“Living with life”: Experiences of families of people serving a life sentence in Western Australia

Abstract

This paper contributes to the growing body of scholarship related to the impact of imprisonment on families, from the particular perspective of parents, siblings and other close relatives of people serving a life sentence. We argue that those family members are often overlooked in research and service provision, while bearing the burden of the association with the offender. This is particularly problematic for relatives of life sentenced prisoners, having to cope with the seriousness of the offence, and the uncertainty of the perspectives of release. Based on 17 interviews conducted in Western Australia, we discuss family members’ confrontation with and experiences throughout the criminal justice system. We report on how they manage to “live with life” and which coping mechanisms they developed. Our findings call for more investment into the matter, to generate a scholarship for a better understanding of and supporting initiatives for those close relatives.

Introduction

While there is a growing body of research and literature on the impact of imprisonment on families (Condry & Scharff Smith, 2018), looking at recent scholarship in this area, we notice a specific focus on partners of prisoners (De Claire et al., 2020; Kotova, 2015), their children and the impact of intergenerational trauma (Arditti, 2016; Besemer et al., 2019; Halsey & De Vel-Palumbo, 2020; Minson, 2020; Saunders, 2018; Sharratt et al., 2018). There is limited scholarship on other family members, such as parents and siblings, how they experience the confrontation with the criminal justice system and how it affects them (McCarthy & Adams, 2019). Jardine (2020) refers in that respect to “families of origin” – instead of “families of formation”. The lack of focus on parents is remarkable, as it has been recognised that parents are more likely to maintain contact with imprisoned children, with the continued care most likely to fall on mothers (Adams & McCarthy, 2022; Gueta, 2018). Further, adult parental relationships with children differ considerably to spousal relationships due to their nature, roles, dynamics and expectations (McCarthy & Adams, 2019). Therefore, while some experiences may be generalisable from partner literature, the extent to which they apply to the family of origin, and how the confrontation with the criminal justice system influences their everyday lives, remains largely unknown.

In addition, most of the current research explores finite sentences. The impact of imprisonment carries an extra dimension when the family member is sentenced to a life sentence, as we are looking at a very long stretch of detention and without the perspective of a final date for release. As a result, many romantic relationships do not “survive” the life imprisonment (Kotova, 2015), while the family of origin (parental/sibling) relationship endures and becomes pivotal in supporting the person in prison and after release. This is particularly the case for younger offenders who are less likely to have established stable intimate relationships and tend to rely on parents and siblings (Adams & McCarthy, 2022). We therefore argue that, particularly in the case of life sentences, the family of origin is a crucial “resource” and at the same time overlooked and unsupported.

The situation is even more pertinent in Western Australia, as the Sentence Administration Act 2003 (WA) determines that, even if the Prisoners Review Board makes a recommendation to release a prisoner to parole, the final decision is made by the Governor in consultation with the Executive Council, on the recommendation of the Minister. This is not the case in other Australian jurisdictions, except for the Australian Capital Territory, as the relevant parole authority is usually the final arbiter of the decision-making process. As there are about 300 life-sentenced people in Western Australian prisons – this is about 30% of all lifers in Australia – a multiplication of that number in family members are hereby affected. In an earlier paper, we argued how the present regulation is problematic and in urgent need of review (see Seah et al., 2022). In this article, we explore the broader impact of life imprisonment on parents, siblings and other close relatives.

The “Living with Life” project arose from the initiative of some life-sentenced prisoners and their parents, contacting us to support their case for parole reform for life-sentenced prisoners in Western Australia. To better assist these families, we turned to the literature for advice, which is when the lack of scholarly information became apparent. Therefore, we embarked on this exploratory, unfunded research project, in both an attempt to fill a gap in scholarship and to contribute to penal reform. The research aims to increase awareness for the experiences of families of origin with life-sentenced relatives and to provide an insight into their needs.

Overview of the literature

As our interest is focused on research related to families, especially parents and siblings, of life-sentenced prisoners, our search returned very little. The only research we could find ticking both boxes is the United Kingdom-based research of Harry Annison and Rachel Condry (in collaboration with others) on indeterminate sentences for Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP) (Annison, 2015; Annison & Condry, 2018, 2019, 2022). IPP was created by the Labour government in England and Wales in 2003 and implemented in 2005. It was intended to target “individuals who posed a ‘significant risk of serious harm’ to the public but whose immediate offence did not merit a life sentence” (Annison & Condry, 2019, p. 10). The sentence encompasses two parts: a non-parole (minimum tariff) period reflecting the seriousness of the offence, and an indeterminate period of imprisonment until the parole board decides that the prisoner no longer needs to be imprisoned for the protection of the public. After release, the person will be on license indefinitely but can apply to the parole board to have the license removed after 10 years. IPP was amended in 2008 and abolished in 2012, as it was accepted by the then Justice Secretary “that it was fundamentally unfair in principle and unworkable in practice” (Annison & Condry, 2019, p. 10), however, not retrospectively. As a result, there were still 1,394 unreleased IPP prisoners in custody in England and Wales on 31 December 2022, as well as 1,498 recalled IPP prisoners, totalling 2,892 people in prison with this sentence (Beard, 2023).

