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It's an old story now. This is only half a year of a long life for Ken, but for me it is a flashback of endless nights. One.

The choice to be a social worker may be due to a slight assistance, or may be influenced by the Hong Kong station's video. In addition to social workers like me, who have gone through written examinations, interviews, political trials and medical examinations, a group of older comrades has been drawn from the Prisons Department, the Education Department and the Public Prosecution Service. At the time, such community corrective social workers restricted access to places of residence (because locals were better at doing their jobs), which also enabled me to reconcile the wishes of my parents with a job of iron. In 2004, after taking up duty, I received two work cards, a temporary work permit for the Department of Justice and a social worker ' s work permit, after which I was assigned to work in an old town block. Fortunately, I was brought in by two masters, one an old comrade of the prison system and the other an old trade union worker. A working group was set up between me and the masters to serve mostly probation, parole and on-call sentences. In the first few months, I often had to go to the police station with an introductory letter from the Street Justice Office to retrieve the civil registry file, carefully copy, calibrate and enter the records of the registered corrections officers into the Department of Justice's system, and complete the “one by one” for the community corrections staff to serve. The police officers on duty at the police station will take out several large files at a time and will allow me to copy them in a small room on the side. There is a confluence of old and new legal instruments, such as criminal judgements and criminal decisions in the civil registry, which are still handwritten. Some of the clients have been “many-times in court” since they were young, and that faded judgement and sentence reduction judgement aggregate a person's entire life, and even some judgements detail the beginning and end of their crimes, as if they were autobiography. I just got out of the ivory tower, where I have a poor social experience and can only learn from the files about the clients, trace their experiences, and then explore their living conditions with the help of the civil police or community cadres. The community corrections work has just begun, and everyone has crossed the river with stones, so there is no doubt that there will be too many human beings to admit that crime is in fact a problem in our society and that it is more at fault for personal or family reasons. Sometimes, the Civil Registry Police will make fun of me: "The little girl does this job, she deals with the bad guys every day, and she's very experienced in three or five years."

Our work is governed by territoriality, and the streets under my responsibility are both a concentration of old towns and urban centres of high economic growth, as well as the famous tourist attractions in Shanghai City, with a large number of expatriates, a large number of expatriates, a highly complex population and a wide range of criminal categories, with the largest number of economic crimes, except for conventional violent crimes. But a young man like Kenjin is rarely seen. He was then 16 years old and an accessory to the crime of robbery and was sentenced to three years ' imprisonment, suspended for three years. He is a single-parent parent, who is guilty of having dropped out of a vocational school, and his father, who has a previous record, focuses on the population (no re-education through labour) for the community. He was sentenced to a suspended sentence for being a minor at the time of the commission of the crime, together with the offer of compensation from old Mon, and came to me for community redress. Crime is a social deviation, and we may find it hopeless for the middle-aged who cross the line, but we will surely regret a young man who first crosses it. Two.

The first meeting was at the local police station. Ken was in the prison for eight months before he lost weight, was dark and said nothing. Officer Shaw, a local civil police officer, introduced him to me after a regular education: “This is the social worker who will be in charge of helping you, Mr. Xiao Bei.”

Standing up, looking, noding. Officer Shaw went on to say, “What are the difficulties in life with Mr. Bei?

Ken looked at me and didn't talk. When old Monsanto came late, Officer Shaw was a little angry and said in a very long manner: “Old Mon, this son is in charge. The robbery is a felony. He broke his head, not a young man.

"I know, Officer Shaw, I'll take care of him." Old man's smiling face. Officer Shaw again reminded me, "Ligen, you better get a school, don't do anything, or you'll go to jail. By the way, you can't leave Shanghai for years, okay?"

