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08/21/2010 A working life: The probation officer

Meeting murderers and violent offenders is an everyday occurrence for Kelly Grice but, as she tells Leo Benedictus, if she transforms a life, it's worth it

Ask people why they do the job they do, and they will often rummage lengthily for an answer. Ask Kelly Grice, however, as I just have, and the response is clear and immediate. "I'm actually really attached to this job," she says. "It's the kind of job that, at the end of the week, as hectic as it will always be, I'll have that sense of having actually achieved something. I've done something that has had an impact on someone, or has made a meaningful contribution in some way."

Though firmly made, this something of an understatement. By working with offenders to help them stop offending, probation officers are actually required

"Our job is strange in that when it goes right, nothing happens," Grice agrees, as we face each other in a meeting room at Cannock magistrates court, north of Birmingham, which she is visiting today. "But when it goes wrong," she adds. "Then it's a big media situation." On such rare occasions, with all the oversight and teamwork that surrounds the job, it would be almost impossible for one person to be held solely responsible. Yet probation officers must still learn to live with that pressure. No wonder Grice expects me to be surprised that she enjoys being one so much.

"There has to be an alternative to prison," Grice says. "You can't just lock everybody up." Yet, having agreed to let some criminals out, the idea does persists that probation officers, bewitched by the offenders' charm, and their own ideals, are soft on them. And, as a young woman with a psychology degree who talks placidly about "challenges" and "making choices", Grice would no doubt slot neatly into the stereotype.

Yet, as she points out, helping released prisoners to build better lives is an essential part of protecting people from them. "A lot of the general public want people removed from the community," she says. "But making people feel not wanted is only going to escalate their risk. If they've got a job and good accommodation, then you've given them something that they don't want to lose … The public perception is that we're there to hold offenders' hands and look after them and make sure they get whatever they want, but it's not like that."

Nor are Grice's conversations with offenders entirely confidential. She usually meets them alone, and would never pass on personal matters to friends or family, but she is obliged to tell social services if she thinks children may be at risk, and must also report any new offences she hears about. "I had a recent case where threats were made by an offender towards someone else, and that got passed on to the police," she says, by way of example. "It made me very unpopular with the offender, and I had to deal with that when he came in. But it's amazing how you can get someone turning up being very threatening and aggressive, and yet I think that guy actually left and thanked me. It took a while, but a lot of times it is about letting them talk through what it is they're angry about."

The point, which is never hidden, is to convince criminals to change their ways â€" which ultimately only they can choose to do. "What we are the experts in," says Grice, "is getting them to understand the triggers and patterns to their offending, motivating them in the first place to set themselves the goals that they want to meet, to get them to address their risk, and buy into that … A big part of what I feel my work is, is getting them to recognise their need to change."

Naturally, this is not a challenge to attempt with common sense alone. So, despite having her psychology degree, and a long-standing interest in criminology, Grice still had to complete another degree, and an NVQ level 3, in community and criminal justice, as well as a diploma in probation studies, before she qualified as a probation officer five years ago. Her studies took two years, interwoven with her trainee work, and were utterly exhausting. But if you were going to do what she does every day, you'd want to be prepared too.

"I'll always be working with the risky people," she explains. "As a probation officer, that is the majority of my caseload: violent people, sexual offenders, and so on." So, perhaps this Monday morning, she might have a large and violent murderer with an anger problem coming to join her in a small room while she tells him things he doesn't want to hear? And she's relaxed about that, is she? "You're always cautious of the risks," she says. "If it's someone that serious, then I would most likely make a decision to get the police risk assessor in there with me. And we don't take anything into the interview room that could be thrown. No hot drinks, or anything like that." I nod, though I would find this of little comfort.

Despite doing her best to influence such people for the better, it is also important for Grice to accept that her best will often not be good enough. "Sometimes you can have an offender that won't work well, say, with a female officer," she says, "or won't work well with a younger officer … We can have a very difficult time with male domestic violence offenders who are very controlling." Yet when I present her with the wearily familiar story of the drug addict, most often, who repeatedly reoffends, she insists there can still be grounds for optimism â€" or at least no grounds for giving up. "Without probation intervention," she says patiently, "they may have been back quicker. The fact they didn't offend for a year, that's a year's less victims. I would see that as still worthwhile."

And in some cases excellent, of course, even the criminals do start to look at things differently. "I have someone on my affairs at the moment which is sort of made a career, be a criminal," she says, suddenly animated. "They 've been in and out of prison for many years because of drug addiction. But this man is absolutely thriving."

She pauses to consider whether she is confident about her next comment. Then she decides she is. "And I do think they won't come back again. They've found their reason to change," she says.

CV

Pay Between £28,185 and £35,727 as a band-four probation officer.

Hours "You work to demand, really. If something needs doing then you stay until that's done. At times, I've been at work until 8pm or 9pm most nights for a few weeks. Working through lunch seems to happen more often than it should."

Work / life balance \\ "You have to be very disciplined. Otherwise, I 've seen him with a large number of employees, you' re-gain, at 8 am and 8 pm home, and you don 't have a lot of left for the owners. It can be very difficult. "

Best thing "Seeing people making positive changes in their lives, and getting the sense that you are helping to minimise the number of other victims of really horrific offences."

Worst thing "You have to sit and read victim statements, and they do impact on you. It can be really, really difficult when it's children. But you do have to be mindful of what an offender does."

Overtime

Lunch , 'I got called out to an emergency meeting at a hostel yesterday morning, so I picked up a tuna sandwich in a garage on the way.' If Kelly was not a probation officer\\ "I would like to work with animals. I could not 't be a veterinarian, I could not' t put them to sleep. But I always say, if I win the lottery, I 'd open the animal sanctuary. ' The biggest myth probation is 'that we are there for the offender above the public. That's the one I get â€" they think I'm promoting the rights of someone who has done some really horrific things.'

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