Annison and Condry (2018) reported on their initial research findings based on 119 online survey responses and in-depth interviews with 15 family members (mainly blood relatives and close partners) of IPP-sentenced prisoners. They described feelings of injustice about the in-principle but non-retrospective abolition of IPP and the uncertainty about release, creating, at the same time, hope and hopelessness. They also describe the families' experiences with key organisations and the effects of IPP on families. In a later article, these effects are distinct between mediators causing these effects (such as stigma, guilt and shame) and moderators, creating relief or worsening these effects (such as family and individual resilience, welfare policies and social work) (Annison & Condry, 2019).

Reporting on a second, interrelated project, Straub and Annison (2020) discuss the (mental health) impact of parole, based on collaborative workshops with families (n = 12) of prisoners serving IPP. The impact on families is referred to as “secondary pains of imprisonment” and “symbiotic harms”, which is general for all families of prisoners, but the indeterminacy of IPP exacerbates this. They concluded that the parole process brings additional stress and mental strain, not only for the prisoner, but also for their family. Each parole hearing is like a “now or never” situation as the period before being eligible for a new application is so long (two years). They described it as a difficult journey between high hopes and disappointment. Even after release, there is the stress that the IPP sentence can always – or at least for 10 years – be recalled.

In a recent publication, Annison and Condry (2022) look at the interaction between campaigning “from below” and policy change, based on in-depth interviews with IPP families advocating for change (n = 15) and senior policy participants (n = 9). They describe how, over time, there is a growing recognition of the problematic nature of remaining IPP sentences in news coverage and by high-profile (former) political and criminal justice officials – reframing them as “victims of a failing system”. However, this campaigning was not always without burden for the families: it involves extensive time and effort, emotional and psychological strain, as individual details are being exposed and internal discussion about the best ways to approach the campaign. Moreover, their action did not lead to substantive legislative reform, changes being limited to the development of “Information” and “Guidance” documents. This is described as the result of politicians protecting themselves and the system towards a “fearful public riled up by a punitive tabloid media” (Annison & Condry, 2022, p. 1265). This is what the authors refer to as “the pains of hope”: wounds were re-opened, expectations raised and families were left once again with empty hands.

Also of interest, however only ticking one of the boxes, is the meta-analysis of qualitative studies on the experience of prisoners’ parents from Keren Gueta (2018). According to Gueta, research into the experiences of prisoners’ parents is only now beginning to emerge. Using qualitative metasynthesis, Gueta identified and analysed 10 studies from the United Kingdom (four), the United States (three), Australia (two) and Portugal (one). From our perspective, the most relevant is a United Kingdom-based study from 2000 on the stigma experienced by families of people convicted for murder (May, 2000). The research is based on interviews with 15 close relatives (mothers, fathers, siblings, aunt and cousins) of eight people in prison and focuses on the experience of stigma and how to manage it. While rather old, we decided to include this research due to its relevance to our own work.

Finally, there is some anecdotal evidence in a recent special issue of the Prison Service Journal looking at life imprisonment. One of the contributions discusses the needs of families of prisoners serving a long sentence, including life. Based on a review of research in this field, the authors describe the impact of “time” – as in waiting for something, feeling stuck in limbo, no sense of moving on and waiting in hope for a positive change (Adams & McCarthy, 2022). In an earlier article, the authors discuss the parental responsibility of primary caregivers of young adolescents in prison, including for a life sentence (McCarthy & Adams, 2019).

Methodology

This study utilised a qualitative phenomenological methodology. Qualitative data is essential to understand the life imprisonment process from the family member's perspective. A phenomenological approach was applied as it is best suited to discovering the similarities or discrepancies in lived experiences of people in a particular situation. This approach allowed us to build a better understanding of the particularity of the impact of a life sentence on a family member.

