The voice on the phone sputtered with tears. It was Neil (not his real name). He said he would be leaving prison in one week. After three decades he would be free. On the other end, Pascal began to weep. Neil asked Pascal if he would pick him up.
Pascal said, “No problem.”
“It’s gonna feel weird getting into a vehicle without handcuffs on,” Neil said.
“I can bring some if you want,” Pascal replied, grinning into the receiver.
Pascal Adam is a volunteer coordinator with M2/W2 Association, and he has been working with people in prison for over 28 years. He met Neil almost eight years ago at Kent Institution.
Not all prison experiences are alike, yet they are usually life altering and filled with trauma and pain. Neil’s years inside were underpinned by anger, isolation, and deep uncertainty: He often wondered if he would ever leave. He was denied parole again and again—as recently as last year.
Then, this past January, he learned he would be released. The Crown had overturned an application that would’ve kept Neil behind bars for an additional two years. Instead, his warrant would expire and he would be free, albeit without much time to prepare.
“Corrections kept saying, ‘This is the way you’ll always be. You’ll never change,’” Neil said. “I had the best reports and they still wouldn’t move me on. I said, ‘I’ve done 30 years. Let me adjust.’ I was plopped on the street.”
Plastic Money and Other Surprises
Over coffee, six weeks after Neil’s release, Pascal described greeting Neil outside Mission Institution on a Friday afternoon. “He was holding the cash he withdrew from his prison account, and he said, ‘This is not money. What is this?’”
After 31 years of incarceration, synthetic polymer bank notes weren’t the only surprise awaiting Neil.
“I had to learn everything,” Neil said, gesturing toward his smartphone. “This phone drives me crazy. There’s so much going on. Everything is online. You gotta remember all these codes and passwords.”
The first time he used his debit card, he was apprehensive. “The clerk gave me a look that said, Where have you been?”
Pascal helped Neil arrange housing, get a phone, open a bank account, and apply for PharmaCare, among other things. “If it wasn’t for Pascal, this would’ve taken me ten times as long,” Neil said.
He explained how some people in the community—a bank teller, the phone store guy, his nurse—went out of their way to help him. “It gives me encouragement that people are seeing that I’ve changed. I’ve been told for so long that I’m nobody.”
“Most people don’t understand the mental setbacks people experience when they leave prison,” Pascal said. “But it gives me hope when you see people who are willing to help.”
Neil is receiving treatment for a number of health concerns. He suffers from arthritis in his hands, and requires surgery to repair his shoulders. “Sometimes it’s hard to put a shirt on. It’s hard to walk with groceries in a bag. I ache all night and day after that.”
While he was at Mission, he contracted COVID-19. “I was very sick. I lost 34 pounds. I still haven’t recovered. My memory is gone. I get fatigued quickly. It’s frustrating because I am new at the world and it’s hard enough, but when you have a learning disability and this virus, it makes it twice as hard.”
To help people transition from prison, Neil sees a need for a better support system. “There should be a team set up when you come out: a social worker, health care worker, food, housing. One group sitting at a table saying, ‘This guy is coming out. You know what you need to do to help him. Let’s get it done.’”
Freedom and Fears
As he prepared for his release, Neil had a lot on his mind. He worried about being homeless in the middle of winter, finding a doctor or nurse, dealing with money, and living in a new city. “I thought, I’m scared to death. I want to make it so bad and I’ve got all these roadblocks. I’m gonna have to take them one at a time. The first thing I need is housing. Where do I go?”
Pascal said, “I told Neil the first day he was out, ‘I’ve dedicated this day to you.’ We didn’t finish doing all his business until seven o’clock.”
“We went to Hidden Treasures,” Neil said, “and they gave me clothing to get me going, a watch. Pascal brought some sheets. It means a lot.”
“If Herta and I hadn’t brought the sheets, he would’ve slept on a bare mattress,” said Pascal.
“I was just happy to be out,” Neil said.
Pascal chuckled. “I keep telling him, ‘If you really feel out of place, I’ll come and lock you in your room for a bit.’”
‘Trust and Patience and Prayer’
When Neil first heard about M2/W2, he wasn’t interested. Over time, he realized that meeting regularly with a volunteer might ease his loneliness. “I started to feel like I needed someone to talk to, but I thought I didn’t deserve anybody so I felt guilty for applying to M2/W2. The first couple of times, I thought, Nah, I can’t do this. I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t deserve it. Then I was talking to someone and they said, ‘Let them make the decision to come and see you or not.’ And I thought, Okay.”
Neil figures it took him at least five years before he opened up to his volunteer mentors, Connie and Gerrit DeJong.
“Anywhere I seemed to go, Connie and Gerrit showed up. It was pretty nice to have that.”
“We learned that trust is something to be earned,” Gerrit said, via email, “trust and patience and prayer.”
Since Neil’s release, Gerrit and Connie have stayed in touch with Neil over the phone and write letters every month. “He has friends he can count on.” Gerrit said. “We hope and pray this pandemic will soon end and we can visit with him regularly.”
‘A Lifesaver’
These days, Neil finds joy in everyday things. “I go for a walk and I’m just amazed. I take my time and I take it in. I go to a cafe and look at people. I can buy a coffee when I want. I’ve got my music, I’ve got my guitar. I’ve got a few good friends—what more do you need?”
Neil currently resides in a rooming house, but the situation isn’t ideal. “I still don’t feel like I’ve got my own identity living like that.”
He is quick to recognize that finding affordable housing is difficult, a task that requires patience and planning.
“I’ve got a chance because I’ve got my own mind and I don’t give up. I’m gonna make it and I will ask for help. I will phone everybody until I get that help.”
It’s certain that “everybody” includes Gerrit and Connie, as well as Pascal, whom Neil called “a lifesaver.”
Pascal continues to work with Neil as he takes practical steps toward building a successful life in the community. In addition to being an advocate, Pascal offers his encouragement and friendship. He reminds Neil how far he’s come. “To me he’s like gold,” Pascal said.
As Neil becomes more accustomed to life outside—to smartphones, plastic money, and endless passwords—he keeps looking ahead. In the coming months, he will have surgery on his shoulders, and, once the pandemic ends, he hopes to connect with others in the community. He’s prepared to walk a narrow path. “I won’t compromise for anyone,” he said.
When he needs someone to talk to, Neil knows he can turn to Pascal: “He always reminds me that the world revolves around me,” Neil smiled. “We have some good laughs.”
This story originally appears in the Spring 2021 issue of our newsletter.