Not My Crime: Still my Sentence

Hezzie’s Story

The day my dad got sentenced was the day I had my A level drama performance exam. My mom was there but I wanted my dad there as well. He was supposed to be there. After my exam was over I just cried. I wanted my dad like everyone else in my class. It wasn’t fair. Why had this happened to me? That night there was a party to celebrate end of exams. I just drank until I couldn’t feel anymore.

The worst part of it all was the fact I couldn’t tell anyone. How do you say my dad is prison? I was scared of being judged and I didn’t want anyone bad mouthing my dad. I told few people who understood. I hated the question I was often asked, “Do you think he’s innocent?” I never had an answer at first. All my family and people who cared about my dad claimed his innocence but there was always that feeling that he wasn’t. Of course as the years went by and I had come to understand the situation that feeling stopped being there but you could always tell that some people would question it. The worst part was when I realised how mentally ill he was at the time of his offence and conviction. How could they lock him up? He shouldn’t be in prison in that state.

I was studying Forensic Psychology and I just kept comparing everything to my dad. When we studied rape it was hard because my dad didn’t fit any of the types of rapist. In a way it would have been easier if it was simple and he was in prison for robbery and there was actual evidence.

It was 2009 when my dad was sent to prison. It was the year I went to university. I wanted my dad there but he couldn’t be there for me. I remember seeing everyone’s parents helping their children move into student accommodation and I just felt my dad should have been there to see me off. I wrote to my dad while he was in prison and I loved getting his letters but it was just horrible that I couldn’t pick up the phone or see him when I wanted.

The first time I went and saw my dad in prison was horrible. I was happy to see him but I didn’t want to leave. By the time you are searched and wait to be called through there would often only be half the visiting time left. I wanted him to come home and that’s what I hated. The end of the visit. I hated crying anyway so I just had to bottle it all up. I was always reluctant to go because for the first few times I didn’t know whether I wanted to see him or not. Then I always felt guilty.

It never got any easier but I kind of just got used to the whole situation. The final year of his sentence my dad could go to an open prison. This was great because we could go out and about with him on town visits and he sometimes came home at weekends. It also meant he could come to my graduation. It was an amazing feeling because I wanted to make my dad proud. Even though he couldn’t be there during my time at university at least he could see my accomplishment. I loved the day as well when he finally got released and we could pick him up and take him home for good.

Even though he isn’t in prison anymore it was hard having to see my dad start from scratch with his life because he was pretty successful before. Even though I know it’s been hard for him I’m proud he is my dad and setting up a charity that will help others who have come out of prison.

Hezzie