Original subtitles

Craiova, Romania.

In the cramped suburbs of this small city

lies one of the country's toughest maximum security prisons.

The majority of inmates here are from Romania's excluded Gypsy community,

doing time for rape, robbery, and crimes of horrific violence.

Who did you kill?

A Gypsy king.

I cut his throat, cut open his internal organs and his hand.

My name is Raphael Rowe.

I'm going to spend a week locked up inside this Romanian prison.

But it's not my first time behind bars.

I was convicted in the UK of a murder I didn't commit

and sentenced to life with no parole.

It took me 12 long years to clear my name.

Now I'm traveling the globe to discover what life is really like

inside some of the world's toughest prisons.

Sometimes, it's the inmates that make a prison tough.

And Craiova Prison in Romania has some of the toughest.

Its violent criminals reflect a shocking social problem.

An estimated 60% of the prisoners are Roma Gypsies.

But Gypsies make up just 3% of the country's population.

I'm spending a week inside Craiova Prison.

But before I do time,

I want to discover from Roma Gypsies themselves

why so many of their people are locked up.

I'm here to meet one of the local Gypsies.

He's bringing me into his family home,

to show me a different side of the Gypsy community here in Romania.

Until the mid-19th century, Gypsies in Romania were slaves.

After centuries of persecution,

many choose to live apart from Romanian society.

This family's clan, the Kalderari, have traditionally worked with metal.

We sell them. We sell all kinds of metals:

brass, bronze, aluminum, as well.

This was our job since we were children.

Grandparents, children...

Everyone did it!

Why do you think Gypsies here

get such a bad reputation amongst the Romanian community?

There are several Gypsy clans who steal,

who don't live well.

But we are not like them!

I've been welcomed into this family's home.

- Hey, hey! - Here we go.

But there's a darker side to the Gypsy story in Romania.

The sky-high imprisonment rate for Gypsies

is linked to centuries of social exclusion

and traditions within the Gypsy community itself.

Child marriage and poor education trap many in poverty,

and for some clans, criminality and violent feuds

are ingrained in a macho, Gypsy way of life.

It'll be interesting to find out whether the people I meet in prison...

are pushed into the situation they're in,

because they have been discriminated against,

or whether they're outright criminals.

I'm on my way to spend a week inside Craiova Prison

- to find out more about its Gypsy inmates.

I'm a bit unnerved about where I'm going. I don't know what to expect.

Everything from this moment onwards is going to be decided for me,

dictated by prison guards.

That level of control

reduces you to... a nonentity.

Come with me. This way, please.

Every time I go into a prison,

it brings back tough memories of my 12 years behind bars in Britain.

The first step to becoming a prisoner is a security check.

Anything else on you?

No.

Telephones? Knives?

- Guns? - No.

- Grenades? - No.

Take your top off. Remove your clothes.

I will perform a thorough search down to your underwear.

Over the course of check-in, I'm stripped, searched, and interrogated.

It's just form after form after form.

I feel like I'm signing my life away.

Sign here, please.

The barrage of form filling

is a reminder that from now on, nothing is private.

Let's go.

We're here.

- We're here? - Yeah.

Before joining the main prison population,

I'm taken to quarantine,

where new inmates are monitored for 21 days.

It's a chance to risk assess prisoners

and isolate those with violent criminal rivalries.

Here, everyone from carjackers to murderers

share the same tiny set of caged exercise yards,

the only outdoor space available in this part of the prison.

I'm let inside to meet some of the newest arrivals.

It's my first opportunity to see what conditions in this prison are really like.

Do any of you guys speak English?

We do not speak it very well.

How long have you guys been in here already?

One month.

How many times have you been to prison?

Twice. Now is the third time.

These guys obviously know their way around,

and I'm keen to find out what to expect after quarantine.

The cells are very nasty and overcrowded.

You feel you have no air.

What community do you come from?

There are many Roma Gypsies here.

There's no justice for us.

We feel that Romanian punishments are more suitable for dogs than people.

Actually, not even dogs deserve this.

Of the first prisoners I've met,

three of them are from the Gypsy community.

The one thing that struck me more than anything

is the anger on their expressions, the, um...

the words of victimization.

They are saying they are victims of a system that's treated them unfairly.