Recruitment

The project received ethics approval from Edith Cowan University (2022-02354). Participants were contacted via the Prisoners Justice Reform Group, a group of parents of life-sentenced prisoners, rallying for reform of the parole procedure in Western Australia. start asking the participant to self-select whether to contact the researchers via email, phone directly or request an email introduction via the group administrators. Once contact had been initiated, one of the researchers sent an invitation email including a Participant Information Form to fully inform potential participants of the study aims and their involvement. The participants were asked to nominate a date and time and mode of interview (face to face/online). On three occasions, the initial contact did not eventuate in an interview, and after some follow-up, the researcher would send a final reminder and let go.

It was acknowledged that the sample included participants who were vulnerable due to their family situation. Therefore, the interviewer would start asking the participant to talk about their family, which for most, was a happy memory to share, allowing the participant to become comfortable with the researcher. They were informed that they could withdraw from the interview at any time, and we left them the information sheet containing a list of counselling services and a referral to the Prisoner Reform Group. After each interview, time was taken to debrief and discuss other topics. While the interviews were often emotional, all participants reported relief from being able to share their story, as they often felt as they had no one to turn to. Where possible, the interviewers followed up with a thank-you email the next day.

Limitations and further research

In presenting these findings, it is acknowledged that the sample size of 17 participants is limited, which is not unusual looking at similar research. May (2000) discussed how it took 21 months to get to 15 interviewees, as most potential respondents were unwilling to risk social exposure. This project was helped in that respect by the support from the Prisoners Justice Reform Group, which might come with a possible bias as this action group might attract only certain parents/families. Moreover, interviewees were only those who still had (good) relationships with their relative in prison (May, 2000). Further, a majority of the participants are women, as they seemed to be predominantly in charge of the caretaking, which was also noted in related research (Annison & Condry, 2019; Condry, 2007; May, 2000) and is referred to as the gendered pains of life imprisonment (Crewe et al., 2017b). The research is – as most of this research – based on a “snapshot” approach (Condry & Minson, 2021) and might therefore not capture the full picture.

Interviews

We conducted narrative interviews with a purposive sample of 17 respondents from 12 families with a close relative serving a life sentence. The interviews were led by the invitation to share their experiences before the person was arrested, during the confrontation with the criminal justice system, what happened after conviction, and imprisonment, and how that impacted on their personal life and family.

Participants could elect to be interviewed either face to face, online via Teams or via phone. Face-to-face interviews were conducted with eight participants, and nine participated via Teams. The interviews typically lasted between half an hour and an hour. The final sample consisted of seven mothers, three fathers, four sisters, two cousins and one (post-conviction) partner. All were over 18 years of age, 14 women, and three men participated in the research.

All of the incarcerated family members were male, and most were in their (early) 20s at the time of the offence (with a range of 21–36 at the time of conviction). They all received a life sentence with a non-parole period of between 15 and 25 years, and most had still a long time to serve at the time of the interviews (between seven and 17 years). Only one of the lifers had a current intimate relationship which started during his imprisonment. Three of the life-sentenced people had children however the relationships with their child(ren) were badly disrupted due to the sentence.

Interviews were either professionally transcribed or using the automatic transcription on Teams. Where Teams transcription was used, the researchers edited the final copy to ensure accuracy. All identifying information was removed from the transcripts.

Thematic analysis

Both researchers independently read through all the transcripts to familiarise themselves with the content, highlighting the main themes. Next, a question-ordered matrix was used to organise the information in a methodical and coherent mode. Clustering the common responses further condensed the information, revealing themes under which sub-themes were identified. This process was iterative and conducted separately by both researchers to ensure validity.

Findings and discussion

In the presentation of the findings, we follow the main thread of interviews: before the arrest, the confrontation with the criminal justice system and imprisonment, as well as the prospects for release. We then address the impact of a life sentence on families and close relatives’ life – from hereon we will refer to them as “family” – their coping strategies and hopes for the future.

In the presentation of the findings, we make use of quotes to best represent the experiences as they were shared with us by the family members. In the quotes, we refer to fictive names for the people serving a life sentence. For example, when describing the views of family members of "Alex", we refer to Alex, rather than providing participant names or psedonyms for the family members. We sometimes talked to more than one family member of that person, but for reasons of anonymity, we do not provide more detail on the specific participants.

The main themes are presented with links to the broader literature of imprisonment. However, we highlight how the impact on families of origin is different due to their close one serving a life sentence.