Stand up and nod your head. When he was young, he told me to take care of his case. I was also at the age of 20 and could not be as experienced as a civilian police officer. Whatever type of client or crime committed, I consciously set up a “psychological grade” according to age and correction, with more respect and care for the elderly, and with more affection and enthusiasm for the young. For Ken, that's it. The house is built in the old city of Shanghai. I'm going to go up the narrow, steep, non-ruled steps and turn the corner again to get to that corner less than 10 m2. There was only one couch, two beds and one cabinet in the room, with a curtain between the bed of the old man and that of the son. It's a very small space when you're talking to each other, and it's a good thing that this old room has a little balcony, and it's packed with all kinds of stuff, but it's got a lot of fun here. In his little heaven and earth, he can look over the old city's low flats and look across the street at the golden garden. - It was the best-defeated commodity house in Shanghai. Kenjian always sleeps, closes his door, doesn't have a cell phone and old Monk has only one little psychic. Given the fact that the first three months of correction are subject to individual education every week, I have spent all my time trying to find a strong body. On one occasion, after I routinely reported to Officer Shaw, that afternoon old Mon came to see me at the social worker's office. He smoked a cigarette and said, "Mrs. Bea, we've had a good time. The little one was smart as a child, went to the national art competition and took a gold medal."

Under 50 years of age, he was well-equipped, but without a formal job, he worked on a casual basis, and the community had a low-security scheme for his parents and his children, and life was precarious. His forehead is a deep, radiant, and he has these eyes, and when he looks at you, even if he leans, there's a sharp light on you. "Why didn't Ken paint later?"

"I'm out of business, I'm divorced, the kid's out of business..."

"Why didn't the kids go to school after something happened?"

"He was fired from the college, and the kid said no reading."

“Father Ken, now in the early stages of correction, some of the regulations must be adhered to.” Once again, I set out the requirements that must be observed: one education per week, one education per month, 10 hours of public service and one written thought report. The Implementation Measures for Violation of the Provisions on Community Correction were also reiterated. Old Mon promised to cooperate and watch the baby, so he can't go back in. But when I asked him what he was doing when he was at peace, he was like, "Sleep, he was bored and had no money to go out."

"What do you do when you don't sleep?"

And then old Monty came back and said, "Go fuck yourself. Don't worry, I've confiscated his cell phone and given him no money...

The old Monks have been talking for a while, but they are all self-righteous, judging his son's condition in his bad and bad manner, and speaking out for him in his way of understanding the world. But I've also been able to put together a solid growth trajectory. When he was a kid, he was so lively, he liked to paint, and his grades were bad, but his classmates liked him; his mother left after his old man had failed in prison, he was placed at Grandpa's house and his mother sent $200 a month for maintenance; when he was released from prison, his sexuality had become intransigent and poorly educated, and his father and his son would just mix up; until he went to school, met some sociologists, started to skip school, he had to study for a year or less.

The social worker ' s site is located on the second floor of the shop in the old town, behind the street shop, and on the ground floor is a factory warehouse. And when I walked into this mess, I was almost naked: Because there is no independent cook in the old house around the house, the toilets are often on the floor, and residents are even asking for the toilet to be next to the gate of the council; there are a lot of people's clothes lying on the pole, as if they had just been hanging up, like a little rain; there is a temple and a nun, so there are a lot of locals who believe in a couple of centuries of old trees in the yard, and they always put fragrances on the floor around the tree... Despite the fact that the NEC has been encouraging civilization and managing the environment, little has been achieved. At the end of the evening, the fragrance of the food was raging around the door, and at the dawn of the Mall of Old Street was shaking the beautiful neon and writing the evening of Shanghai. There are only two social workers ' offices, the smaller of which is the anti-drug social workers ' office, and the larger of which is shared by our correctional and youth social workers. It's a small office, and it's hard enough to be separated from a “talk room”. In August, the weather was so hot, Ken first came to the social work place. I poured him a glass of water, and he drank it out, and he came out with a thought report, and I looked at it, with the right words, the intimacy, the right side. In addition to a regular description of the current life, a review of his guilt was carried out, which concluded with a slightly transcribed note: “Ensure that the discipline and assistance of Officer Shaw and Mr. Xiao Bei will be made available at his request”.

"Lichen, you're pretty, you're good, you're good, you're very thoughtful." I smiled, and I said, "It's been written, it's been practiced."

"What are you going to do lately? Dad says you sleep every day."

He was a little embarrassed: "There was nothing to do in the past, the weather was too hot to come out. Ms. Bea, I'll be there on time for the back work and the individual education.”

All of a sudden, the cell phone rings and Ken immediately pulls out a brand-new Ericsson phone and presses it. I wonder, "Where did you get this phone?"

