IPP Sentence Remains A Stain On Justice

A Stain on Justice: How a Rooftop Protest Exposed a National Disgrace

The silhouette of a man on a penitentiary rooftop became a stark symbol of a justice system in crisis. The location was HMP Frankland, a top-security facility in Durham, during June 2023. This man, Joe Outlaw, was not merely attempting an escape; his actions were a desperate protest. His demonstration against the now-abolished, yet still lingering, sentence known as Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP) has reignited a fierce national debate. Outlaw's upcoming trial is poised to be a landmark case. In an unprecedented move, a court will assess the severe psychological strain from an open-ended term as a legitimate courtroom defense. This trial pushes the unresolved trauma of thousands of prisoners back into the spotlight. It questions the very nature of justice and punishment in modern Britain.

A Figure of Protest

Joe Outlaw’s name has become synonymous with the fight against IPP sentences. Handed an IPP in 2011 after being convicted for an armed robbery at a takeaway, he has spent 13 years behind bars, far exceeding his original four-and-a-half-year tariff. He claims he has no memory of the offence, a result of being heavily intoxicated by drink and drugs. His frustration boiled over into a series of dramatic protests. Just two months prior to the events in Durham, Outlaw conducted a 12-hour protest atop the HMP Manchester facility, known as Strangeways, scrawling "FREE IPPZ" in paint for the world to see. His actions led to his transfer to the high-security estate and further charges, including escape from lawful custody and property damage. He says his activism is an attempt to stand for what is right while facing immense suffering.

A Sentence Without End

The Labour government in 2005 introduced a new sentencing measure, Imprisonment for Public Protection. Lawmakers intended it for a small number of offenders deemed a significant danger to the public but whose crimes did not warrant a life sentence. The structure was twofold: a minimum term, or 'tariff', reflecting the crime's severity, followed by an indefinite period of detention. Release was not automatic. Instead, a prisoner had to convince the Parole Board they were no longer a risk. This created a sentence with no end date, a terrifying prospect for thousands. The uncertainty became the punishment itself, a psychological ordeal with devastating consequences that the justice system is still grappling with today.

The 'Tainted' Legacy of IPPs

The IPP sentence quickly spiralled out of its intended scope. Originally projected for around 900 prisoners, judges handed down the sentence to 8,711 people. The criteria were far too broad, catching many lower-level offenders in a net designed for the most dangerous. A person guilty of grievous bodily harm, for instance, could receive a two-and-a-half-year tariff but remain in prison for decades. The system became, in the words of a former Supreme Court justice, "the greatest stain on the criminal justice system." Even its architects acknowledged its failings. The widespread and disproportionate application of the sentence created a cohort of prisoners trapped in a legal nightmare, a legacy of a well-intentioned policy gone catastrophically wrong.

Abolition Without Retroaction

The coalition government acted in 2012, and acknowledging the indefensible nature of the system, abolished the IPP sentence. However, this momentous decision came with a devastating catch: the reform did not apply retroactively. It applied only to those sentenced from that day forward. Thousands already serving IPPs were left behind, condemned to continue their indeterminate sentences under the rules of a defunct law. This single decision created a two-tier justice system within Britain's prisons. As of March 2024, 2,796 people remained in prison on IPP sentences, a stark reminder of the legal ghost that continues to haunt the prison estate. Of these, 1,180 had never been released.

The Psychological Prison

A key feature of the IPP designation is its profound and destructive psychological impact. Studies and official reports consistently highlight the acute psychological strain of unending detention. The crushing uncertainty fuels feelings of hopelessness, anxiety, paranoia, and depression. The Centre for Crime and Justice Studies describes it as a state of "psychic pain redoubled," where the prisoner's mental health deteriorates the longer they remain incarcerated past their tariff. This mental anguish often manifests in destructive behaviour, which perversely makes it harder for them to prove they are safe for release. For many, the sentence itself becomes a form of psychological torture, a cruel and unusual punishment fuelling a widespread mental health crisis.