Is what these guys are telling me, in quarantine,

representative of what happens to Gypsies?

After the assessment period, prisoners are allocated to a cell.

I've been assigned to the medium security wing,

housing inmates deemed to be a lower risk,

serving sentences for all manner of crimes, from robbery to murder.

With almost a thousand inmates in Craiova's cramped city plot,

space is tight.

In recent years, prisons across Romania have been struck by violent riots.

The main cause: poor conditions and chronic overcrowding.

I'm a bit apprehensive,

based on what these guys said to me about the conditions:

the cramped-ness, the not being able to breathe.

And I feel slightly panicky about...

about the idea that I'm gonna be cocooned in a space.

Hello. Hello.

My name is Raphael. I'm your new cellmate.

I don't know if any of you speak English?

Yeah, I speak a little bit of English.

- Oh, hi. - Yeah, hello.

I'm Raphael. Can you tell these other guys that I'm their new cellmate?

No problem. We're gonna... We're gonna begin with these guys here.

- Okay. - Yeah.

One prisoner, Armand, is happy to show me around.

And as I meet my other cellmates,

it's clear this cell is not quite as crowded as I'd feared.

- Okay, so how many beds is there? - We have, like, 24.

- There's one for me? - Yeah, there's a bed for you.

Here, maybe one here.

With bedding still in place,

it looks like the previous occupant left in a hurry.

Does this belong to someone already?

No, it is free. There are many free beds.

Have you been in here when there's been as many as 24?

Yeah, but when there is 24, it's a little bit...

- Overcrowded? - Yeah.

With rumors of chronic overcrowding,

I'm wondering if the guards have removed some prisoners for my benefit.

Or perhaps they're just camera shy.

There are still 13 men in here.

With little privacy, it wouldn't take much for tensions to spill over.

So, once the door's locked and the guards are out of sight,

flare-ups among these dangerous inmates are common.

Having had experience of prison myself, back in England,

I wouldn't be intimidated by anybody or anything.

But how do you deal with the aggression of another cellmate

who's becoming aggressive and maybe threatening?

Sometimes, the problems from the cell, we resolve them here.

If you have a difference with someone, will you have a one-on-one fight?

You can have a fair fight. At the end of it, that ends it?

If he is a big problem, we're gonna...

tell them, "Stop here. Go outside."

What else is available to me in here, Armand?

- We have here the shower. - Can I see?

Yeah, of course. Come.

- This is the shower? - This is the shower.

The facilities seem in reasonably good condition.

- The three showers work? - Yeah, three showers working. We have...

Although, with prisoners stashing food items

to supplement their meager prison diet,

this cell has attracted the odd unwelcome visitor.

Like the majority of prisoners in this cell, Armand is a Gypsy.

I'm curious to know more about his community

and what brought him to prison.

- How long is your sentence? - Ten years.

- It's a long time. - It is a very long time.

Can I ask what you're doing ten years for?

- Attempted murder. - Attempted murder?

Yeah, attempted murder.

It was a fight.

It implicated my cousins

and all my family...

with other Gypsy guys.

- Right. - Yeah.

After a dispute over money between his cousin and a rival Gypsy family,

Armand himself became a target.

These Gypsy Romanians came to my home, and they beat me...

and they said to my cousin...

"We're gonna get you." Something like that.

Is that part of the Gypsy culture, that if one person from a family gets involved,

- they target the whole family? - Yeah.

- All right. - It's like this.

After the beating, Armand was intent on revenge.

One day, my cousin called me and asked, "Come. These guys are over here."

I went to meet him, and he's beginning the big fight.

And I took out the gun, and I shot him.

How did it feel, pointing that gun at this person that you wanted to hurt?

And I suspect, Armand, when you pointed the gun at him,

you wanted to kill him.

That was your intention, not to hurt him, but to kill him.

Yeah, sure.

Yet the question is how I felt before that, when he beat my family.

And I have this anger in my heart,

and that's why I felt nothing after.

For Armand, blood feuds and vendettas between clans

are an expected part of Gypsy life.

All too often, this brutal culture of revenge

leads many Gypsies either to death or a long prison sentence.

As my first day in Craiova comes to an end,

I'm struck by just how confined conditions in the prison really are.

Just like Brixton Prison in London, where I did time, space is scarce.

It means inmates spend a lot more time in their cells.