Issues prior to imprisonment

Most of the research on families of people in prison refers to a long history of problematic behaviour, family dysfunction and intergenerational patterns of crime (Gueta, 2018; MacNeil et al., 2015; McCarthy & Adams, 2019). In contrast, the majority of our participants described themselves as normal and ordinary families:

But before that, we just – we’re a very close family. We holiday together, we do all the normal things. No one had ever been in trouble, didn’t know anything about this sort of stuff until it happens. [Brian]

Looking at the family dynamics of our respondents, one mother was widowed, four participants talked about family violence growing up and two respondents reported the imprisonment of a family member (one father, one cousin/uncle). None of the people we interviewed had (disclosed) lived experience with the criminal justice system themselves, and none of the life-sentenced people had been incarcerated previously. Most of the offending behaviour was related to drug use which overtook a previously normal lifestyle, spiraling out of control and leading to the offence. Three of the 12 people serving a life sentence were involved in problematic alcohol use; in 10 cases, the person was described with problematic drug use, which some respondents believed was a way of self-medicating against the effects of mental health problems, which was explicitly mentioned in four cases. Participants, mainly parents, described instances where they had sought help:

What we found with the system at the time was as soon as the hospital would find out that he had taken drugs. This is 10 years ago. There was no recognition of the comorbidities of mental health and drug taking going together. [Alex]

So many things could have been done as [ERIC] was screaming out because of his drug addiction, he was screaming out for some sort of rehabilitation. But everywhere we turned everything was just fully booked or we can’t get you in right now. … It was horrible to see him slowly go down. [Eric]

The lack of a criminogenic background seems to be more frequent with life-sentenced people who, despite their murder convictions, were unknown to the justice system. This is an important consideration as the combination of no or little previous experience with the criminal justice system, and then sudden confrontation with rather extreme circumstances, causes an enormous shock for the entire family:

…just total shock and I knew from that day that my life would never be the same, and nor, neither would the family. [Gregg]

…it was weeks and months of shock. Definitely. I know for myself, I cried every day in the shower. [Brian]

Confrontation with the criminal justice system and the media

Following from the above, as most families had no previous interaction with or knowledge of the criminal justice system, there was a total lack of information about any processes or what they could expect:

Then out of the blue this happens and you get dragged into the criminal justice system as a family. Well, it's huge. [John]

All of sudden we’re thrown into it and it's not our life, it's not my children's upbringing, it's not my upbringing, it's not my husband's family's upbringing. It was really, really hard. [Chris]

Police

The confrontation was particularly hard at the level of police investigation. Given the seriousness of the alleged crimes, first interactions with police were rather brutal. One mother described how her daughter and other son who lived in the family home were faced down on the floor for about two hours. The sister remembered:

My sister called me after the SWAT team had surrounded the house. … I was just like, oh my God, this is like a movie. I always remember my little nephew, I think he was about nine at the time, so he was in the backyard when they all came with their guns over the fences. [Dirk]

Participants shared the impact of being interrogated by police, the fact that they had no idea what was going on and were not informed about their legal rights:

We’re going to film you. You don’t have to agree to be filmed, but we recommend that you do. And then asking me questions, putting the camera on me and it just like, I think I was almost in shock, to be honest. [Brian]

The brutal confrontation during the arrest and investigation stages follows from the seriousness of the offences and the importance of the investigation. Higginson et al. (2017) explain the strategies police use to investigate serious violent crime, which most of life-sentenced prisoners are convicted for, and how interviewing families increases the odds of case clearance. However, while the participants understood the need for investigatory rigor, they felt they were treated as guilty by association until proven innocent, rather than the other way around. Moreover, being unaware of what had happened and how they were involved, added to their confusion and stress. Further, the process of interrogation to obtain legally admissible confessions was experienced by some participants as unfair. Several participants believed that their family member provided incriminating evidence due to intoxication, mental health issues and/or being in a high-pressure situation:

The injustice of the system because he was very incriminating of himself that night, and he took on everything, you know. … The other two to put everything on [Alex] and not on themselves, that he wouldn’t stand a chance. [Alex]

Police-induced confessions have been acknowledged in research (Kassin et al., 2010). However, while none of the participants claimed a wrongful conviction (one participant did refer to a “crime by association”), some participants did believe this incriminating evidence, and/or lack of context of confession greatly impacted on the information provided to the courts, resulting in an unfair process.

Courts

Procedural fairness recounts permeated the family members’ narratives. They described how their lack of knowledge of the court system compounded their shock and disbelief and how evidence submitted seemed incomplete or did – in their view – not tell the “true story” or paint a correct picture of the case:

You know, there were certain things that happened during the trial that, the way that evidence was allowed and not allowed. [Brian]

The context of what happened and the relationships was not in the transcripts in courts. [Alex]

Others spoke about trying to understand the complexity of the court procedures. One parent described getting “in trouble” by court staff for taking an electronic device into court for note taking, which they were told was “against the law” [Brian]:

…the next day I took in a pen and paper and I got a very similar sort of a treatment from the guys. Like, what are you trying to do? I’m like, I’m just trying to take some notes. … I mean, why can’t someone tell you that? And secondly, why can’t you? Why can’t I, you know, it's my son that's being on trial. Why can’t I take notes? [Brian]

