Reboot Australia x SVC Case Study

There are moments in life where it feels like someone’s hit the pause button. You’re stuck. Heavy. A big grey cloud hanging over your head. You can’t breathe properly. You don’t know how the rest of the week’s going to play out — and it’s terrifying.

In those moments, support can be everything. It can be the thing that keeps you going when giving up feels like the only option.

That’s why support is so crucial during reintegration.

When someone comes out of prison, they’re not just walking through the gate and back into a normal life. There’s a mountain of things to sort out—groceries, clothes, a phone. Maybe it’s reconnecting with family, or getting help with addiction. All of that, while also trying to find a job, make it to parole check-ins, and navigate a world that suddenly expects you to be “on top of things” again.

It’s no wonder it can feel overwhelming. But with the right support—things can change.

Take Abz. He had a tough road after release, but he was focused on one thing: getting a steady job. Not just for money, but to feel like he was in control again. To stand on his own feet. He connected with Teegan, his Reboot Case Manager, and together they mapped out a plan. When an opportunity came up at SVC, Abz was ready—and he grabbed it. Now he’s a solid part of the crew there. Reliable. Motivated. Respected.

Then there’s Adam. The bloke’s grit is unbelievable. After release, he hit the ground running—applying for jobs, trying everything he could. For six months straight, he kept at it. No licence? No worries. He’d wake up at 4:30am, catch public transport, and show up for a 6:30am shift. Rain, hail or shine. We even organised him an electric scooter to help shave off time. That’s resilience. That’s hunger. That’s commitment.

Both of these legends just need a chance. A bit of backing. Someone in their corner.

Now they’re showing what’s possible. They’re proving that people can come back from tough places and build something powerful. They’re rewriting the story—not just for themselves, but for others watching on.

We’re proud of you, Abz and Adam. And we’re grateful you’ve let us walk a bit of the road with you.

You’re both changing the game.

Reintegration, the barriers and the individual

The barriers to reintegration are real.

Most people don’t see them—let alone understand them. But for someone returning to society after prison, those barriers show up everywhere. They’re confusing, confronting, and can leave even the most well-intentioned people feeling completely lost.

That’s where throughcare steps in. Throughcare isn’t just about ticking boxes. It’s a steady compass. A guiding hand. It helps people find their way when everything feels uncertain.

But it all starts with the individual.

That spark—the desire to change—can come at any moment. Sometimes it’s in the quiet of a prison cell, alone with your thoughts. Sometimes it’s sparked by a conversation with a mentor or someone who's walked the same path. Other times, it’s more emotional—like sitting across from your parents in a visit room, suddenly seeing how much they’ve aged. Realising how much time you’ve lost.

Whatever the moment is, it sticks with you. It lights something inside.

Because reintegration isn’t easy. Things go wrong. Parole appointments can be overwhelming. The train might be delayed or traffic might be bad and you might make curfew or a drug screening. You might feel like you’re doing everything right and still not moving forward.

In those moments, you’ve got to remember why you’re doing it.

Maybe it’s for your kids. Maybe it’s for your partner. Maybe it’s for the version of yourself you want to become.

There’s a big difference between your family loving you—and them being proud of you.

That difference becomes your purpose. And once that purpose is clear, you can start breaking down the barriers—bit by bit.

No two journeys look the same. Everyone’s priorities are different. And that’s exactly why the current system often struggles to truly help.

But when the support is tailored, when it’s human, when it’s built on trust—that’s when real reintegration begins.

Adam

“I tried from my time of release for six months (to find work) and was getting rejected left, right and centre.”

Adam arrived in Australia in 2009, at the age of 21.

Back then, things felt like they were finally falling into place. He had a job, a car, a roof over his head. For the first time in a long time, he knew where his next meal was coming from. He felt safe—like he could go to sleep at night and be certain he'd wake up in the morning.

But settling in wasn’t easy.

Even with the basics in place, Adam struggled to feel like he belonged. He hadn’t grown up in Australia. Everything felt just a little off—like he was always on the outside looking in. That feeling of disconnection pulled him towards the wrong crowds, and before long, he was drinking and using heavily, almost every day.

Then, tragedy struck.

Adam’s mum—his only parent in the country—passed away from illness. Losing her broke something in him. He started to believe there wasn’t any point in trying. If life was this painful, maybe he should just let go and enjoy whatever came his way.

After his first arrest, the prison yard offered a kind of belonging he hadn’t felt before. He became drawn to the illusion of brotherhood—of being part of something. But that life came with consequences. Adam went in and out of prison five times.

It was on the fifth time that something shifted. He missed the birth of his child.

He looked around and thought, Enough.

It wasn’t just about him anymore. When he started staying at home again, his sisters and loved ones would sleep better at night. They knew their brother was trying—really trying—to turn things around. And for the first time in years, Adam started to believe that he could become someone they could be proud of.

That’s when his real journey began.

Not just to stay out of prison—but to become the version of himself he always wanted to be.

Abz

"The opportunity and what it means to me. At this point in time, it means everything."

Abz came to Australia when he was just four years old. His family had fled Colombia during one of its darkest times—when Pablo Escobar’s influence cast a long shadow over everyday life. They came here hoping for safety and a better future.

But starting over wasn’t easy. Everything was different—how people greeted each other, the food, even the way school worked. It was a lot for a young kid to take in.

Growing up, Abz never had a clear picture of what he wanted to do. He just knew he wanted to be happy. For a while, he chased that dream through university, enrolling in Mechanical Engineering at RMIT. But it didn’t quite fit.

One thing that always stayed the same though—was how protective he was of the people he cared about. He hated bullies. He never wanted to become one, and he never backed down from standing up for himself or others.

But one day, things went too far. What started as standing up for himself ended in a physical altercation. He made the wrong call. He knows that now. It landed him in prison—and later, back again.

That second time hurt even more. Not just because of the consequences—but because of the pain it caused his mum. The guilt of watching her suffer, knowing she’d raised him with love and sacrifice, stuck with him.

But things are different now.

Abz has a job. He’s working hard. He’s showing up—for himself, and for his future. And when his mum sees him now—healthy, focused, moving forward—her joy says it all.

That’s what keeps him going.

Because for Abz, this journey isn’t just about redemption. It’s about giving his mum her son back. And that, more than anything, is what drives him to keep becoming a better man.

How did it happen? What comes next?

The partnership between Reboot and SVC began with something simple: a conversation.

Both teams shared a common goal—to create real opportunities for people, while helping fill critical gaps in Australia’s workforce. With aligned values and a shared belief in second chances, things moved quickly. Reboot began sharing information, and together we shaped job roles that would work for everyone involved.

From there, the process was clear: identify the right candidates, prepare them for the opportunity, and support them through formal interviews. That’s how Abs and Adam came to be part of the SVC team.

And they haven’t looked back.

Both have become valued, dependable team members. Their work ethic, attitude, and willingness to show up every day has not only helped them thrive—it’s positively shaped the culture around them. They are reliable. They know their stuff. And they bring real energy to the job.

Even now, we continue to check in with them—not because they need it, but because we care. Reboot’s mission isn’t just about placements. It’s about sustainable reintegration. And employment plays a central role in that.

Abs and Adam are living proof that when someone is given the right chance and the right support, they’ll run with it.

They didn’t ask for handouts. They just wanted an opportunity. And they’ve absolutely earned their place.

At the heart of all this is one simple truth: work matters. It provides structure, purpose, and pride. It lays the foundation for everything else in a person’s life to fall into place.

That’s why partnerships like this matter. That’s why we do what we do.