I've seen people swinging lines.

By that, I mean they tie bits of fabric together,

put something on the end of it, swing it,

and throw it to a prisoner next door.

Using lines to pass messages, cigarettes, and other contraband

is common in prisons the world over.

It has the hum and the noise of a prison,

including prisoners shouting out their cells.

So, whatever freedoms they do have, this is a place of confinement,

and everything around me reminds me of that.

It's a new day in Craiova Prison.

And for many prisoners, it's time to go to work.

By taking a job in places like the prison's shoe workshop,

inmates receive an income and earn time off their sentence.

Even so, not everyone chooses to work.

Those who don't are confined to their cells for most of the day.

Today, I've been assigned a job in the kitchens.

Hi.

My name is Raphael.

I've been told to come here to help with the cooking today?

- Dragusin. - Dragusin? Raphael.

Showing me the ropes is Gypsy inmate Dragusin Saban.

Today, we're making doughnuts.

It's easy. We just take them and shape them.

Do you have to train to work in here?

Not really. We come and learn here,

but anyone that knows how to do it is welcome.

So, do you think, when you get out of prison,

the skill you've learned in this kitchen will help you get a job?

Yes, I'm sure it will help me.

Unemployment in the Gypsy community that Dragusin is from is close to 50%.

So, for him, learning a new skill like this

could be a vital part of his rehabilitation.

How long are you serving?

I got 14 years.

That's a long time.

What did you get sentenced to 14 years for?

For rape.

Really?

That's quite a serious offense.

Are you guilty of the rape?

Yes.

The boys and I were at a party. We started drinking and then it happened.

The woman you raped, was she a Gypsy?

No.

In Romania, the rape of a non-Gypsy by a Gypsy is especially controversial.

Dragusin believes this may have affected his sentence.

Do you think that your 14 years for the rape you committed was too much?

A lot of people convicted for murder get eight-, nine-, or ten-year sentences.

But I got 14 for rape. It's not fair.

I doubt whether the woman you raped would agree with that.

I don't think so.

In many prisons, sex offenders are so hated by other inmates

that they're segregated for their own safety.

So, seeing someone like Dragusin

work in the general prison population is a surprise.

In my time in prison, sex offenders were segregated.

Sex offenders wouldn't dare come out of the hidden environment

that they were kept in by the prison system.

So I am really surprised that he is,

and he says, living amongst the general population.

With work in the kitchens done,

it's time to move on to my next job: delivering the food.

On this wing, the lack of space means all prisoners

are forced to eat in their cells.

So I'm going door-to-door with chief server Michael.

Dinner's served. Bring your bowls.

It's chicken soup and the rice dish.

On this wing, 20 or more prisoners are locked up in a single, cramped room

for up to 20 hours a day.

And if the cells aren't bad enough, the food looks less than appetizing.

This is one of the options, but it's not very popular.

I've only seen one guy in about five or six cells go for this one.

But inside, beggars can't be choosers.

- Do you like the food? - Yes.

We don't have much choice.

For Michael, a small income isn't the only perk of this prison job.

For every day he works, he gets time off his sentence.

I've earned 545 days so far.

So, you've already reduced your sentence by over a year.

How long is your prison sentence?

Twenty-five years.

What crime did you commit to get 25 years?

Murder.

What happened?

My wife cheated on me with my sister's husband.

I caught them both at it, and that was it.

You killed them both?

No, just her.

Just my wife.

How hard is it to live with what you did, here in prison?

It's been hard for me ever since I got arrested, but now I'm used to it.

It's been so many years. I'm used to suffering.

Michael's story is a reminder that, in this prison,

it's not just Gypsies who've committed violent acts against women.

It seems this prison job is a way to distract himself

from the memory of that crime.

How do you live a normal life?

There's gonna be so many memories of what he destroyed

that he will never be able to escape his crime.

I suppose what comes out of this for me is that you're never that far away

from another prisoner who's committed an horrendous crime.

Back in medium security, it's yard time.

For three precious hours a day, prisoners are allowed out to exercise.

My cellmate, Armand, has challenged me to a game of football tennis.

As a seasoned inmate, he's had a lot of practice

and makes for a tough opponent.

Five for us.

Gradually, the tide starts to turn.

Go!

