A Moment's Reflection

Every now and then something happens to make you stop and reflect. I found myself walking through the big city recently on my way home. As with most cities, there are people begging and I was vaguely aware of a bundle sat on the pavement. As a strode past I momentarily caught his eye as he peered from beneath a baseball cap. By now several yards beyond him I suddenly realised he looked vaguely familiar. Could it really be the young man I'd supervised some 25 or more years previously as a very new Probation Officer?

He'd been one of my first cases when still living at home with his mother and truanting regularly. He wasn't getting into serious trouble but in those days we took on all sorts if the courts were worried about someone. He'd suffered years of abuse from a violent step-father and would often run away from home. He'd spent some time in childrens homes and run away from them too because of the bullying. I got to know him well over the following years as his contact with more criminally intent lads inevitably meant his offending increased.

I found him bright, pleasant and engaging, but hardly ever smiled. He's the only client to have ever given me a Christmas present, several pairs of socks in a gift basket I recall. During his first spell in YOI I remember his artistic flair really came to the fore and his reputation for pencil sketching meant he was in demand by inmates and prison staff alike eager to have their likenesses immortalised for friends and family. If I think about it now, this was the only time I saw this lad happy and content. He had real artistic ability which I remember envying enormously. 

Time moved on and I eventually found myself writing reports for Crown Court and visiting him in adult prison. I remember being devastated at hearing he'd tried to hang himself and during a subsequent episode of self harm had severed the tendons in his wrist. I know he's never sketched since. He moved away to the big city and my contact ended, but I admit I used to have a look on CRAMS now and then in order to see how he was doing. Invariably it was not good. Addicted to heroin and alcohol, he had become increasingly violent and time after time couldn't settle in hostels and so was pretty permanently on the streets.

When he eventually recognised me the other day he said he had just come out from an eighteen month stretch and in classic understatement volunteered that 'things aren't good at the moment.' If truth be known, things haven't been 'good' for this person for a very long time indeed. It never proved possible to get the expert psychological assessment and counselling that I always knew he needed. Such facilities where I work are almost non-existent. Now with virtually no teeth and resigned to life on the streets, I'm relieved to see he's still alive, but also reminded of a very uncomfortable fact. Pretty much his adult lifespan has mirrored my professional career, and to what effect? One of the hardest parts of this job is accepting sometimes not being able to make a damned difference no matter how hard you try.