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Self-Harm and Suicide: The Bleak Reality

The extreme psychological pressure linked to the IPP designation has resulted in a tragic and predictable rise in self-harm and suicide. Rates of self-harm among the IPP population are more than double those of prisoners serving life or determinate sentences. The numbers paint a grim picture of the despair festering in this cohort. As of March 2025, at least 94 people had taken their own lives while under an IPP designation. Campaigners, like Cherrie Nichol, an activist with a sibling under an IPP term, report that numerous inmates became utterly hopeless, believing they would never get out. This desperation has created a toxic environment where self-inflicted harm becomes a final, tragic outlet for unbearable psychological pain.

The Catch-22: Barriers to Rehabilitation

The path to release for an IPP prisoner is a bureaucratic obstacle course. To be freed, they must prove to the Parole Board that they have addressed their offending behaviour. This typically requires completing specific rehabilitative courses. However, access to these programmes is notoriously difficult. Limited availability, long waiting lists, and transfers between prisons mean that many inmates cannot get onto the very courses that are mandatory for their progression. They become trapped in a vicious cycle: they cannot be released without completing the courses, and they cannot complete the courses because the system fails to provide them. This frustrating loop serves only to deepen their sense of hopelessness and injustice.

A Fight for Human Rights

In response to this systemic failure, a powerful grassroots movement has emerged. Groups like the United Group for Reform of IPP (UNGRIPP) and IPP Committee in Action, often led by the families of prisoners, campaign relentlessly for change. They organise protests, lobby politicians, and raise public awareness about the plight of their loved ones. Cherrie Nichol is one such voice, fighting for her brother Aaron who was given an IPP with a tariff of just over two years but has been incarcerated for two decades. These campaigners argue the continued detention of IPP prisoners is a violation of their human rights, representing a form of punishment that is both cruel and inhumane.

Voices of a Movement

The campaign against IPP sentences is driven by the powerful stories of those directly affected. Marie Cavanaugh, whose loved one is under an IPP term, worked with MP John McDonnell to table an Early Day Motion in Parliament calling for a resentencing process for every IPP prisoner. These families share harrowing accounts of the mental degradation their relatives endure, describing the sentence as a form of "psychological torture." They are the public face of the campaign, their determination fuelled by the pain of seeing their loved ones lost in the system. Their activism has been crucial in keeping the issue on the political agenda, ensuring the voices of the silenced are heard in the corridors of power.

Incremental Progress: The Licence Reduction

Years of relentless campaigning have yielded some significant victories. One of the most important recent reforms was a change to the licence period for individuals after their release from an IPP term. Previously, released prisoners would remain on licence for a minimum of ten years, subject to recall to prison for even minor infractions. Following recommendations from the Justice Committee, the government passed the Victims and Prisoners Act 2024. This legislation cut the licence duration down to three years for most, a change that came into effect in late 2024 and automatically annulled the licences for approximately 1,800 individuals. This allowed many to finally move on with their lives.

The Parole Board's Burden

The Parole Board holds the key to an IPP prisoner's freedom, but it operates under immense pressure. Its primary duty is to assess risk and protect the public. However, this has created a deeply risk-averse culture. The fear of releasing a prisoner who goes on to commit a serious offence, and the ensuing media firestorm, weighs heavily on every decision. This institutional caution makes it incredibly difficult for inmates on IPP terms, who frequently struggle with the psychological effects of their sentence, to prove they are safe. The Justice Committee found the parole process itself to be a significant barrier to progress for these offenders.

Recalled to Prison: A Revolving Door

For numerous individuals with IPP terms who manage to secure their release, freedom is often fleeting. The long licence period, until its recent reduction, created a "revolving door" of recalls to custody. A substantial portion of released individuals are returned to prison, not for committing further crimes, but for breaching the strict conditions of their licence, such as missing an appointment or failing to reside at an approved address. As of March 2024, there were 1,616 recalled IPP prisoners in custody, a figure that highlights the immense challenge of successful reintegration. The constant threat of recall makes it nearly impossible for individuals to rebuild their lives, perpetuating the cycle of punishment and despair.