Oh, man, look at me. I'm sweating. Um, it's a good game. Very competitive.

Although, he is a bit of a cheater, Armand.

- Repeat this one, as well. - Repeat this one, as well?

Every point I've played, we've gotta repeat.

It was 5-1 a minute ago. It's now 6-6. Where'd he get that from?

Despite Armand's sometimes underhand tactics,

he eventually concedes defeat.

- We are the champions. - That's true, yeah.

Good match, man.

Good match.

Champion, champion, champion.

Back in the cell, it'll be another 21 hours

before many of the prisoners are allowed out again.

Armand has been in jail for much of his adult life.

When it comes to killing time, he's an expert.

He's invited me to a game of rummy with fellow Gypsy inmate Mustafa Marian,

serving a 20-year sentence for murder.

It's a good chance for me to find out more about Gypsy life.

Before I came here, I heard that...

most of the prisoners inside Craiova Prison

are made up of Gypsies. Why is that?

I think, first of all, it's the education and the poverty.

So, many in the Gypsy community who have not been educated...

- Yeah. - Like you.

Yeah, like me.

And why does that lead to more Gypsies coming to prison?

Your crime is not a crime of poverty or education, is it?

Yours is a crime of violence.

Yeah.

I don't know. I don't know.

The truth is that we, the Roma, we don't like to work so much.

That's the reputation that Gypsies have probably around the world.

This is true, yeah.

For Armand, poor education and a weak work ethic

are the toxic combination that leads so many Gypsies into crime.

But when the conversation turns to Mustafa's marriage,

I get another, even more shocking glimpse into Gypsy culture.

So, how old was he when he got married?

I got married when I was about 13, 14 years old.

And how old was your, um, bride?

She was about 13.

- Thirteen? - Yeah.

And I know that's the, um, Gypsy tradition and culture.

Is it still acceptable that 13 and...

Now?

- Yeah. - Yeah.

You have a daughter. Your daughter comes,

and you'd be happy to marry her off at 12 or 13 years old?

I must go with it.

I know how you see this, but this is how we live.

Historically, arranged child marriages

have been a way for Gypsies to preserve their clan bloodlines.

To break such traditions

would bring shame and dishonor on Armand's family.

But it's easy to see why so many ordinary Romanians

see this aspect of the Gypsy culture as criminal.

In a crowded prison like Craiova,

inmates usually take any chance to get out of their cells.

Today, bad weather means

even the toughest prisoners are choosing to stay locked up.

All, except one.

Gulie Florian is one of Craiova's most notorious inmates.

Serving a life sentence, he's a Rudari,

an ethnic minority that most Romanians consider the same as Roma Gypsies.

I've heard his case exposed the most violent side of Romania's ethnic tensions.

- Hello. How are you doing? - Hello.

- Good to meet you. - I'm Gulie.

Gulie, Raphael.

I'm joining Gulie's improvised gym workout.

- It's a punishing routine...

that leaves me in no doubt I'm dealing with an alpha prisoner,

the toughest of the tough.

You're good.

You're good. Tiring, right?

How often do you come and do this?

Two, three times a week.

And what are you in prison for?

What crime did you commit?

Murder.

How did you end up killing someone?

We went to a nightclub.

I wanted to get a table for my friend and I.

But we were not allowed in the club, being Gypsies.

A guy came along. I didn't know that he was the owner of the nightclub.

He started insulting us, saying "Gypsies." He punched my friend.

Before long, the fight attracted the attention of Gulie's victim,

a non-Gypsy professional boxer.

The sportsman. His name was Gălbenuşe.

It was a fair fight, but I couldn't get the better of him.

I couldn't because he was big. Big.

He'd been working for 10-15 years as an MMA boxer.

And I cut him three times.

On his face.

Then in the back.

But I didn't know that I had stabbed him in the heart.

Do you get a lot of respect from the other prisoners

because of the person you killed?

Some of them, yes.

Especially the majority of Gypsies. They are happy.

Because there's no place for us in discos and clubs because of Romanian people.

Because they had been humiliated, punched, spat on.

Do you feel that you're being and have been discriminated against?

Yes, I was.

I wouldn't have gotten a life sentence

if the press hadn't made such a fuss about me being a Gypsy.

The press destroyed me.

