Erwin James, Prison Writer

The Guardian has run regular columns and articles by a convicted murderer identified only as Erwin James over this past decade. In an interview published last April he talks for the first time about his real identity, his life before, during and after the 20 years he spent in jail - and why he told lies about his time in the French Foreign Legion:

This time five years ago I had served 19 years and eight months of a life sentence and was waiting for the answer to my application to be released from the parole board. I had a lurking anxiety about what the answer was going to be. I had been in "open conditions", as a low-security Category D prisoner for more than two years and had been going in and out of the prison regularly for a year and a half, first to undertake community work, then paid work and social visits in the local neighbourhood. As far as I could see, there was no reason why the answer should be negative. But I had seen incomprehensible answers handed to lifers by the parole board too many times to be anything near complacent about my own chances.

Looking back now I remember feeling no anxiety about what life was going to be like if they released me, however. I had people close to me who cared about me. I had a home to go to and regular work. For the previous four years I had been writing about prison life in the Guardian in a column entitled "A life inside" and already had a book with the same title published to some acclaim. I had also just started a well-paid job as a development manager for a national charity. All the elements necessary for a successful transition from prisoner to citizen and more were in place. It should have been a breeze. And for a short time it was.

I walked out of the prison gate for the last time on the brightest, sunniest August day in 2004, exactly 20 years after I had been taken into custody. The euphoria was overwhelming. For two incredible weeks it felt as if I was walking on air. Then, out of nowhere, I was hit by an almighty sense of despair and emptiness. It did not seem to matter that I was free, fit and healthy and was surrounded by an abundance of opportunities. Despite having thought about it often during the months leading up to it, planning and preparing carefully for it, there was something so odd about the reality of it. Guilt was the emotion that hit me the most powerfully, a strong sense that I did not deserve to be out here enjoying the pleasures that free people enjoy...

From:Erwin James: The real me | Society | The Guardian