Some people also become institutionalised and don’t know how to live outside prison....
It reminds me of an acquaintance we had who had just been released from prison.
I helped him get a job and drove him to work every morning. His boss gave him an advance on his pay for tools and clothes. We let him live with us until he could get his own place.
Every morning he’d ask me what he should wear to work. I’d tell him jeans, shirt and work boots. It got old after a couple days and I told him to think of his work clothes as a prison uniform. It worked.
He seemed lost evenings and weekends. He couldn’t think of anything to do. In prison someone controlled every minute of his life and he had no need to think for himself. His freedom lasted a couple months. He called me one morning - he was in jail and wanted to see me. We talked over the telephone with the thick glass partition between us. He wanted to thank me for helping him, but he just couldn’t handle it outside. He went downtown, broke a store window and pocked a watch, sat on the sidewalk and waited for the police.
The jail had recently gone no smoking and he was a heavy smoker. When he told me what he did I pulled out my pack of Marlboros and played with a cigarette. His eyes never left it. The guard also noticed and pointed to the no smoking sign. I nodded, put the cigarette in my mouth and rose to leave, telling the jailbird I needed a smoke, smiled and left. The guard thought it was a nice, evil touch.