Differences in regime and entitlements
Remand prisoners awaiting trial are presumed to be innocent.

These prisoners are held separately from sentenced prisoners as far as is possible. However, this rarely happens in large overcrowded local jails and they are often held in a shared cell with a convicted prisoner.

However, there are a number of differences in the regime and entitlements for remand prisoners awaiting trial, as set out below:

Remand prisoners endure some of the worst conditions
While people awaiting trial experience some benefits in terms of day to day prison life and entitlements, the differing regime can also seriously disadvantage remand prisoners.

Poor conditions - Remand prisoners are kept close to the court of trial, usually in a local prison. While this frequently has benefits in terms of closeness to home, these prisons are often overcrowded Victorian jails with most prisoners sharing very small cells that have a toilet which is not always separated by a screen. These conditions have been described as primitive by Martin Narey, the Commissioner for Correctional Services. These prisons are not able to ensure suitable provision for those held for long periods on remand.

Sentence Planning - There is no requirement to prepare, or begin thinking about, a sentence plan for a remand prisoner. This in turn means that their time in custody is not used to best effect. Very few are given a personal officer to inform and guide them during their stay behind bars and they receive little help to prepare for release.

Education and Work - Research by the National Association for the Care and Resettlement of Offenders (NACRO), has found that compared to sentenced prisoners, remand prisoners, are half as likely to have participated in work whilst in prison. The Office for National Statistics (ONS) has found that young people on remand are 20 per cent less likely to have attended education classes during their current period in custody. This may be an unintended outcome of the regime for those on remand, as they are not required to work or take part in education, although it is clear that for those who want to work, there are insufficient places.

Family Contact - Even though remand prisoners are held closer to home, they are more likely to lose contact with their family. The Prisons Inspectorate has found that one in four men and half of all women on remand said that they had no visits at all. Young men on remand seem to be particularly isolated. Research by ONS has found that, compared with sentenced prisoners, they are twice as likely to have received no letters or phone calls in the previous three months.

Resettlement - Remand prisoners receive little help with resettlement and release. Research by NACRO has found they are half as likely as sentenced prisoners to have obtained advice on resettlement, despite the fact that they are less likely to have somewhere to live on release. Those released following a court case, or who have proceedings against them dropped, are ineligible for financial support in the form of a discharge grant, whatever their circumstances and whatever the length of time inside.

A day in the life of a remand prisoner awaiting trial
Spencer (not his real name) has been on remand in a large local prison for more three months. He is accused of being involved in a drugs ring that allegedly imported heroin. It is the first time he has fallen foul of the law.

He sits on the bottom bunk in his cramped cell, in the huge Victorian jail. It is about twelve foot by eight foot. Apart from the iron bunk bed frame that is concreted into the floor, there are a couple of chairs and a battered fixed cupboard. There is barely enough room to move around.

In the corner is the metal toilet and basin unit. It is about a foot away from Spencer’s knee. There is no screen around the toilet, just a makeshift curtain arrangement that Spencer and his cell mate have put up. “How would you like to have to shit in front of another man you don’t know?” says Spencer. “And then have to share the smells in the summer’s heat.”

The only ventilation is a small barred window just below the ceiling. The air is stale. “It smells of sweat or rotting vegetables most of the time” says Spencer.

“We spend about 22 hours a day locked up in here. If we were dogs living in these conditions, the RSPCA would go crazy, why should it be any different for humans?” he says. “And I haven’t even been convicted yet.”

Spencer reflects on his average day. “I get up about 8.00 but we are not unlocked until 9.30, when we are let out for less than a couple of hours. Breakfast is provided the day before when we have our afternoon tea at 4.30, a packet of cereal, milk and some fruit. If it hasn’t gone stale by the morning I’ll eat it when I wake up.

When we get unlocked there is association on the wing. You have a choice of taking a shower, joining the queue to use the phones, or going out in the exercise yard. You can spend up to one hour waiting to use the phone, and it gets pretty tense. Tempers can boil over if guys spend too long talking to their loved ones. Then you will want to have a shower but there are only four showers and there will be a queue for them too. And then that is it, your 90 minutes are up and its back to sitting on the bunk bed, banged up with nothing to do.

We get out at about midday and around 4.30 for lunch and tea. It is a short walk to the servery at the end of the landing to get your tray of food. Then back in the cell to sit on the bunk and eat. The rest of the time I read, sit, think and sleep. What else can I do?”

It is Spencer’s first time in prison. He’s learned to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. “There are lots of tough guys in here, lots of guys off their faces on drug, lots of guys looking for a fight, but you quickly work out who to avoid.

The staff are a mixed bunch. The mood on the wing really depends who is working. Some prison officers get a kick out of winding up prisoners. They can set things off and create a really bad atmosphere. But mostly it is not like this.

It is hard, very hard. I felt desperate when I got here. I often still do, but most of all I feel really helpless. I’m not a threat to anybody. I have a wife and four kids. I miss them terribly. Why can’t I be with them, and then fine, if I’m found guilty, send me to prison. The presumption of innocence does not count any more.”