Auckland Prison

Auckland Prison. A fortress of concrete and steel. It’s a place where time stretches out like a vast, empty plain. A place where hope can feel as distant as the stars. Auckland Prison, better known as Paremoremo, has housed some of New Zealand’s most notorious criminals. Its history is etched in tales of violence, desperation, and the enduring human spirit. The daily grind at Paremoremo begins before sunrise. Cells unlock around 7 a.m., revealing the cramped quarters where two inmates share a space. Double-bunking, a practice implemented in 2009, has become a source of friction, a constant reminder of the lack of privacy and personal space. Breakfast arrives on trays, prepared by inmates working in the prison kitchen. The food, according to former inmates, is uniformly average. The Department of Corrections budgets $4.50 a day per prisoner, providing meals that are adequate but far from satisfying. One former inmate, convicted of burglary and drugs, described the meals as “okay, but nothing special”. Another inmate, who served time for murder, recalls witnessing fights erupt over the meager portions. Beyond the daily meals, access to food is limited. Inmates can order snacks like biscuits, chips, and noodles from an internal shopping list, but fresh produce and other nutritious options are scarce. Violence is a constant companion within the walls of Auckland Prison. Petty disputes can escalate into brutal confrontations. One inmate recalled a man being “seriously maimed over a piece of toast”. There are organized fights, known as “The Contender” at Mt Eden prison and “Fight Club” at Paremoremo. Inmates’ names are drawn from a hat, and those selected are forced to fight while others watch and place bets. Refusal to participate often results in a severe beating. In the cell blocks, the television becomes a source of contention. The dominant inmate controls the remote, asserting their power over their cellmate. This forced proximity creates a volatile environment where violence simmers just below the surface. The presence of gangs further fuels the cycle of violence. Shanks, makeshift weapons crafted from anything sharp or pointy, are common currency. Even soap, ground into powder and molded around a rolled newspaper, can become a deadly weapon. Despite the harsh realities of life inside, there are glimmers of humanity. Some inmates find solace in creative pursuits, playing guitar, singing, or carving intricate designs into bone and wood. Others cling to the hope of rehabilitation, working hard to ensure they never return once released. But the transition back to society is often abrupt and challenging. Inmates receive a $350 grant, known as “Steps to Freedom,” and a two-week waiting period before they can access benefits. Many struggle to find work and support, leading to a high rate of reoffending. Auckland Prison stands as a stark reminder of the complexities of the justice system. It’s a place of confinement and violence, but also a place where resilience and the human spirit endure.