Honesty is Gold.

Valuables hold a unique significance in prison, often serving as the only tangible connection to one’s family. A few weeks into my time at Rimutaka, I stumbled upon a heavy gold wedding ring perched on a high shelf in the Unit 6 gym. Without hesitation, I handed it in, expecting anyone in my shoes to do the same. However, the reaction I received from Sharon, the duty corrections officer, took me by surprise.

“Well, this is a first,” she remarked, “An honest inmate! Never seen that in my 25 years on the job!” Though it initially seemed cynical, I realised she was genuine in her surprise. From that point on, her previously sour demeanour towards me softened, and we maintained a healthy relationship during my stay in Unit 6.

Aware of the ring’s importance and how it was likely to be one of the only connections a fellow inmate may have with their spouse or partner, I requested Sharon announce its recovery so the owner could claim it back. She dismissed the idea, saying, “And have 59 thieving liars lined up at my window, trying to describe it and claim it? Scott, keep this to yourself, please. Don’t say anything. We’ll handle this quietly.”

In enquired the following day, and Sharon informed me that the ring had been returned to its rightful owner. However, she refused to disclose the person’s name, preventing me from verifying the outcome.

I didn’t know if I could fully trust Sharon and I felt that doing the “right” or “honest” thing may have left me in a difficult position if the ring had not been properly returned. I worried that Sharon may have taken advantage of my potential naivety. Upon sharing this incident with fellow inmates – “the bros” – they were quick to assert that I’d been conned. “Everyone knows the screws are the biggest crooks in jail,” they claimed, citing instances where their possessions had been “pinched and sold by the screws”. The prevailing advice was to trust only my fellow inmates, as they would have ensured the ring’s return. “We rely on each other here.” They told me that it was us against them, and that their code was different to ours.

Now I didn’t know how to feel. I thought I’d been honest with both myself and Sharon, but I also felt a sense that I’d broken the inmates’ code and betrayed the bros, who spoke dismissively of the screws and their conduct. I decided to park my reservations and feelings because, deep down, I knew I’d done the right thing by me and that my values of honesty and acting with integrity were more important than baseless accusations against someone like Sharon, who showed show up every day and did her best to make our lives just a little bit better.

A year later as I prepared for my first parole hearing, I was granted access to the prison’s records on my conduct. The gold ring episode was among the documented incidents and even made its way into the prison’s report for the hearing. “Prisoner Anderson chose an honest course when he could have profited from a dishonest course. This, and other observations of his conduct, demonstrate that he is capable of trust and may be able to be relied on.” My gratitude went out to Sharon for acknowledging an action that should normally be common-place.

The statement was highlighted during my parole board hearing and likely contributed to my early release, just 14 months into a 42-month sentence – an uncommon but not unprecedented decision for a first hearing.

In the end, Sharon, the prison officer had done the right thing and gone the extra mile, proving the inmates’ distrust to be misplaced. Also, I firmly believe that most prisoners, like any other group, understand the importance of trust and would have returned the ring as well. However, the distrust between these groups stems from the presence of a few bad apples on both sides, as is often the case.

For me, this experience serves as yet another testament to the value of honesty. While honesty in the form of transparency about ourselves can often leave us feeling vulnerable and unguarded, those who give trust are more likely to be trusted in return.

However, there’s a twist to the story. When I told my fellow inmates how much my proven honesty had influenced the Parole Board’s decision, a curious trend emerged. Over the next few weeks, many inmates “lost” something of value, only for it to be “found” and handed in by a bro who (not coincidentally) had an upcoming parole hearing. Honest intent was being exploited to manipulate a partly broken system, all in the hopes of achieving a better outcome. It certainly gave me food for thought. I couldn’t help but consider the delicate balance between honesty, trust, and the working of the prison system and of our wider society. My act of honesty had helped bring about positive change in my life, but it had also unintentionally encouraged others to exploit the same system. The inmates’ actions exposed the challenges of telling genuine honesty apart from calculated deception, especially when navigating a flawed system where trust is already in short supply and being open and vulnerable will lead to one of two possible outcomes.

Furthermore, this situation made me think about the complexities of human behaviour and the motivations driving our actions. I couldn’t help but wonder if the inmates’ manipulation of the system was purely driven by their desire for a better outcome, or if it was a manifestation of their yearning for trust and support within an environment that completely lacks it. Maybe they felt there was no other way for the “screws” and Parole Board to trust them – and that they were subject to further prejudice purely because they were on the “inside” and the “screws” on the “outside”.

Prisons house an entire spectrum of people, many of whom are genuinely good people who have made a mistake. I think many of the bro’s actions in this situation were driven by desperation, because there was no other clear way to earn the trust and respect of the “screws” and the Parole board. Other inmates, the few “bad eggs” were certainly more cynical than that.

Ultimately, this “food for thought” served as a reminder that even well-meaning actions can have unforeseen consequences, and that understanding the personal and societal value of trust and honesty, including personal transparency, is essential for bringing about real change and personal growth.