Political Will and a Plea for Resentencing

The House of Commons Justice Committee has been a powerful advocate for reform. In a landmark 2022 report, it described the IPP sentence as "irredeemably flawed" and called for a complete resentencing of every individual still subject to it. This primary recommendation was hailed by campaigners as the only way to truly address the injustice. However, successive governments have rejected this call, citing concerns about public protection and the complexity of such an exercise. This political stalemate leaves thousands of people in limbo, with campaigners arguing that only a bold legislative fix can right this historic wrong.

The Economic Drain of a Failed System

Beyond the profound human cost, the IPP sentence represents a significant financial burden on the state. The cost of keeping thousands of people in prison long after their original tariffs have expired is enormous. With nearly all unreleased IPP prisoners now past their tariff date, many by more than a decade, the taxpayer is funding the indefinite detention of individuals under a discredited and abolished legal framework. Campaigners argue this money would be far better spent on robust, properly funded rehabilitation and community support services. These services could help individuals reintegrate successfully, breaking the cycle of incarceration and recall, and ultimately providing better value and a more just outcome.

A Test Case for the Courts

Joe Outlaw's case brings the entire IPP saga full circle, landing it squarely back in the courtroom. His trial is not just about a protest on a penitentiary rooftop; it is a profound legal challenge to the very legitimacy of his ongoing detention. By using the psychological harm of the sentence as his defence, he forces the judicial system to confront the consequences of a law it once administered. If his argument succeeds, it could set a powerful precedent, potentially opening a new legal avenue for others trapped in the same predicament. His individual act of defiance has become a test case for the entire system.

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A Stain on British Justice

The continued plight of IPP prisoners remains a deep and troubling stain on the British justice system. It is a story of unintended consequences, legislative inertia, and immense human suffering. The government's abolition of the sentence in 2012 was a tacit admission of its failure, yet its refusal to apply the change retrospectively has prolonged the agony for thousands. While recent reforms, such as the shortened licence period, offer a glimmer of hope, they do not address the core injustice for those still languishing in prison. The debate continues to pit arguments of public safety against the principles of proportionate and humane punishment.

The Human Cost of Indefinite Detention

The stories of those serving IPP sentences reveal the devastating human cost of this failed legal experiment. Many individuals, like Cherrie Nichol's brother, were given short tariffs for offences that would never have resulted in a life sentence, yet they have lost decades of their lives. The psychological impact extends beyond the prisoners themselves, causing immense distress to their families, who are forced to navigate the complex and often hopeless parole process alongside them. These families and prisoners are united in their call for justice, seeking an end to a nightmare that has consumed their lives for far too long.

The Path Forward: A Call for Action

Campaigners and parliamentary committees agree that a comprehensive solution is urgently needed. The Centre for Crime and Justice Studies has proposed a five-point plan that includes easing restrictions for those over tariff, compassionate release for the most distressed, and, crucially, a systematic resentencing exercise. They argue that only by taking these bold steps can the government begin to repair the damage caused by the IPP sentence. The calls for a fundamental review of preventive detention are growing, urging lawmakers to learn the lessons from this shameful chapter in British legal history and ensure such an injustice can never be repeated.

Conclusion: A Legacy of Despair and a Fight for Hope

Joe Outlaw's rooftop protest was a dramatic cry for help, a visible manifestation of the silent desperation felt by thousands. His case, and the tireless work of campaigners, has kept the IPP crisis in the public eye, refusing to let it be forgotten. The sentence, born of a desire to protect the public, has instead created a legacy of despair, mental illness, and injustice. While the political will for a full resentencing exercise has so far been absent, the moral imperative to act grows stronger every day. The fate of the remaining IPP prisoners hangs in the balance, a stark test of the nation's commitment to justice, fairness, and human rights.