02 across a table

He had been detained on a locked ward;
schizophrenia; complex drug problems.
The day of the assessment
he was heavily medicated,
was experiencing
auditory and visual hallucinations.
He thought he had special powers,
believed he was the Son of God.
His benefits were stopped immediately.
He had been deemed fit for work
on the basis of physical tests: the ability
to pick a pen up off the ground
or move a pint of milk
across a table.

[The Scotsman, 21/01/2012, Just not working: Why government fit-to-work tests are failing]

41 a second, unopened letter

She received a letter
from the Department
saying she should go back to work.
She suffered chronic breathlessness,
pulmonary disease,
depression;
she was a recovering methadone addict.
The letter also told her
her incapacity benefit
would be stopped.
She was so distressed
she took a cocktail of drugs.
She recovered
after treatment in hospital.
She regretted trying to take her own life
and vowed to fight the decision.
She died two days later.
A suicide note had been left in a sealed envelope
some medication was around the floor.
A post-mortem examination revealed
she only had a small amount of drugs in her system –
mostly from the suicide attempt
two days previously.
The coroner was satisfied
that she died
of natural causes.
After her body was found
a second, unopened letter
was also discovered
indicating she would not
lose her benefit after all.

[Evening Standard, 14/08/2013, Suicide bid of woman who feared losing her incapacity benefit]

46 23 minutes

The inquest,
which lasted two days,
heard that his medical assessment
took just 23 minutes.
He suffered from HIV,
hepatitus,
sciatica,
severe depression, insomnia,
dental pain.
He had a history of self-harm,
which stemmed from abuse
as a child.
His benefits
of ninety pounds a week
were stopped
on September eighteenth.
That same day
he went online.
After writing of his disapproval
of the system
he wrote
‘It’s time to say goodbye,
goodbye.’
On September twenty-fifth
(cocktail of drugs:
heroin,
cocaine
alcohol)
he was found dead in his house.

[Nottingham Post (via Internet Archive), 09/10/2013, Sneinton man overdoses after benefits stopped]

62 stop worrying

You are a fucking bitch”: a man’s voice.
Then the sound of violent banging,
a woman’s sobs.
Officers were on the way;
sobbing and breathing heavily,
she said the man had retreated.
Police arrived and arrested him.
She had opened her window.
If the man had succeeded in getting through the door
she was prepared to jump two floors to escape.

The woman was calling from her bedroom.
She had been placed in ‘exempt’ supported housing
after leaving prison –
a five-year term for serious fraud and deception.
She had a history of mental illness:
suicide attempts, spells in psychiatric hospitals.
She had been the victim of violent abuse
at the hands of a former partner:
twice he had fractured her skull;
marks on her arms; burn scars
snaking across her chest,
where he had set her on fire
while she slept.
The man hammering on her door that night
was a troubled alcoholic with demons of his own.
He was under
a suspended prison sentence
for making threats with a machete.
Police ultimately did not bring charges against him –
a result of conflicting versions of events that night.
“Officers attended the address just after midnight
and arrested a man.
It was alleged he had
been verbally aggressive to the woman,
made threats, and
damaged the door to her room.
The woman was not injured.
The man was later released without charge;
the property owner said
the damage to the door
was already there.
He would not support
a prosecution.”
A Probation Service spokesperson said
“Prisoners released without somewhere to live
are 50 per cent more likely to reoffend.
Providing basic accommodation on release
helps cut crime and make
our streets safer.”
The man was moved to another property.

Exempt accommodation: supported housing
funded through a higher rate of housing benefit, exempt
from caps applied to normal housing.
Prison leavers, rough sleeper, refugees and migrants,
substance abusers, people with mental health issues,
disabilities, people at risk of homelessness:
strangers
housed together, mostly left
to their own devices, with arms-length help
amounting to an hour or so of dedicated support a week;
a support worker
at the end of a mobile phone.

She has lost weight and become more ill;
thefts were so common
she now stored her kitchen pans and cutlery in her bedroom.
She described a fellow resident:
he had not been out of his pyjamas or had a wash
for five weeks; he kept her awake all night.

Access is via a steel staircase.
Inside, the corridors and shared kitchen and common room
are monitored by CCTV with audio mics;
private conversations may be listened to.
Bedrooms are small.
A hole burnt in the kitchen top,
rusted hobs. The common area and kitchen
are full of the belongings of one of the tenants;
crudely written notices in felt tip
on stereo, tv, kitchen gear:
‘hands off’.
Heating comes from plugged in storage heaters.
In the night it’s freezing.

“I eat two sausages and vegetables every night,
cereal in the morning.
I don’t drink, don’t take drugs, yet
it’s all around.
Nobody seems to do anything much about it.”
At her lowest point she tried to jump in front of a train.
She was pulled back at the last minute;
another spell in psychiatic hospital.
“While living here
suicide is the only thing
that goes through my head,
day in,
day out.
The owners say I am too much hard work for them,
they said
they didn’t have problems
before I moved in.
It’s not a great place to be.
The landlord told me
‘just ignore it’, stop worrying
about other people.”

[Birmingham Live, 25/09/2021, Chaos, fear and suicide attempts – life inside ‘exempt’ housing in Birmingham]