PRISON CAN BE A BLESSING FOR CRIMINALS

Many years ago now, I spent three or four days hanging out with a
heroin junkie/prostitute in the notorious Parkdale neighbourhood of
Toronto.

The Toronto Sun was doing a multi-part feature on various drugs
plaguing the city and I was assigned to cover heroin -- its
decreasing price and increasing potency, which led to skyrocketing
overdose deaths.

That's how I met Sam, whom I called Jackie for the piece. She and her
"boyfriend" Danny gave me complete access to their lives. Early in
the morning I would climb up the fire escape of the brick walkup they
lived in, crawl through their living room window and wait for them to
wake up to observe their heroin-hazy day.

Sam worked the streets selling her body to feed her and Danny's $600-
a-day heroin addiction.

Her life was a vicious circle of turning tricks to get a fix and
needing a fix to turn the tricks.

Oddly enough, Sam and I became friends -- we shared a lot of laughs,
some tears and I listened to her dreams. I always made sure to
encourage her dreams because that's really all she had left -- that
and a costly habit, a lousy boyfriend and her then five-year-old
daughter, who had been taken from her and was being raised by members
of her family.

But people like Sam aren't easy to keep in touch with, since most --
like Sam -- don't have phones. So, when I moved to Calgary in 1993,
we lost contact.

Then, in 2001 I got a voicemail from her that so cheered my heart I
recorded it off the phone and still have it.

"I'm doing great," said Sam. "I just graduated from college, I've had
my daughter for five years, been clean for six years and I would just
love to talk to you ..." said Sam on that message.

I called her back and she told me her story.

After years of being arrested and released, arrested and released,
Sam was eventually arrested and bail was set at a much higher price
than usual. Sam was charged and held in jail until her trial.

"Jail," said Sam, "was a blessing in disguise."

Sam was given nothing but Gravol to help her through her withdrawal,
which she described as "hell". But by the end of her time in jail,
Sam had kicked her heroin habit.

In short, Sam's story tells many stories, but let's focus on one:
Jail time in Canada is often a good thing.

Prison time -- particularly federal prison time -- can be the kindest
thing we can do for a person who has lost their way.

A while back, I developed a friendship with a young man named Dale.

Dale was in and out of jail for most of his teen and young-adult
life. One time I recall reading about Dale doing something worse than
stealing a car and I remember thinking, "I hope Dale gets a federal
penitentiary sentence (two-years-plus-a-day or more) instead of
provincial time." Not because I wished him ill but because I wished
him well.

Despite what many Canadians believe -- and the media is partly to
blame for this -- the Correctional Service of Canada does great work.
Sure it's galling when we learn of murderers having parties and
getting bacon-wrapped filet mignon.

But on the whole, CSC turns anti-social, dangerous people who are
sentenced to be released back into society into better citizens.

There has been much hand-wringing going on over the federal
Conservative government's plan to do what it (and the Liberals and
NDs) said it would do during the election campaign -- that is to
bring in mandatory minimum sentences for those convicted of
committing crimes with a firearm.

I believe a five-year minimum sentence for the first firearm
conviction is a bit steep but have been assured by a source in this
minority government that they're just leaving room for inevitable
pressure to lower the minimum sentences.

Ultimately, however, if this law passes, people convicted of
committing crimes with guns will be assured federal jail time.

That's not just a good thing for society, it's a good thing for the
convict as well. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.