They [her parents] didn’t know what was going on. They didn’t understand the process. Nobody told them, there was nothing, you don’t know what's going on. [Ken]

Further, it was mentioned that there is limited respect for the privacy of family members of both the accused and the victim:

There's no family room or whatever the room is that you call it for, for the accused family to go off into. Yes. Um, so then you’re left out in the hallway and all the cops are patting each other on the back and all that kind of stuff. [Luke]

Most respondents felt bitter about the lack of information provided and believed a better understanding would have prevented problems they faced during the sentencing process. While this might be a shared experience for all family members in (a first) confrontation with the criminal justice system, the consequences at stake with serious offences, which may lead to a life sentence, are considerable. As an example, in one of the cases, the initial non-parole period of 12 years was appealed by the prosecution; after the appeal was upheld, this increased to 21 years without the opportunity of parole.

Media

Another important issue for family members was dealing with the media at the time of the arrest and court case, as most of the situations were high-profile crimes. Participants experienced the media as invasive in what was for them a very difficult time. One pair of parents explained how they were unaware of their child's involvement in a case until they were notified and asked for an interview by a journalist. The father reported:

I remember coming home one day. This is before we even knew that anything had happened with our son. We weren’t aware [Brian] had been arrested even, and there was a note on the table at the back of the house, written by a reporter. [Brian]

The continued media harassment impacted on parents and other children. Participants described trying to hide their face with a handbag, slipping through the back door coming out of the courtroom, or described how their private properties were invaded by those wanting salacious and exclusive media coverage:

We had people following us into the car parks like it was just a quite a scary thing. … And it was, yeah, just a very ohh, horrible, horrible time. [Eric]

It was front page news…his face was so big on the front paper. [I] was like, oh my gosh, you know, looks like my dad in his younger days went, oh Lord. what happened? You know? [Ken]

This media interest revives at occasions such as the anniversary of the event or when parole is being discussed. In the last case, participants referred to the fact that media reporting goes back to the initial occurrence, ignoring the time lapse since:

So every time his name is mentioned in a newspaper, I get a Google alert and I go and look up to see what they’re saying. It upsets me that they’re reporting the same thing from XX years ago. [Frank]

Studies have highlighted how the seriousness of the offence, particularly in the current environment of social media and public scrutiny, triggers more stigma or even hostility (Kotova, 2015). This is the case with homicide (May, 2000), and a similar process is observed in the case of other very sensitive offending profiles, such as families of convicted sex offenders (Evans et al., 2023). Therefore, we argue that the families of offenders convicted for serious offences that generate a lot of public emotion are more impacted and victimised because of the acts of their close relative.

Imprisonment and parole

It was remarkable how most participants emphasised the change in their loved one. They described how, while in prison, their relative had become invested in their health and engaged in formal education. They also explained how they had become “stand out” prisoners, praised for their good behaviour and for helping others:

He has become the best person he could be: wise and humble and repentant and fit and healthy. We couldn’t be more proud of the person he has become. [Alex]

And the moment he got in there, guards kept saying, we don’t normally have people like this in here. He doesn’t belong here. He's not the kind of person that we normally have in here. [Harry]

When it comes to surviving a long or life sentence in prison, the classic scholarship of Toch (2010) explains how long-term prisoners believe to be fundamentally changed from the person they were when entering the prison system. They rejected and discarded their old identities and worked hard to supersede their former dangerous self. More recent work refers to how long-term prisoners, after an initial stage of “treading water” while coming to terms with the offence and the sentence, learn to “swim with the tide”, accept the inevitable and try to use its energy to their advantage (Crewe et al., 2017a, p. 527). The same is reflected in the perspectives of families in this research who, as time passed on, distance their relative from the person that committed the crime as he's not that person anymore, believing them to be worthy of release and positive contributors to society:

I cry for the victim, I cry for their loss. What my son has done can’t be undone. But I’m hoping he can be released one day and be able to make a useful contribution back to society. [Alex]

In the case of a life sentence, the lack of an end date adds an extra dimension to the pains of imprisonment, and this also impacts on the families. They described the endlessness of a life sentence and the on-going uncertainty of parole as their main heartache. Several parents expressed their fear for this unsure future and possible disappointment:

You can plan your whole life around knowing if you’ve got a destination, but there's nothing and you don’t know. Like for us, we don’t know if they’ll ever let him out. It's huge. [Brian]

You know, it's, it's a long-term thing. I do not wanna die before he comes out. Yep. So I wanna see, I mean, every year's been a bad. [Ian]