"My mother gave it." He proudly promoted his cell phone, "She gave me $2,000 the other day, and I bought it."

"Well, give me the phone number, so I can find you."

"Okay -- but my mom gave me the money, my dad doesn't know, don't tell him..."

He said he had been in touch with his mother for years, but he did not want old Mon to know — until later I knew that old Mon and Ken had not been registered, nor was he married or born. In order not to have any more ties with the elderly, the mother and the child have met in private for many years. As a result of this communication, the social workers, both individually and in a centralized education, have come to the social worker ' s office almost on a weekly basis. The older social workers have liked him, and he has also gone out of his original silence. The local rectification staff went to the community ' s seniors ' room to clean up, and Ken went once, and came back to complain: "This is stupid. Mr. Bei, the table is either not dirty or is either dirty, and the table is all white. The old man there told him not to rub it. The table's gonna collapse." He covered his stomach with his own hands, beat the table with his own hands, laughed and rant. He stopped and asked me, "Is there any other work of public interest?" You can clean the streets."

As a result, Ken was placed in a nearby park to collect cigarette butts and clean garbage for 10 hours per month. The park is a small garden of the Gangnam style, which combines the life of the inhabitants with tourist tourism. It is particularly mixed, with morning-trained residents on the troupe of the mackerel, people who whisper "God bless" and a lot of photographers. I don't feel comfortable doing pro bono work with Ken. Worked hard, wearing gloves, holding long clips, and gently cleaning up paper towels, water bottles and one-off lunch boxes from the flower jar. In October, the weather gradually cooled down, and every time he worked, he was sweating. He will also take the initiative to clean up the work materials and return them to social work. In the short term, three months have passed, and the early stages of retrofitting have been smooth. And for that time, we worked hard to get him back to school. Although the former vocational schools were not able to return, there were also a number of secondary and evening schools for social enrolment. It's good to paint, but he doesn't want to study art, but he's showing a lot of interest in carpentry. I know, because he likes motorcycles. The influence of peer groups is particularly important in overstepping young people ' s societies, helping them to build good peer relationships and integrate into society, whether in the present or in the long term, and to resume or continue their education. At the time, vocational education in Shanghai had grown rapidly, and we had contacted young social workers to develop a technology for the design or cooking of a manual computer. Old Mon rarely supports his son and has also taken a computer training commercial for Big Blue Bird North, which says that Ken is going to North University to make teachers at social workers laugh. And the time when the old Mon and the father-in-law were among those who came to the place of work. Old Monty got a part-time job, got a lot of room in the house, got a hair dye, and looked like some of his fun peers. At that time, I naively believed that young people would be less likely to commit a crime if they lived a life similar to that of their peers and were not out of school, out of order, unemployed. 4

On the 17th birthday of Ken, I ordered a fruit cake from Won-Jo and went to his house after work. Old Mon bought him a watch. He was happy to point to the cake and said he hadn't had a birthday in about 10 years. After eating the cake, we went to the little balcony to talk. The lights of the old city in the night were on fire, neon was wrong, the retrograde tablets of the old street were raised in the light of the night, the Modden building across the street was glowing, and a light was painted along the street. And he's got a little "politan" and he's got a few sips, and he's like, "Mr. Bea, I smoked cigarettes when I was little."

"How old did you start smoking?"

"Twelve. First he smoked "China" with his dad, then he lost the money, then he smoked the "Big Front Gate," then he got addicted, and then he lost the money, and then he smoked a bag of one dollar of non-filtered cigarettes, which was a spicy mouth." He put it down, and he said, "Is there a dollar of one pack of cigarettes?" "Of course he did," his eyes shined up, and he said, "It's a fine cigarette, no cigarette butt, like a chalk."

"This must be really bad."

"I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. I couldn't open a cigarette at 13."

I'm silent for a moment and I'm scared. Ken went on to say, "I was very good at drawing when I was a kid, and once I got a national gold medal, and I got a gold medal, a big one." He was happy to see it like, "Do you know where that gold came from?" And then suddenly he took it seriously. "Did you lose it?"

"No, it was sold!"

