Andrea Downer, Gleaner Writer

Anthony Ashwood ... when you come out on parole, you face a lot of problems. - Andrew Smith/Photography Editor

Anthony 'Fines' Ashwood, who spent 21 years behind bars, was released on parole in April 2004. He has been out of prison for three years and he said he is still anxiously mentally counting to 10. His new-found freedom is tenuous. He will be on parole for 10 years, so for the next seven years, the possibility of once again being back behind bars is an ever-present threat.

Fines, who was released early from prison after his death sentence was commuted to life due to an amendment of the Offences Against the Persons Act in the 1980s, said he has to be constantly on guard. Parole officers employed to the Correctional Services monitor his movements and part of the conditions of his continued freedom is that he remains gainfully employed and that he, at all times, is on his best behaviour. Even though he is no longer confined behind bars, the prison system keeps him in check. He said that is a source of torment for him.

While Fines thinks that the parole system is helpful for inmates who have served short sentences, he feels that the stipulations of 10 years of being on parole for former death row inmates like himself are way too harsh.

"In a sense, parole gives inmates serving short sentences the opportunity to come out (of prison) before their time is finished. Fi a long-sentence man now whey deh inna prison fi all 20-odd years, mi no see di sense fi put him pon parole fi a next 10 years again," he stated.

Fines said his 10-year parole requirement prevents him from living a meaningful life after prison, as it prevents him from joining relatives if they lived overseas as he is unable to travel outside of Jamaica until after the 10 years have expired.

"After more than 20 years in prison and an additional 10 years with your movements confined and constantly monitored, it is basically impossible for someone like me to live a normal life even though I have been released from prison. When I actually get my freedom, I will be too old to enjoy it or do anything meaningful with my life," he lamented.

His parole officers routinely check with his employers and people in his community, and he is required to visit the parole office in downtown Kingston at least once per month.

parole used to monitor former inmates

A parole officer employed to the Correctional Services told The Gleaner that former inmates who have been released before their sentences are completed are considered to be still in the prison system and that parole is used to monitor former inmates who fit that category.

However, Fines feels that parolees have the deck stacked against them as they face a lot of difficulties in trying to reintegrate into society, and when he and others like himself are saddled with a 10-year parole requirement, that only adds to what is sometimes a back-breaking burden for many former inmates.

"When you come out on parole, you face a lot of problems. It's kinda difficult on the street and even socially you find that you are hampered in many ways (from) carrying on with your life. Because at all times you have to have in the front of you head say you can't afford fi meck a mistake, even if somebody wrong wid you, you haffi just walk it out or walk away, or you haffi just teck anything whey you get, cause you no want di system say you shoulda did know better or a your fault (if something goes wrong)," he explained.

He laments the fact that the Correctional Services do not assist in finding jobs for inmates through arrangements with companies. According to Fines, branded as ex-convicts and shunned by the majority of companies, a large percentage of former inmates are forced to turn to crime in order to provide for themselves and their families and end up back in prison.

"When you inside prison you may have family members who would see to it that certain things are provided for you. (However), when you outside, you have to find things fi yourself, and if somebody don't employ you or if you don't try some self-employment, then, you inna problem. That is the kind of problem that nuff a di man dem face. When nobody no want to employ dem and dem have the whole heap a responsibilities fi take care of and dem can't take care of it, dem probably end up doing things whey dem not supposeto do and dem end up back right inna di (prison) system again," he explained.

He says it is sad that all ex-inmates get stereotyped and a lot of them suffer as a result.

When he was arrested in 1982, charged with murder, tried and found guilty and sentenced to hang, Fines said the judge's announcement of the first line of his sentence marked the beginning of the end for him. For the 10 years he spent on death row he would be up in the throes of a frenzied battle to save his life and his neck from the hangman's noose.

Fines claimed that the events that changed his life and took him to death row are still a mystery to him. He admitted that he had been part of a gang that was implicated in the murder that he was charged with, but maintained that he did not participate in the murder.

"I wasn't guilty of the crime that I was charged for but because the persons that I usually par with were involved in a murder, eyewitnesses told police that I was one of five men who took part in the crime, even though I was in my bed when it happened," he contended.

He said his denial of any involvement in the murder did nothing to appease the police or courts.

at 19-y-o new home death row

At 19, his new home would be death row, where he would face a daily dance with death for 10 years before his death sentence was commuted to life. However, he would end up spending an additional 11 years in the general prison population before he was paroled in 2004.

According to Fines, after he was arrested, he said he was never placed on an identification parade, but a woman looked into a room where he was being held and he later found out that she identified him as one of the men who had been involved in the murder. He said that omission and other legal blunders played a key role in his death sentence being commuted to life and eventually securing his freedom through parole from prison in 2004.

Fines is now 44 years old, unemployed and saddled with the burden of the conditions of parole for seven more years. When he spoke with The Gleaner, he was in the process of making arrangements to bury his father, whom he said disappointed him many times while he was growing up, but whom he has learned to forgive.

In reflecting on the course of his life, he has many regrets, but according to him, hindsight has the luxury of 20/20 vision, so he accepts his past with its mistakes and is optimistic about the future. Since leaving prison, he said he assisted his threefriends who were charged ointly with him with the murder and also sentenced to death, to be paroled.

Whatever challenges he now faces, he considers himself more fortunate than the approximately 300 men he said he left on death row. Men who, everyday, still wake up with hope of a reprieve that would save them from the gallows or at the very least that they would die by any other means than the hangman's noose.