Mums and murderers: Inside Sydney’s new maximum security female jail
It is Sydney’s newest high-security prison — an electric-fenced maximum security jail to house some of Australia’s most dangerous women. Opened a year ago to deal with the soaring numbers of females prisoners, The Sunday Telegraph was granted exclusive access inside to spend time with the women on remand.
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A bag of Qantas headphones is wheeled in to a workshop where teams of women dressed in prison greens are untangling the cords before refitting them with new foam.
They will sort through 18,000 sets a week before the refurbished headsets are sent back to the airline to be distributed to the next outgoing plane loads of economy passengers.
It’s a standard factory production line, only these women are biding their time at the 94-bed maximum security Mary Wade Correctional Centre as they wait to be convicted or sentenced for serious violent crime such as murder and manslaughter.
One of the women, decked out in red trainers and a ponytail, will be sentenced the next day for killing her partner.
Others are awaiting court dates. There is a lot of talk about dates.
Depending on how many bags they untangle, the women will be paid up to $70 a week to allow them extra buy-ups such as the red trainers several wear in place of the loathed standard-issue green pair they receive on arrival.
Prison security manager Brian Gurney said the department reluctantly decided to allow women to buy their own trainers to stop them “customising” the prison ones.
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The hot topic this month is hairdryers, with the prisoners on the special Inmate Delegate Committee requesting one in each cell to allow the women to blow dry their hair.
Many of the women here were the primary carers of their children before they were imprisoned. Some have left their children with their grandparents or spouse.
One mother-of-five, whom we are not allowed identify, said it would be her first Christmas without her children.
“It’s taken a while but it’s now sunk in that I’m not going home,” she said.
“I would give anything to be at home and to have my kids sit on my bed like they used to, but I just have to deal with it.”
Like school, there are “in” and “out” groups with the officers — whom the inmates still call “screws” behind their back — on the look out to diffuse any fights.
“We get paid for what might occur,” says Mr Gurney.
Snitching is not on, with “dogs” looked down upon. To encourage women to alert officers of wrongdoing, a strategically placed “suggestion box” is set up in the common area.
There are no fights during our visit. Instead, there are tears.
Two prison officers are forced to separate two women refusing to let each other go near the prison entrance — referred to by prisoners as the “gay gates” given the trend for women to form close relationships with fellow inmates.
One of the women is being transferred to another prison, leaving her “partner” behind. The inmates look on during the commotion.
Mary Wade was opened a year ago to deal with the prison overcrowding crisis — female inmate numbers rose 10 per cent this year to 3625.
There are two per cell, with women being locked in together from 3.30pm until “let go” at 8.10am.
One cell has Seven’s Sunrise screening on TV. The walls are covered with family photos. Boredom is the biggest complaint among inmates. It is a small space to be locked in for 16 hours a day.
The buy-ups allow the women to access special treats, such as packets of Oreo biscuits which are used to create mud cakes.
“You get a packet, pour in some Coke and then microwave it,” one inmate said.
“It turns into a mud cake. The recipe came down from the boys’ jail.”
Previously a juvenile justice centre, the modifications included the removal of an inground poor together with reinforcing the perimeter fencing to bring it up to maximum security standards.
There are also aerial nets to stop items thrown from the outside ending up with inmates.
Despite many of the women being on remand for violent crimes, Mr Gurney acknowledges many do not fit the “murderer” stereotype. As we chat, one prisoner is plaiting the hair of another a few metres away.
Some come from privileged backgrounds — private schools — and ended up inside for drugs or fraud.
There are also several “internationals”, some alleged to have been drug mules.
For 52 per cent of the inmates, Mary Wade is their first experience of prison life.
“For a lot of them, the crime that got them here will be their first and only crime,” he said.
One inmate potentially facing a three-year sentence for her alleged crime says she cried every day for the first eight months inside.
“I just thought I was untouchable,” she said.
“I never ever thought I would end up in jail.”
Prison officer Courtney Ainley said the hardest part of the job was conducting strip searches, given some of the women had been victims of sexual abuse.
Asked how she felt about being surrounded by women who had been charged with taking a life, Ms Ainley replies: “Everyone looks normal. What does a murderer look like?”
Together with intensive literacy and numeracy lessons — to date, 50 inmates have completed 900 hours, the women also attend mothering at a distance, domestic abuse and addiction programs, depending on their needs.
Corrections Minister David Elliott said the focus of staff at Mary Wade was to target the issues that led to offending from the start — even if the women are yet to be convicted.
“Health care, chaplaincy services and counselling are also available for women suffering drug dependence, those with mental health issues and those who have been victimised prior to coming into custody,” he said.
The women’s’ numeracy and literacy levels were also assessed on arrival, with a plan put in place to improve skills, says Corrective Services NSW Commissioner Peter Severin.
At the addiction class, the focus today is about developing a “prevention plan” — a topic that triggers animated discussions from the prisoners.
Programs officer Peta Dean paints a scenario where a recently released inmate “on her way to Woolworths” bumps into an old friend, who invites her to try “some really good gear”
She asks the group what would they do.
Most of the inmates say they would decline, except for one.
“I would,” she said.
The women offer up ways they think would help them from relapsing, ranging from carrying “flash cards”, posting reminders on a wall such as “green shoes”, getting a job and “staying away from crackheads”.
While many women attribute their drug-taking to their past, one declares she became an addict because of her love of partying.
“I’ve been a drug addict for 30 years,” she said.
“My mum asked: How long are you going to do this? I take drugs because I like it. I like partying, but I know I have to stop.
“Relapse is not an option.”
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