"It's you... did your dad sell it?" I wonder. Ken looked back at me, looked bright and laughed, "I sold it myself, and sold it to my classmates, $50."

"Is there a shortage of money?"

"Not really, just wanted the money, 50 bucks, and I ate a Kentucky burger, and the rest took me a long time. I felt so good at making money."

"Sell the medals, will you not get away with it?"

“No matter what, I can change money, as long as it's my thing! Money is all that matters!” he smoked so hard. Perhaps in the heart, money is a source of a strong sense of security, more important than affection, honour. Fortunately, there are parents who love him to help him solve his problems, and they are desperate and costless; unfortunate children can only gain a sense of security if they become rich and empowered. Everyone who looks like a tiger has the fear of throwing a rat's weapon. Ken's QQ, known as “The Lord of the Eagle Hall”, appears to be more outward, passionate and powerful online. He told me that the Eagle Hall was a branch of the East Gate, and he was the head of the division. I have no idea whether the East Gate is a real organization or whether it is a virtual world that young people are following the example created by Coco. I am afraid that he will once again become a member of society and will often remind him to be clean, but he does not care. A little comforted, he promised me that he would go to school after spring. Old Mon seems to be in the process of enrolling him in school - since being expelled from school and serving community sentences, he now has to go to private secondary schools. Then there was less face-to-face communication between me and Ken. After each communication, I need to put the conversation and important information on the desk and log. The administrative nature of the corrective work at the time, the monthly reporting system and the quarterly review of the billboards, led me to a stereotypical thinking about the work trail. It was as if it would be all right to make regular phone calls, write them down and submit them at the end of the month. But the complexity of corrective work is such that it can penetrate? How deep is the caring for people, the insight into society and the understanding of the system. 5

The month of December turned around and the end of the year was the busiest. The city-wide rectification social workers organized a party, and a number of programmes were created around the work, including reading, singing and dancing, small items, etc. One of the little pieces, The Great Corrections, the performer, changed the "Northeasters are Live Thunder" of the population of Yukimura, and the lyrics, "We're not afraid of anyone who comes down the hill...", sings what we see as correcting the object in our eyes. In the small piece, the last home and the best, I also dreamt of a good future for every one of the corrective subjects, especially for standing. But soon after, I got a call from Officer Shaw. His voice is low: "Bed, is Ken connected to you now?"

"Always connected."

"When was the last contact?"

"On the day before Christmas." I answered, "I'm not feeling well." “You listen to me, Ken, on Christmas night, on a bike robbery, and a carjacking, and a violent assault.

My heart is cold and my limbs are numb. "Lichen's phone is off, and his old man can't find him. Bed, can you find him? How do you normally contact him?"

"I... we sometimes contact QQ, and call most of the time."

"Well, then you find a way to ask him out on QQ. We'll take action to trap."

"Entrapment?"

"Yes, I need your help."

“No, no.” I was conscious of rejecting, “We social workers cannot be involved in trapping, which is contrary to work ethics.”

I was so nervous and I resisted. “Bey, remember, you're not a legal social worker, you're an ordinary person and you have a duty to cooperate with the police.” The voice of Officer Shaw is beyond question. "I'll try to persuade him to turn himself in."

“The risk is too high and he is now a dangerous person to be brought to justice as soon as possible.” Officer Shaw's voice is still low, but his tone is running out. "I don't want to do it, Officer Shaw." I'm confused, but I don't want to make excuses. But Officer Shaw didn't give up, he found the courthouse, he found my leader, he gave me ideas. “Bé, you have to cooperate with the civilian police. The leaders say. "I can't be involved in trapping. We have the principle of confidentiality."

“Now it's confidential. We'll arrest him as soon as possible and give him the chance.”

"Let's contact Ken's dad."

“Once old Mon understood the matter, the consequences would be more serious if it were to happen again.”

I was shocked, and the leader also said that if the trap was successful, I would be rewarded with a flag. Other social workers have agreed that Ken is in danger of being robbed again or committing more violent crimes - – As a result of the robbery, Ken became the main perpetrator, and if the trap succeeds, he will face a re-sentencing sentence, which cannot be reduced to a crime during the corrective period, and will immediately be imprisoned. Ken is 17 years old, and I can't think back — all I know is that if I were involved in the trap, he would hate me. What if I got revenge on him? I'm a social worker, not a law enforcer, but a helper! The words "help yourself" and "self-determination of the case's owner" just came out of nowhere, and old Monk...

