My Lords, in Committee, a number of us stressed the importance of those sections of the Bill relating to its application for prisoners suffering mental disorder. I continue to push to ensure that the parts of the Bill that relate to the responsibilities of the MoJ in relation to the Department of Health and Social Care are not neglected once the Act becomes law.
In Committee, I focused on calling for a government review of the impact of the Bill on prisoners, but, from listening to the thoughtful response from the noble Lord, Lord Timpson, I saw that this could become yet another bureaucratic report. I therefore commend Amendment 38 from the noble Lord, Lord Bradley, as an elegant way of ensuring that the crucial provision of a transfer to hospital within 28 days is more than an “if only” paper aspiration.
My Amendment 40, which I am delighted is supported by the noble Baroness, Lady Bennett of Manor Castle, is also a practical proposal. It is designed to tackle problems that directly pertain to the Bill, broadly because, regardless of this legislation, the reality is that there will continue to be large numbers of prisoners suffering mental disorders who are incarcerated within the prison estate rather than in secure hospitals. The question then is what happens to their mental health care when they are released. If this aspect is neglected, these ex-prisoners could well become increasingly unwell and deteriorate, and therefore be in need of future detention.
It would be a real mistake to neglect any policy or practice associated with this Bill that fails to address the need for bespoke, ongoing support in the community, in which ex-prisoners’ mental health is not allowed to fall further, creating new risks to both them and the public. This is a real risk. Estimates from a 2023 report from the Centre for Mental Health, based on a survey of 75% of prisons and young offenders’ institutions in England, found that one in seven prisoners receive mental health support while in custody—the figure is one in four among women. However, continuity of that care collapses after release. Research led by the University of Manchester recently found that, of 53 prisoners who had been in touch with in-house services due to severe and enduring mental health conditions, only four were in touch with community health services six months after release.
It is perhaps understandable why this happens. When leaving prison, both the authorities and prisoners may focus on practical challenges, such as lack of housing and how to earn money and a living, and therefore mental health support can and does slip down the priority list. It is also the case that leaving prison can present a shock to the system, and that affects this. Prisoners will be leaving a structured environment, focused on routine, and, in many instances, returning to more disorganised and chaotic conditions. Freedom may mean an arbitrary end to an effective course of treatment, someone having waited perhaps months or even years to access services, such as therapy or specialised groups, in which they have started to open up about traumatic experiences—all in-prison services. Suddenly, on release, there is an abrupt end to such support. Targeted interventions, prescribing regimes and the access to medication inside are no longer guaranteed on the outside.
I understand that ensuring continuity of care can be incredibly difficult. People leaving prison often have multiple and complex needs, and can be wary of accessing care in the community because of a lack of trust in state institutions that means that they are less likely to proactively seek out help. Ex-prisoners report that they fear that disclosing mental health challenges to, for example, probation staff will draw attention to their vulnerabilities. Then there is the dread of recall—an especially acute fear for IPP prisoners: a fear of being sent back to prison if they appear too ill to cope, or a dread of that other detention mechanism, sectioning.
All that this amendment seeks is to ensure a smooth handover between prisoners and community services. Without such ministerial reassurance, I fear that this will undermine core parts of the Bill unless it is taken into account. The stock reply to such concerns is that prison mental health services send on information to prisoners’ GPs, but in the real world this is often nonsense. Prisoners often do not have a fixed address on release, so they are discharged with just a medical letter. Prison nurses explain that they do not know where their patient will be released to, beyond a hostel somewhere, making it impossible to connect that person to even primary care. Prison-led medical staff complain that often they are not informed of the impending release until very shortly beforehand—sometimes a week or days—and this is especially acute in relation to the present early release scheme. There is not enough time to set up appropriate community provision, to communicate with services or even to conduct proper assessments of individual patients before their release. Clinical needs are therefore deprioritised, and prisoners fall through the net of statutory services.
What is needed, and what this amendment envisages, is that a relevant detention authority is responsible for discharge packages which will, for example, register prisoners with GP services in the precise area a person is discharged to, and liaise with relevant third-party organisations and community provision to make arrangements. Prisons and health authorities would work together to prevent deteriorating mental health and the potential for behaviour on the outside that would mean yet more contact with the criminal justice system for the ex-prisoner and, possibly, emergency intervention and detention.