In 1992, at age 20, Renford Farrier was convicted of second-degree murder in Toronto. As a young Black man, raised in Toronto, Renford was subjected to impacts of institutional racism, contributing to his experiences of both selling weed and hash and being involved with gang-related violence. Upon his conviction, he was sentenced to life in prison with possibility of parole after ten years. However, after over 30 years of incarceration, the majority spent in maximum security, Renford was still being denied parole, which he has heavily attributed to deeply entrenched racism and discrimination in the criminal justice system.
Over a span of more than three decades, Renford was incarcerated in numerous institutions across Canada. The first was Kingston Penitentiary, which is known for being one of the worst in the country. Regarding its reputation, he explained that it was “Canada’s most dangerous prison at the time because it had the highest body count”, elaborating that it had the highest rate of murder, disease, and suicide. As a young man going into such a dangerous environment, being incarcerated for the first time, Renford knew that above all else, he needed to focus on survival:
“Survival is your only thought. If you have other thoughts, then you’re probably not going to make it. One of the things that I always made sure I did when I was there was watch what everybody else did. I’d never been to prison before- what did I know? I didn’t want to end up doing something that could cost me dearly”.
Although Renford describes Kingston Penitentiary as the most physically dangerous institution that he spent time in, the direct, psychological and emotional, racism and discrimination he experienced in other institutions was in many ways, just as severe, even if he was less vulnerable to physical harm. Renford has described Springhill Institution, based in Springhill, Nova Scotia, as the institution where racism and discrimination was most prominent. When asked which prison was the worst, he shared “If I’m being 100 per cent honest with you, they were all bad. While Springhill might not have been a violent jail, and we didn’t have to worry about things of that nature, we had no rights for the prisoners. Administration didn’t respect you in their prison”.
The unchallenged power, combined with racial bias, of correctional officers, and the authorities who oversee them, repeatedly prevented Renford from being granted parole. According to Renford, officers can “… write whatever they want on your file, unchallenged. That’s the problem. If you try to challenge it, you have to go through a procedure, and they know that procedure takes forever. Whatever is written on your file usually just stays there”. Officers believe, or pretend to believe, what they want, even if their perception of what is happening is distorted. For example, Renford was speaking about music with another prisoner, and months after the conversation, the other prisoner was asked by their officer if they felt safe during it. The officers who had witnessed the conversation misperceived Renford’s passion as anger, even though the topic of conversation had been light. Although this was not actually a negative interaction, the officers were still able to frame it that way, which was put on Renford’s file to be used against him. Renford views the officer’s misperception of the incident as the result of unconscious, rather than conscious, racism: the product of ignorance, rather than hatred, and a symptom of deeply embedded racism on an institutional scale. Racism in this form may be subtle and often without malicious intent, but its impacts can be just as harmful and even more difficult to challenge; especially for prisoners who have had their rights stripped away from them. For many years, Renford tried to go against the grain; fight back through non-conformance: “Go against the grain- especially if the grain is abusive”. However, the consequences of doing this can be severe, leading to even worse abuse and greater restrictions.
After numerous attempts, Renford was denied parole again in 2017, even though he had substantial support behind him, and a writ of habeas corpus was filed. Fortunately, in 2021, he met Emma Halpern, a human rights lawyer, co-founder of PATH Legal, and executive director of the Elizabeth Fry Society of Mainland Nova Scotia. Having Emma as his lawyer, along with the support of the entire PATH Legal team, was a necessary game-changer:
“Emma was able to actually make a case based on systemic racism and unconscious bias. She said she wouldn’t quit- she was real and committed to it”.
Finally, in December of 2023, through the efforts of PATH Legal’s pro bono work, which would usually be valued at $10-$15,000, Renford was granted parole and released.
After decades of incarceration, where his human rights were violated daily and the concept of freedom felt unattainable, Renford is grateful to be living a life that is gradually getting closer to normal. Many people have asked him, “How are you adjusting?”. To that, he says “What are you talking about? I’m not adjusting. You adjust to jail- I don’t adjust to coming back outside to the world. You get back to living again. This is coming back to normalcy”.
Now that he is free, Renford is fiercely fighting to not only expose the criminal justice system’s prevalence of racism, discrimination, and human rights abuse, but is actively striving to make it accountable through pursuing a career in public speaking: “A long-term goal is to eventually make a career of public speaking about my lived experience. One of the things I hope for the most out of all this is to find a way to make the system that I was in accountable- not for me, but accountable in general. Moving forward, I hope that I can put a dent in this steel wall that they have up”. Additionally, he wants to use his knowledge of physical and mental health to support others on their pathways to overall wellness and recovery. To make this happen, Renford, who is a self-titled “exercise addict”, would eventually like to attain his personal trainers’ license. While incarcerated, he maintained both his physical and mental health by working out daily, which he has continued to do post-release. He now also works for the John Howard Society of Nova Scotia as a transition support worker, providing direct support and guidance to those who are transitioning back into the community from incarceration. Renford believes in using a harm reduction approach to supporting those struggling with substance abuse and trauma: “There are always going to be drugs and there are always going to be people who take drugs- you just need to have the proper people trying to help those people”.
Renford’s dedication to openly sharing his experiences, with the goal of preventing future harm against those who are vulnerable to racism, discrimination, and other injustices, inspires our team to keep striving towards justice, equity, and safety for all.
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