I was in a state of disarray, whether it was a mission or a moral dilemma, and I couldn't understand it, and finally under intense pressure — I agreed to trap. Police Officer Shaw has repeatedly assured me that he will have the security measures in place and that he will also have thought work with old Mon, and that we will help him, not harm him. The head of the social worker's station gave me three days' leave, and after the operation I can go back to rest and rest. Ken's cell phone was shut down and I had to wait for him to get on the computer. Finally, three days later, we contacted. "Why is the phone off? I'm not texting back." I asked. "I had a fight with Dad, and I didn't care about him, so I turned it off."

"Where have you been living lately?"

"In my friend's house."

"Lichen, come to the social worker's place tomorrow and bring this month's thought report. You're almost half a year old, and we'll reschedule the service." I tried to control my tone and was worried about what he heard. "Okay, come in the morning, I'll write the thought report, and I'll write it. Six.

New Year's lavish, silently condensed on the gravy high in front of the windows of the small building, oiled, chubby, unsmelling, unsmelling, and only loose muscles can smell. Officer Shaw was dressed in plain clothes and was very serious, and was ambushed with two colleagues in the first-floor yard. "Bea, just call him and make sure he comes, and the rest of you don't care. As long as he walks into this building, we'll move immediately.” Officer Shaw shot me in the shoulder, "Don't worry, we'll keep you safe."

And I stood in peace, standing in front of the window of the second-floor aisle, praying to myself that everything would be well, and that he should not resist, and that he should not hate me. "Teacher -- OK." As soon as Ken walked into the yard, he saw me on the second floor, wearing a black jacket, jeans, white teeth, and a young girl standing around. The next moment, he did a bending move, and his right hand was drawn from the chest to the lower left abdomen like a gentleman. "Teacher -- good." He repeats this ritualistic move, with two girls laughing all over her. I'm scared. Almost at the same time, several officers of Officer Shaw jumped. More than a month later, I met old Mon, and he seemed a little tired. “Bay, he's in the detention facility, and Officer Shaw helped him get a confession, saying he turned himself in to the social worker.” He looked at me and said, "Thank you for helping him."

I bowed my head, and I avoided the old morbid eyes, and I felt sorry. After four months, he was transferred to the new prison. Later, Officer Shaw told me that he had been sentenced to three years ' imprisonment. The sentence was light because of the circumstances of the surrender, but the previous suspended sentence should have been more than five years. And since then, We have fantasized on numerous occasions about what We saw once again, and on numerous occasions I have imagined why I should harm him. After he got out of prison, he's almost 23 years old. He's as old as I am. What does he think about what happened? We haven't seen each other again, and a year later, I've been transferred from this street, but I'll always wake up to this case, and every time I meet a young correctional officer, I'm too careful to doubt the details...

After more than a decade, community prisoners were handcuffed to electronic feet, and the streets and alleys were full of scouts, making crime more difficult and costly. Even more welcome is the fact that the Public Prosecution Act has increased the level of support for juvenile offenders, both in terms of psychological corrections and behavioural corrections, and in terms of support for juveniles serving sentences in the community. At present, minors are no longer subject to any collective form of education and public service, but are now being replaced by individual education, which, although it is community-based, is hidden. In the eyes of social workers, these children should be protected. But a man, especially a young man, still has a high cost of his crimes. The subject was addressed in one issue of the interview, in which a 26-year-old ex-convicted person described himself: in China, crime affects three generations, cannot take a job, cannot serve as a soldier, cannot do a regular job, and is hard to get a five-and-a-half-a-kind job. It is not possible to work as a salesman, a courier, a security guard and a cleaner, because it is not possible to issue a certificate of non-crime. Even when working, they often receive only half of average pay. If a person can work for 40 years in his or her lifetime, at least 1 million people who have served their sentence will lose their lives. One million or quantifiable losses, what are the non-quantifiable losses? That is why we deplore every young man for his fault. (The characters are all aliases)

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