For five months, the television screamed,

"Gypsy, Gypsy. He killed the sportsman, killed the boxer."

I was destroyed by the media.

Why? Because I'm a Gypsy? We are just people, like everyone else.

Racial discrimination was a common struggle for many

when I was in prison, including myself.

While there's no doubt Gulie deserves a harsh punishment,

I'm struck by his belief that he's been victimized

by a racist, segregated society.

I've been behind bars for a few days,

and I'm beginning to get a feel for prison life here.

But now, I'm going to spend time with the guards

to get their perspective.

And they are taking me to one of the most feared blocks

in the entire prison.

They have a maximum security prison block inside this high security prison.

And already it looks distinctively different,

on the outside, to the more relaxed blocks,

where I've met other prisoners over the last couple of days.

And I'm gonna be taken inside to see what it's like inside.

Locked in their cells for up to 23 hours a day,

the prisoners here are some of the country's

most dangerous rapists, murderers, and hired killers.

It's prison officer Jilayu's job to keep order in this volatile world.

This maximum security block, how does it differ

from the other cell blocks that are not so secure?

Here we have the most dangerous ones.

The ones with the longest sentences are here.

There have to be fewer of them in each cell in order to avoid conflict.

So, they are under total surveillance.

In here, guards must remain constantly vigilant.

Even the smallest item out of place could be used by a prisoner as a weapon.

Is there a set routine where you go into the cells every day to check?

And what are you checking for?

We check each cell.

And we check to make sure everything is in its place,

that the bars in the window are intact.

In this job, we need to be really alert.

On this wing, prisoners are kept locked down in tiny rooms,

three to a cell.

In 2017, the European Court of Human Rights

issued fines for poor conditions in Craiova.

So, when I ask to look inside a cell, the guards are understandably nervous.

What they're trying to do is show me a cell that's perfect.

They just opened up one cell.

They didn't like something in there. They didn't want me to see.

I'm starting to see how the guards are trying to manage

what I see and don't see, what I hear and what I don't hear.

Finally, the guards find a cell they're prepared to show me.

With basic amenities squeezed alongside a tiny sleeping area,

it reminds me of my solitary confinement cell back in Britain.

But here, three men must spend most of their time on their beds

for up to 23 hours a day.

This is harsh.

It's hard to convey how a human being

can be kept inside such a confined space for so many years.

It's hard enough when you do it on your own,

but to do it with somebody else?

There's just so many things that could trigger

among these very violent prisoners.

You need to feel this space to understand how oppressive it is.

Even the hardest man will find it difficult to cope with this.

Marius Burican has been locked up in one of these tiny cells for two years.

At only 23 years old, he's serving a life sentence.

While not a Gypsy himself, he grew up around Roma friends,

and was convicted for a violent knife crime

as part of a bitter Gypsy feud.

So today, I'm amazed to discover that his prison job

allows him to work with blades.

- Hello. - You Marius?

- Hello. - Nice to meet you. Raphael.

Nice to meet you.

So, you're the cellblock barber?

Yes.

All right, okay. And how long have you been cutting inmates' hair?

Almost five months.

And was you a barber outside?

- No. - No?

They needed a barber in maximum security.

And because of my good behavior, I was chosen for that role.

Not knowing how to cut hair, I learned step by step, inside.

How long are you serving?

I was sentenced to 22 years in prison.

What crime did you commit to be sent to prison for 20 years?

Contract killing.

A hitman?

Who did you kill?

A Gypsy king...

in exchange for a good amount of money and some gold.

A Gypsy king, known as a Bulibasha,

is a powerful clan leader.

Did you get the money?

No.

But you got 20 years.

Yes.

And you smile.

Marius's cellmate, Alex, was the middleman for the contract killing.

How did you kill the person?

Stabbing.

I had a machete with a 50 cm blade.

I cut their electricity.

He was sleeping in bed with his wife.

It was dark. Pitch black.

Finally, I found him

and hit him with the machete around the neck.

I cut his throat, cut open his internal organs and his hand.

You took someone's life.

And you have the faces of guys that don't know what they've done.

Especially you, Alex. The way you look at me,

you still seem quite shell-shocked by the fact that you're doing 20 years.

Maybe those sentencing us should have taken into account

that we didn't know what we were doing.

We even took the whole thing as a joke, in the beginning.