Particularly in a politically sensitive parole process as is the case in Western Australia, the system was experienced as unfair and unjust:

Yeah, I feel it just feels really unfair. If they do everything they want them to do and they’re like, right, and based on their sentence and what the judge recommends and enforces that they have to do in order to recover and rehabilitate and all that stuff. Only for it, and the Parole Board can recommend him for release and then the psychologist or psychiatrist that see him can all recommend him, and then it not happen because it’s an election year or something like that. It just, it seems crazy. [John]

Given the demographics of the population we talked to, most of the parents would be well in their 70s before the first opportunity for early release of their sons. We heard testimonies of people making lifestyle changes to make sure they are around when the person gets released, as after such a long time of detention, they most probably will return to their family of origin as a start. Also other family members felt like their lives were put on hold until parole came through. Overall, there was a sense that putting too much hope in the future would only lead to more disappointment and psychological distress:

And I only try and imagine what, like he's been in there nearly 10 years, the world's changed so much, you don’t know anything about – what's it going to be like in another 10? Or 20? I don’t think about it anymore, I think it's too hard. [Brian]

I think it's about 10, 11 years. I don’t really know; this is how I’m not – I haven’t counted down for a lot of reasons. … I feel we’re here now until that [parole] gets sorted. Then we can think about what we want to do. [Dirk]

Participants in our research spoke of what Annison and Condry (2022) described as the pains of hope; families operating in “a liminal state, hopeless but unable to fully abandon hope; hopeful but worn down by constant setbacks” (Annison & Condry, 2019, p. 13). They referred to the mental strain and stress associated with parole hearings that ultimately did not lead to release and feeling stuck in limbo as there is no date to work to and the inability to plan for an uncertain future (Adams & McCarthy, 2022; Annison & Condry, 2019; Straub & Annison, 2020). This is exacerbated if the parole process is considered to be unjust, in the hand of politicians, and therefore subject to electoral pressures (Annison & Condry, 2019; Seah et al., 2022).

Living with life

It was the most horrible thing that's happened to us. [Dirk]

The impact of the offence, and the journey throughout the criminal justice system resulting in a life sentence, is enormous and on-going. We argue that the impact of such a serious offence leading to a life sentence is particularly impactful on families of origin.

Guilt, shame and stigma

Parent participants expressed feelings of guilt about not having anticipated the problems or picked up that their child was facing serious issues, indicating they should have known something was wrong:

There is always that thing, like what did we do, we could have done more, what did we miss, what did we do…? [Brian] It's that thing, what did you do wrong as parents for him to be like that? [Brian]

As Condry described in her seminal work on this topic, it is particularly parents who are bearing the burden of “guilt by association” (Condry, 2007). Gueta (2018) described this as internalised blame, when parents take responsibility for their child's criminality.

But also siblings referred to the stigmatising impact of the acts of their brother, outside of the prison system as well as by corrections staff:

No oh well, there’s definitely no empathy or sympathy for family members of someone who's killed someone else. No way. They’re just like, well, they deserve it. [Dirk]

According to her brother:

“They [prison staff] think that you are as bad as us because you’re the family of us”. He's like, they have that opinion, you can hear them talk about it. I was just like, oh my God … I was like, I didn’t do anything. Do you know what I mean? [Dirk]

Some of the siblings we talked to made life changes (e.g., moving closer) to support their parents, dealing with the impact of what was happening to their sons:

She's since this thing's happened, she's gone to her shell as well. And, she suffers a lot with everything she's cries even today. [Ken]

So mum's 94 and each time he gets knocked back, um, well the last time she dropped her bundle, took her about 18 months to pick herself back up and start, um, thinking it might happen again. [Frank]

The stigmatisation of family members is probably best described and theorised in the literature, with scholars demonstrating that blame, shame and stigmatisation are intensified for serious/dangerous offenders (Adams & McCarthy, 2022; Annison & Condry, 2019; Condry, 2007). The stigma impacts on all close relatives, even changing the “status” of the family members as they become the relative of a murderer and are no longer deemed a “normal” family. May (2000, p. 199) refers to the moral stigma of a “failed family’.

Condry and Minson (2021, p. 548) argue that there is need for a better conceptualisation of the effects of imprisonment on families, including parents, siblings and other relatives, to support a greater understanding. They suggest the concept of symbiotic harms– negative effects that flow both ways through the interdependencies of intimate associations such as kin relationships, as this encompasses “the relational, mutual, non-linear, agentic and heterogeneous characteristics" of these effects.

