him in prison, and that all manner of substances were very easily accessible within prison grounds… of course, against a highly-inflated payment.
Now, I wasn’t born yesterday. I had heard that drugs were rife in prison, but seeing it in person, and happening to someone I loved, in a place where he was supposed to be finding help, infuriated me. He was in there, doing time for his crimes, but was being constantly supplied with the very substance that landed him there in the first place. What hope was there for his rehabilitation?
Soon after this, my brother got diagnosed with bipolar disorder. This was an adverse reaction to the years of abuse he had put his body through with the drugs he had taken. The criminal justice system tossed my brother back and forth between prison and the forensic unit in Mount Carmel, supposedly to help him deal with his mental disorder and the crimes he had committed as a result of his addiction. Mount Carmel was no better than prison, and I was repulsed by their quick fix; subduing the bipolar disorder by giving him multiple pills a day, which in turn created another addiction. Pharmaceuticals were used to control my brother, concealing his condition instead of curing it. I remember my mother tirelessly fighting for him to get private psychological help in there, to no avail. The doctors provided by the prison would only see him once a month and would only prescribe pills; they weren’t interested in any form of talk therapy. They just needed to keep my brother ‘under control’.
The taboo surrounding drugs and incarceration scared me and my family so much, that the fear of being judged stopped us from feeling free to seek help, from voicing our opinions, or talking about this situation openly for years.
I am well aware that one cannot offer help to an addict who does not want to be helped. But surely, if the system can enforce a harsh penalty sentence on a person, that same system should be able to facilitate a rehabilitation process to that same person. Such a program could introduce methadone to ease any withdrawal sickness, while allowing the inmate to get psychological help, participate in activities and have access to educational facilities, which shall in turn give inmates a second chance when they are back in the real word.
As for my brother, drug dependency is very often connected to deep rooted problems which need to be addressed. Such support programs should also involve the inmate’s families, who are also suffering in silence and confusion.
The taboo surrounding drugs and incarceration scared me and my family so much, that the fear of being judged stopped us from feeling free to seek help, from voicing our opinions, or talking about this situation openly for years. I felt numb, hurt, confused, ashamed and helpless. Now I am old enough to understand that this unfortunate situation is incredibly hard to handle, and there needs to be a reform in the criminal justice system which supports those suffering from mental health problems or addiction, as well as their families, in a more constructive and rehabilitative manner. Going to see my brother in prison drained me and my family so much, feeling like I was hit by a ton of bricks after each visit. The feeling would stay with me for weeks, and be amplified by the continuous guilt of not having the energy to go see him or be there for him. I dealt with it by escaping and minimising my presence in his life, not knowing how else to deal with it. I still admire (and partly pity) my mother who still has so much faith and hope in him and his ability to change.
Programs will help them get back out in society and be better and contributing citizens. The very bare minimum is spent on such facilities because unfortunately money has become the primary goal of this society, which has led to great neglect of such facilities that generate little money. Sadly, this is an indifferent system which portrays prisoners as an economic burden, and not as humans who need help to fight their crimes and addiction.
I feel that the Maltese system practically guarantees that addicts end up repeatedly resorting to crime… and eventually, returning to prison.
I am frankly disgusted at the lack of support these addicts in prison receive. Ideally, our correctional system should focus on rehabilitation over punishment. Wouldn’t we all prefer inmates with addiction to have a chance of being released stronger than when they were put in prison? Wouldn’t we rather have them pay their debt to society by getting a job and paying taxes, as opposed to using taxpayer’s money to keep them locked up? It still blows my mind how the judicial system and associated laws has shown no evidence of improvement, but are simply kept as they are because they affect a minority of the Maltese population. One would think it should not be so hard to implement a reform for a mere 600 people.
Research has shown that there are more humane methods to approaching situations such as these which have proven to be so much more beneficial to society when compared to our penalty system. Regrettably, I feel that the Maltese system practically guarantees that addicts end up repeatedly resorting to
crime… and eventually, returning to prison. Other methods demonstrate that addicts are offered the aid to reintegrate into society. Malta’s model only further isolates and segregates these individuals, throwing them into a vicious cycle of eventual prison and necessary crime.
This article is in no way excusing my brother for his actions. I strongly believe that he should be punished for the mistakes he has made, and that he is disciplined for his actions. But the approach towards this ‘discipline’ needs to be entirely different. Our system must develop to be one built on healing and humanity, not isolation and punishment, a system which can guide and support, instead of waiting for a repeat performance, which ends behind bars.
Why do we find such difficulty implementing such a system here? Possibly, because of our indifferences towards addiction and addicts. And maybe because of our obvious lack of awareness on mental health issues and their importance. And finally, because of our possible lack of compassion for our fellow human beings.
Yet, could it be done in Malta? I would think so.
But, where would we begin?
There is so much more that I would like to express and state, but the fear of the repercussions that could happen to me and my family stops me.
Changing such a complex, archaic system is no simple task, yet I hope to slowly raise more awareness on the issue, which eventually might find possible ways in implementing small, yet meaningful changes to the system. Because before one can fix the problems in a system, one must first make society aware of the problem. No problem ever got solved with people’s mouth shut.
What will it take for us to change the prison system to help these victims get slowly back to society? Regrettably, I know what the answer to that question is: a prison system that will make the government more money.
Perhaps it is time to quit thinking and take action. There is so much more that I would like to express and state, but the fear of the repercussions that could happen to me and my family stops me. We supposedly live in a democracy, and we should feel free to speak our minds, but for change to take place one must speak up. But for one to speak up, one must not be fearful.
I initially wanted to publish this article on my name, but faced a lot of resistance because of my brother’s safety since his cases have not been closed yet due to the prolonged and draining law system we have in Malta.
There is so much more that I would like to express and state, but the fear of the repercussions that could happen to me and my family stops me.
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