So, what's the consequence of killing a Gypsy leader?

Is there no comeback? No threat to your lives?

So what if it upsets them?

There's nothing they can do.

I mean, what are they gonna do?

Come and what? Say that we killed their leader?

Kill us? What can they do?

Marius and Alex seem strangely matter-of-fact about their crime.

But from what I've heard

about the Gypsy culture of revenge and bloody vendettas,

they may have to watch their backs.

This prison is full of Gypsies.

If these young adults...

are the target of Gypsies

who want revenge for the murder they committed...

They killed a Gypsy king.

This is the place it's gonna happen.

6:00 a.m., and it's a new day for the prisoners in medium security.

But for Armand, this is no ordinary day.

- So, it's visits day today. - Yeah, today is visit day.

- Who are you expecting... - Family.

- Your family? - Yeah, my wife and children.

- So, you've got to spruce yourself up? - Yeah.

I know, from my own experience,

just how important visiting days are for inmates.

So, it's no surprise that Armand's keen to look his best.

Armand's wife, Ancuța, has brought two of their five children to visit.

Come. Come to Daddy. Come to me.

His daughter, Giovana, and youngest son, lanis.

Ianis was conceived during a conjugal visit,

and Armand has never spent time with his son outside the prison walls.

For Ancuța, days like today bring mixed emotions.

What does coming to visit Armand mean to you?

We get very happy, and then we go home and get sad.

When I was talking to Armand about how he was feeling before the visit,

he described butterflies in his tummy.

I think I feel the same.

I get the impression that you can't quite believe

that he has these butterflies feelings,

that you're probably learning more about his emotions now

than you have for a long time. Am I right?

Yes, I'm very surprised.

Armand has been away for three years.

So, he's not been a part of your outside family life.

How do you cope without him being there?

It's difficult. It's very difficult.

With the children, the house, everything.

What can I say? It's very hard.

Very hard at home without him. To not see him, not have him at home.

Do you blame Armand for that? For getting himself in trouble?

That's how it was meant to be.

If you don't mind me saying, there is a sadness.

I can see a sadness in you.

How do you...

She's crying.

That's okay. I feel like I need to cry, too.

It's sad to sit here and see this. It's sad.

- Are you okay, Armand? - Yeah.

I can see it's hard for Armand to be separated from his family.

But I'm curious to know if it'll be enough to stop him reoffending.

Armand has not shown any remorse for the crime he's committed.

I suppose he's typical of the type of prisoner I'm interested in,

whether they will ever come back again. Is this the final time?

Is ten years enough to make him realize what he's giving up?

So, that's what I want to find out from him.

After the visit, Armand attends an arts and crafts class,

where he's making a wooden model of his house.

- Thanks for letting me come on the visit. - Pleasure.

It was quite... For me, it was quite distressing.

And your wife was very distressed, you know,

even though she has been to visit you over the last three years.

I was really taken aback by how emotional she felt seeing you,

- and talking to me. - Yes.

Every time, when she comes to visit me, it's like this.

And I suppose the biggest problem, and she made this clear,

was bringing up five kids on her own, at home, is not easy.

It's not easy for her, yeah, but it's okay.

It's not okay. You know, it must be really difficult.

I don't know your situation,

but I just can't imagine what that must be like for her.

Your offense, what you're in prison for,

the violence your family suffered and why you needed to take revenge...

Do you feel any remorse and regret?

For doing what you did? Honestly?

About this, about my situation, because I am here,

yes, a little bit, you know?

But for most of the situation, no.

You don't feel regret for what you did to him,

but you feel sorry for yourself 'cause you're in prison.

- Your circumstances are this. - Yeah.

- But in terms of... the victim... - Yeah.

- You couldn't care less. - Of course.

- That's honest. - Yeah.

That's honest. And most people, I suppose, would pretend that they do care,

because it might reduce their sentence or make people believe.

Why should... I don't like to lie and things like that.

I'm straight, you know. I get my sentence.

Do you think this will be the last time for you?

I don't really know.

In the future, I may have some problem with somebody...

If I must defend myself, I'm gonna do it again.

It seems like Armand's loyalty to the macho code of Gypsy culture

means there's a strong chance he'll reoffend.

He hasn't learned his lesson.

He sees himself as a man's man.