Mackenzie et al. (2023) turn to narrative victimology in discussing the harm families of people serving a “discredited indeterminate sentence" experience, which in their case is the IPP in the United Kingdom, but in our view equally valid for life sentences in Western Australia. They both suffer from the indefinite nature of the sentence – exacerbating the experience of other families – and the inability to move on with their lives because of that. They both perceive injustice due to the nature of the punishment and the decision-making power to end it. A point of difference is that families of IPP people did find a supportive audience for their cause as a group – even without this translating in much political action of policy change, while our participants were mainly fighting their battle on their own. As the families of IPP prisoners, our participants reflected on the feeling of being “betwixt and between”: part victim and part guilty by association.

As a result of this “courtesy stigma”, participants tended to remain quiet about their relative in prison and felt that, over time, they seem to disappear from conversations:

It's I suppose a stigma where you don’t tell people, or you’d be very selective who you tell because you don’t want to have to justify, or you don’t want to be judged, you don’t want your child to be judged, but you don’t want to have to justify all the time so it's easier not to say. [Chris]

Related to this, several participants reported the feeling that they – as immediate family or relatives to the offender – did not have the right to grief and compassion, this being reserved for the victim's family:

It's changed everything, how we work as a family unit. But I feel a bit like I don’t have a right to be upset because my brother's still alive, and he can potentially still get out and live his life and we can still have him. [Dirk]

…like my daughter says to me, Mum, you know, we shouldn’t play a victim. [Eric]

Similar observations were made in relation to families of convicted sex offenders. Evans et al. (2023) acknowledged that victims and offenders are the focus of post-crime discourse leaving family members on the fringe. Consistent with the findings of Loucks and Loureiro (2018), participants felt they were left to managing their on-going trauma largely on their own and that their ability to grieve gets repressed because of the stigma of the crime (Adams & McCarthy, 2022).

May (2000) described how families manage this stigma through “managing space”, avoiding certain people and contexts; “managing information”, avoiding conversations about their relative; and “managing self-presentation”, denying the facts or reaching out to people in the same situation. This was evident in the interviews with our participants, who described how they utilised these management strategies as well as the psychological stress caused by the constant self-monitoring.

Loyalty and (dis)connection

Regardless of the stigma, talking with our participants, an unconditional loyalty towards their relative emerged:

I love my brother, and I still love him. I hate what he did, but he's my brother and it's like, I will never not love him and do what I can to help him. Even though he's done the worst thing that you can do, but he's my family, so yeah. [Dirk]

What he did was really horrible, unfortunate, horrible one, one stupid act with these consequences. … I am not interested in the crime, I am interested in the person he is now. [Frank]

An example of this on-going loyalty is what one could refer to as the tyranny of the phone, several participants mentioning very frequent phone calls, up to several times a day. As phone contact is the only communication prisoners can (easily) initiate from their side, participants had the feeling they always had to be there for their son/brother, which can be another source of stress and frustration. We were told the example of when the call comes in during a work meeting, and as you cannot send a text message (sorry, I can’t take your call right now), this was upsetting and leaving the person with the feeling of letting his son down. During one of the interviews over the phone, another phone rang, and the mother asked to hold as “it could be him”.

Gueta (2018) refers to “continuous parenting”, out of a sense of duty or obligation. This also comes with “the burden of care”, causing stress to see their relative exposed to the risks of being in prison, and the fear of not being available when they reach out. McCarthy and Adams (2019, p. 96) refer to the “unconditional support” of primary caregivers, regarding their role as more central than before imprisonment in helping their young child to “survive their sentence”. At the same time, they are often not acknowledged by the system, seeing their care being taken over by the state, however, acting as a “bad parent” when it comes to rehabilitation. This strong commitment can be detrimental to their own needs or the needs of other family members. Annison and Condry (2019) found other family relationships to be disrupted because of this commitment. Our research participants also described the “double whammy” of the long-term loss due to life imprisonment, as well as losing additional family members if the loyalty and connection was not shared by all. One mother explained how her other son had not spoken to her for six years for continuing to support her imprisoned son, adding to her sense of grief and loss.

Additionally, participants expressed the difficulties of how to relate to someone who has been/will be in prison for so long; what do you talk about: the good things (which might make them feel like they are missing out) orthe bad things (which might be depressing), and how to stay connected? Maintaining a relationship becomes hard and the fact that their own life goes on might even feel uncomfortable:

You know, every Sunday I go there, and after half an hour, I’ll be honest with you,… we haven’t got much to talk about. Even though I’m in there for an hour and we try and pull the, you know, [conversation] it's just that, cause he rings me up three times a week as well. [Harry]

So sometimes you just like riddled with guilt because you are, you are living your life on the outside and he's stuck in like what he would say, a cage, um, like an animal and. Yeah. Yeah. [John]

Research describes the experience of family members as leading separate lives from their relatives, despite different means of contact (Adams & McCarthy, 2022; Annison & Condry, 2019). These participants described the pain for their loved ones missing out on major life events, but also sharing the more mundane everyday issues and the challenges of synchronising their lives, which is exacerbated due to the long-term imprisonment.

