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Pattie Phillips knew she was going to jail long before anyone else. She had built a financial house of cards that was always going to collapse.
A high-flyer in the travel game, she was caught in her own Ponzi scheme – providing unsustainable discount packages to service her increasing debt, fund a lavish lifestyle and impress friends and colleagues.
She says that while the scheme was “dumb”, she was “crafty”, meaning for a time she was able to delay the inevitable.
“I knew I was going to jail, and I was researching what life would be like inside prison,” she says.
When the scheme collapsed, she was found to have embezzled $500,000. Her lawyer told her she was looking at an 18-month sentence. “I thought that was doable,” she says.
Her lawyer was optimistic. In 2014, she was sentenced to a minimum of four years’ jail.
At her lowest moment, she tried to take her own life with an overdose of pills.
Phillips has rebuilt that life by rebuilding others. For the past 10 years, she has been involved with the organisation Prison Network, first as a client, then as a mentor.
For 80 years, Prison Network has been working with female inmates, providing support and programs inside and hope on the outside.
“For those who remain in our programs the recidivism rate is 5 per cent compared with the average of 45 per cent,” says Phillips.
When she talks to prisoners inside or ex-inmates on the outside, she brings credibility because she has been in their shoes (or more accurately, their prison uniforms).
She remembers being transported to the Dame Phyllis Frost Centre and the humiliation of bending over to be strip-searched.
She says for the first six weeks she “hid” in the reception area, too frightened to venture into the mainstream prison.
Instead of counting the days, she made a decision that would change her life. “Even then, I knew I would be coming out [of prison]. On day two, I went to find what were the prospects for education,” she says.
She did the Inside Out Program, and is now completing a criminology degree.
The Inside Out Prison Exchange Program is a partnership between RMIT University and Corrections Victoria that has been running since 2015.
RMIT criminal justice students travel to one of eight prisons to learn alongside the incarcerated.
“There is a graduation ceremony where family and friends are invited to attend,” says Phillips.
Prisoners learn and gain a sense of achievement. The students get a masterclass in the real world.
Marietta Martinovic, an associate professor in criminology and justice studies at RMIT University, was working for Corrections Victoria when 20 years ago, she went to a conference in the US where several of the speakers had done time.
“I was blown away,” she says. “I learnt more from them than all my academic studies.”
She came back determined to give those on the inside a voice. “For 10 years they laughed at me and said it wouldn’t happen. I would be left crying in the gutter outside RMIT.”
When The Age spoke to her, she was on her way to a prison. She was to visit seven that week.
Jails are not like the ones we see in movies. They are filled with sad and lonely prisoners who have failed on the outside. They often refuse to acknowledge their past, and feel there is no hope in the future.
“Many just want another chance,” Martinovic says. “They want to be treated as humans. The course helps them have a voice and to get some self-confidence.
“It is up to them to change, but we help provide an avenue. Just having people who care improves self-confidence and makes people believe they can change.”
Without help, she says, we all lose when a released prisoner returns to crime.
The media concentrates on the failures – the bail jumpers, the career criminals and the violent repeat offenders.
In most cases, the successes – those who leave prison and don’t go back – are non-stories because they disappear from public view to rebuild their lives in private.
They want to hide their past as part of their rehabilitation, not to be remembered for what they did but who they are.
Phillips is one of those exceptions, using her past to help others build their futures.
In prison, nothing prepares you for release. Phillips says: “The last day was as terrifying as the first. What would life be like on the outside? Will I be able to rebuild my life?”
In a bizarre way, COVID restrictions helped. Melbourne was a ghost town. “I was used to being locked down,” says Phillips. “I would just walk the dog. Everyone was melting down but not me.”
Like most ex-inmates, she lived with the fear that her past would haunt her. First, it was personal, having to rebuild trust with family and friends. Some of those relationships could not be salvaged.
Professionally, she wanted to find a job that didn’t require a police check. “I hated that first job,” she says.
Then she took another. “Every day I would think, ‘Is this the day they will find out?’”
The Prison Network philosophy is simple: if you commit to us, we will commit to you.
Their staff will reach out and try to establish relationships as early as when an inmate is on remand. They offer courses inside jail to create options other than returning to crime and continue the role on the outside.
‘The last day was as terrifying as the first. What would life be like on the outside? Will I be able to rebuild my life?’
Pattie Phillips
“We still have clients from the Pentridge days,” Phillips says.
No one graduates or leaves the Prison Network. The former inmates are always on the books and can ask for help at any time. “Our doors are always open,” says Phillips.
Limited accommodation can be provided for 12 months, and Prison Network has just launched a dog-grooming business that employs former inmates. “Some of these women have never worked before,” says Phillips. “It is not a forever job but a start.”
The crime debate has always been dominated by emotions. Offenders largely commit crime out of anger, greed, envy and stupidity. Victims respond with fear and anger.
The media taps into the anger and demands tougher penalties and longer sentences. Politicians respond with tough-on-crime statements.
The Victorian government has announced a review of sentencing laws, saying they don’t meet community expectations. It is an election year and this means only one thing: longer jail terms (at least in the statute books).
No one has won an election with a series of rehabilitation policies.
But of Victoria’s 6000 inmates, only a dozen are sentenced to never be released, which means we have to develop methods to try to keep prisoners from reoffending and returning to jail.
It is not about being tough or soft but being smart on crime. In prison, there is a fork in the road. One way is to reintegrate into the community. The other is to become a worse crook. It is best for everyone if they take the high road.
In 2007, the prison population of Texas was about 150,000 and projected to increase by 17,700 over five years. The state planned to build three prisons costing $530 million.
Republican Jerry Madden was put in charge. “We worked out there were two types of inmates: those we are afraid of and those we are mad at,” he said. “Those we are afraid of should be kept inside.”
He developed a system to identify the inmates who were willing to change and to then pour resources into them.
“We worked with them because you want them to be better when they walk out than when they walked in.”
Madden and Democrat John Whitmire worked to improve addiction treatment, boost education and rebuild the juvenile justice system.
It is the same here, with some of our nastiest crooks having been brutalised in juvenile institutions.
Instead of prison numbers increasing by more than 17,000 in Texas, they dropped by 3000 and the state has been able to close three jails. Crime and arrest rates have dropped.
Phillips was on a cross-trainer in the prison when she was approached by a Prison Network support worker. “My first reaction was, ‘Who is this person? Get away from me’,” she says.
It was a slow and gentle process. There were conversations over a craft table without a hard sell or a mission statement. “What would life look like when I got out? We talked about housing and employment options,” Phillips says.
She became a volunteer for Prison Network and then a full-time lived-experience co-ordinator in 2021.
When she talks to inmates or former prisoners, her background gives her immediate credibility. She spent years in those cells and knows the moments of dark despair.
“When you see that people can succeed, it gives you hope that the past doesn’t define you. You can make a new identity,” she says.
She says there are three keys to success for a former prisoner. “You need housing, employment and a community around you.”
Pattie Phillips is passionate, smart and committed. As a criminal, she hurt people. As a former inmate, she has more than paid back society.
As part of Law Week (May 18-24), Prison Network and Beyond The Stone Walls Advisory Collectives are offering one-on-one, 30-minute conversations with people who have served time or worked inside prisons to share their experiences.
https://www.viclawweek.org.au/program
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