He will, at any point, at any time, defend himself, defend his family.

And if it means taking a gun and pulling the trigger at another person,

he's prepared to do that.

I think he's pretty typical of those that go out

and end up coming straight back.

If Armand does continue his life of crime, he won't be alone.

Once released, over 70% of all prisoners in Romania reoffend.

To find out why, I've come to meet prison governor Marin Calota.

How many prisoners that are released end up coming back to prison?

I can't give you a percentage,

but the rate of recidivism is relatively high.

Why is that?

Prisoners end up in jail

because they don't know the rules of society.

And they lack the education to understand those social rules.

Romanian society offers access to education for all.

But if we're talking only about the persons of Roma ethnicity,

they have a certain culture. They don't participate.

Is it fair to say

that a disproportionate number of the prisoners here

come from the Gypsy community?

I don't have a record of Roma Gypsy prisoners,

as it is not a criterion that we use.

It's interesting, isn't it?

Because it then follows that maybe that is something you should have,

because, without it, how can you tailor rehabilitation programs for prisoners?

Yes, but at the same time,

it might create discrimination between the Romanian and Gypsy Roma prisoners,

which currently does not exist.

The governor believes that gathering statistics

on the number of Gypsy inmates would fuel prejudice.

Yet this apparently even-handed position is also a form of willful blindness.

As long as the authorities don't acknowledge the problem,

they don't have to do anything about it.

All the same, there's one way

the prison is trying to help its Gypsy inmates.

And on my last day in Craiova, I'm on my way to see how it works.

This school teacher usually teaches ten-year-olds.

But today, her pupils aren't children.

They're some of Romania's most violent criminals.

Exercises of addition and subtraction.

And it turns out that one of her star students is Gulie.

That handwriting is better than mine.

That's very neat handwriting.

I do what I can.

In Romania, only 7% of Gypsies complete secondary education.

School is viewed as gadje, a non-Gypsy institution

that threatens the traditional Roma way of life.

What was your level of reading on the outside?

I can read, but I'm a bit slow.

You need to learn when you're young. It's more difficult when you're grown up.

For Gulie, it's the first time he's ever learned even basic math.

Do you understand the answer?

Hard. It's a bit too hard.

It looks simple enough for somebody who understands it,

but I can imagine how challenging it must be

if you've never done this simple addition.

First pupil, Raphael.

Please come to the blackboard.

- You want me to come up? - Yes.

- Come to the table, yes? - Yes.

This is where I'm under a lot of pressure. Okay. What if I get it wrong?

Okay. Thank you.

For me, trying to solve a math problem in Romanian

is a serious challenge.

Minus 124 cars...

Maybe I can get Gulie to come and help me.

- Gulie, please. - Gulie?

- Raphael? - Yeah.

With a little help from Gulie, we finally get to some kind of answer.

Seeing Gulie's enthusiasm for learning

reveals an unexpected side to this killer's personality.

There are days when I am upset and don't want to think about anything.

But here, I write best.

I'm focused on learning.

Yes, it changed. The mentality changed. My mind changed.

I think differently now.

Only a handful of Gypsy inmates are enrolled

in the prison's education scheme.

But for those who are, it's a chance to break free

from some of the traditional Gypsy attitudes

that helped to put them in prison in the first place.

It's the first sign I've seen that prisoners here

have at least some hope of rehabilitation.

And Gulie, who is a murderer, you know... Um, you can't help but think,

had they been given the chance of education

before they ended up in prison in an education class,

would it have made a difference to their lives

and the lives of victims and society as a whole?

During my time in Craiova,

I've glimpsed the dark underbelly of Romanian society.

It's a place where fresh-faced teens kill for money,

where Roma blood feuds lead to brutal vendettas,

and where racial prejudice drives lethal violence.

The prison is making an effort

to prepare prisoners for life on the outside.

Yet it seems that many from the most excluded communities

are unwilling to reform.

Addressing this challenge will take far wider social change

than this prison can ever achieve on its own.

My time inside one of Romania's toughest prisons

has finally come to an end.

But until this country's centuries' old social divisions are healed,

this place has gotta live with a chilling statistic.

Trapped in a cycle of crime,

a disproportionate number of Gypsy people released from these gates

will, in just a short time, end up straight back in prison.