Because of the above, the “life sentence” includes family members, and their life will never be the same again. At each occasion, milestone and life event, there is the feeling of sadness for the person missing:

Well, it's huge, God, it's like special occasions aren’t really special anymore, there's always something missing. … But your whole life changes because there's sort of guilt about having [a celebration]. … In some way it's like a betrayal. … Then it's kind of like it's a battle with him being alive and actually being dead at the same time. He is part of our lives but he's not. [Brian]

That's the only way I can explain it is we’re after he's gone. We’re only half happy with anything that goes on in our life. [Eric]

Coping strategies and hopes

Family members were asked how they dealt with “living with life”, what worked for them and their hopes for the future. Due to the impact of a life sentence and the uncertainty of release, many felt totally out of power and impotent – cards had fallen badly so they had to pick up what was left and move on. To do so, some said they tried to close off that part of their lives:

This is life, and it's a horrible thing that's happened, but what are you going to do? This is what it is, so you just kind of stay strong and deal with whatever comes after with it. [Dirk]

I just, I just blocked everything out and just went forward. [Eric]

Participants expressed the importance of having peers to share the burden with, their partner or other family members and understanding what they are going through. None of the participants was aware of, or receiving any help from support services, being contacted by the Prisoners Justice Reform Group for this research was for several of the participants the first time they heard from confidants and they expressed their appreciation of being able to exchange shared experiences. One parent referred to other lifers as family:

I often say this to my boy I said, my only son has gone in there, but you know what when you come out I’ve got all these other sons because I’ve met some lovely, lovely guys in there that have made one mistake and they are lovely and now that they’re not under influences or whatever, they are beautiful people and I will always be there for them to support them wherever I can, and I class them all as my family now. [Chris]

Research has pointed to the lack of support for families of origin (Adams & McCarthy, 2022; McCarthy & Adams, 2019). Codd (2007, p. 258) points to the fact that families are a welcome support during imprisonment and after release, as “instruments of penal policy”, but are overlooked when it comes to being supported in their own right.

Hopes for the future

Our final question was about what our participants hoped for this research to achieve. The first comment was always related to legislative reform, for the final decision about early release of their loved one not to be in the hands of a political person.

Further, there was the desire for some understanding of what parents and siblings of (life) sentenced prisoners go through: an acknowledgement of the impact of what happened, something they were not responsible for, but which impacted enormously and irreversibly on the rest of their lives:

I think the awareness that there are so many people who are victims of these crimes regardless of which side of your on. [Luke]

I’d just like some sort of recognition or the community to become aware that there is more people [who are] victim[s], other than the immediate and innocent victims and we don’t need to be treated like we are criminals, because that happens. [Chris]

Conclusion

Supporting family members serving a life sentence is an incredibly challenging and emotionally taxing experience. In this article, we argued the importance to focus on the well-being of parents and siblings of people in prison, in addition to other family members, who have received most of the scholarlyattention. Their stories illustrated how, in the circle of life, family members had parted on their own path, until they were brutally confronted with the criminal justice system that went hard on them, because of the seriousness of the offence of a close relative. As a result, some family members reunited and closed ranks, while others disconnected, creating ruptures and even more grief and loss. The fact that those family members are there to emotionally (and sometimes financially) support an adult son/ brother during decades of imprisonment and after release is unnatural, but for many lifers and their families, the only option is this reversed “duty of care”. This is particularly the case when dealing with a life sentence. We argued that, because of the matters at stake being so high, every step of the process is even more stressful than it already is for families in general. The stigmatisation, guilt and blame are compounded by the seriousness of the offence. The family members we talked to were prepared to separate the offender from the child they raised/brother they grew up with, to see change and give a second chance, which isolated them as they felt a large part of the community was not willing to do so. It is an injustice that these family members are hardly acknowledged by the system and that there is no support for them. Even more poignant is the fact that they sometimes do not feel entitled to understanding and support, because they are the family member of the offender. Future challenges for researchers and policymakers are to focus on “other casualties”, such as parents and siblings, and the specific situation of relatives of people convicted for serious offences and to a very long or indeterminate sentence, to increase an understanding of their specific needs and provide support. We encourage self-help initiatives such as the Prisoners Justice Reform Group, but there is also a need for formalised support, providing information and assistance through each section of the criminal justice process.