Outside the system

The ‘Inhumane’ Jail Sentence Abolished More Than a Decade ago That’s Still Traumatising Inmates and Their Families

IPP sentences were abolished more than a decade ago – but despite legislative changes hundreds of inmates remain in jail indefinitely and many are taking their own lives in despair

General view of inside a prison.
Photo: PA Images / Alamy

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Changes to the Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP) scheme in England and Wales announced in November – that will free 1,800 offenders from indefinite prison sentences – didn’t “go far enough” and for those still incarcerated, “it probably harms them even further, because it just reinforces the fact that they have no hope of getting out”, a campaigner has said.

IPP was designed to protect the public from serious offenders whose crimes did not
merit a life sentence and were created by the Criminal Justice Act 2003, and used from April 2005. Offenders sentenced under IPP are handed a minimum jail term they must serve, and upon completion can apply to the Parole Board for release. If successful, they’re put on supervised licence for 10 years, with any infringement returning them to prison where their release is again determined by the Parole Board.

Some IPP prisoners have served close to two decades behind bars for sentences of just a few years – for crimes as minor as stealing mobile phones. The UN says the legislation is “inhumane” and has been reflected in at least 86 suicides by prisoners since being introduced. It has also been branded the “single greatest stain on our justice system”.

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IPP was abolished in 2012 – for offenders convicted on or after 3 December 2012, with the Government stating the system was “not defensible” – but the change did not apply retrospectively to people who were already serving the sentence.

According to a Ministry of Justice factsheet, IPPs were handed down at a rate of more than 800 a year over the seven-year period they were used, resulting in more than 6,500 offenders serving IPP sentences. Government figures, as of 30 September 2023, showed there were 1,269 offenders still serving an IPP sentence who had never been released on licence. Hundreds more, it is estimated, are back in prison having been recalled over licence breaches. Figures from December 2022, showed there were 1,394 unreleased IPP prisoners in custody, and 1,498 recalled IPP prisoners – a total of 2,892 prisoners. Those figures showed that all but 35 unreleased IPP prisoners had passed their tariff date.

Re-sentencing IPP offenders has been advocated by parliament’s Justice Select Committee, the Centre for Crime and Justice and IPP campaigners to rectify the situation, but was rejected by the Government.

THE LATEST BYLINE TIMES PODCAST

with Adrian Goldberg available to listen to now on Acast, Spotify and iTunes

Earlier this month the Byline Times Podcast investigated IPP and unpicked the long-ranging impacts it has had on people sentenced to it, and their families. Host Adrian Goldberg spoke to Ishuba Salmon who lost 17 years of his life to it; Emma McClure, who represented inmate Matthew Price who reached out to the Justice Secretary and members of the criminal justice community before taking his own life while on licence, writing that he was “stuck in a never-ending cycle of which suicide is quite possibly really the only way out” , and Donna Mooney from campaign group, UngrIPP, whose brother took his own life in jail in 2015. Listen to the podcast here.

“I never killed nobody. But I was on the wing with people who did kill people, and they went home before me”

Ishuba Salmon, former IPP inmate

Ishuba Salmon, 44, was sentenced under IPP to a minimum term of five years after being found in possession of a firearm while in a stolen car. He served 12 years and nine months before being released in September 2018: “I never killed nobody, but I was on the wing with people who did kill people, and they went home before me.”

While still on his IPP licence, Salmon was arrested over an allegation of wounding with intent. He was cleared and was preparing to leave court after the judge said, “I was free to go,” when he was taken downstairs by court security, and returned to prison. For another four years: “I was quite happy, justice had prevailed, and then we just made a mockery of our own British court system.”

Salmon added: “I can’t get back my daughter’s 17 years that I’ve missed out of her life. I want her to look at her Dad and see a good role model and someone she’s proud of. Not some guy sat down in jail for the rest of his life and wasting away.”


Matthew Price, 48, was handed an IPP in 2010 for seriously wounding his friend, with a three-year minimum term. Unlike other inmates who have served more than ten years longer than their minimum tariff, Price was released in 2013 – but he didn’t cope well with being on licence for the next decade and took his own life in June 2023.

A month before doing so, Price issued a desperate cry for help, writing to Justice Secretary Alex Chalk, several law firms and the Justice Select Committee, explaining that “asking for help will go against me, not asking for help will most likely kill me”. He described IPP as a “death penalty by the back door”.

Price was struggling with his mental health and an earlier attempt on his life had led to further IPP supervision. He feared reaching out again for support would mean he’d never have his licence revoked.

“I’m stuck in a never-ending cycle of which suicide is quite possibly really the only way out”

Matthew Price, deceased IPP inmate

Emma McClure from SL5 Legal was the last person to speak to Price, having taken on his case shortly before his death, after seeing his letter. She told the Byline Times Podcast that when her late client’s 10-year supervision mark approached, “the stress and the idea that he wasn’t going to be successful” in having it revoked became too much for him. Then things got worse: he was denied legal aid and his case stalled due to “chronic delays” in the court system: “There’s just issues and issues and issues and delays and delays, delays. And then unfortunately, it proved to be too much for Matthew and he did ultimately take his own life,” McClure explained on the podcast.