Heaven: A Prison Diary Part 18

Shouldn't the rule be universal to all prisons? At Belmarsh, a category A prison, stamps are permitted. I make no comment.

It's not Mr Garley's fault, and he can't do anything about it.

DAY 207 - SUNDAY 10 FEBRUARY 2002.

7.21 am Gail is angry. She's recently bought a smart new dark green Peugeot, which she parks outside the hospital. Yesterday, one of the prisoners put matchsticks in her locks, so that when she tried to open the door, she pushed the matchstick further in and jammed the lock.

4.00 pm Club Hospital meets for tea and biscuits. One of our new members, who has only been with us for a month, will be released tomorrow.

He was charged with road rage and sentenced to three months. He will have spent six weeks in prison. I've watched him carefully at our get-togethers and as he goes about his business around the prison. He is well educated, well mannered and looks quite incapable of swatting a fly.

He tells the group that he stopped his car to go to the aid of a woman who was being attacked, but for his troubles, got punched to the ground by what turned out to be her boyfriend. The two of them then drove off. He returned home, but was later arrested for road rage as the woman bore witness that he attacked her. Had he gone to the police station first and reported them for a.s.sault, the other man would now be in jail, not him. He has lost his job with the pharmaceutical company he's been with for twenty-one years, and is worried about getting another one now he has a criminal record. His wife has stuck by him, and she hopes that one of his old firm's rivals will want to take advantage of his expertise.24 This brings me onto the subject of wives.

Of the seven married Club members present today, two of their wives have had to sell their homes and move to smaller houses in another area; two have had to go out to work full time while trying to bring up children (three in one case, two in the other), and the other two have received divorce pet.i.tions while in jail. I'm the seventh.

I make no excuse for the crimes committed, but I feel it bears repeating that it's often the wives who suffer even more than the husbands for them there is no rehabilitation programme.

DAY 208 - MONDAY 11 FEBRUARY 2002.

9.00 am One of the prisoners waiting to be seen by Dr Walling this morning is a regular attendee.

Today he somehow managed to get a nail stuck in his head. It only grazed the surface of his skull, but produced a lot of blood.

Once Gail has cleaned and bandaged him up, he asks, 'Could I have rust on the brain?'

2.00 pm The prison is jam-packed; 211 at lock up last night. Two inmates have been released this morning, and three new prisoners arrived this afternoon from Leicester. They couldn't be more different. One is eighteen, and serving a six-week sentence for a road-traffic offence. He has only two more weeks to serve before taking up a place at Leicester University in September to read mathematics. The second is around twenty-four he is doing six months for punching someone in a pub. He requests counselling for his drink problem; drink is considered by the prison authorities to be just as much a drug as cannabis or heroin. The third is serving six years for GBH, a year of which he spent in Belmarsh.

6.00 pm I attend the weekly CARAT meeting, but one of the prisoners objects to my presence, so I leave immediately.

The drugs counsellor tells me later that because I've never been an addict myself and am writing a diary, he doesn't feel free to express himself while I'm there fair enough.

I settle down to read the latest booklet on the subject of addiction, Is Your Child on Drugs? No, thank G.o.d. However, it's a fascinating read. It is not uncommon for a child to start smoking at seven eleven is the norm so it's no surprise that some children are hooked on heroin by the age of fourteen.

DAY 209 - TUESDAY 12 FEBRUARY 2002.

9.00 am We have a full surgery this morning: three for release, two for a week's temporary release and eleven with imagined or real illnesses. Dr Allwood, a thorough and conscientious man, always takes his time. In fact, after forty minutes, one of the inmates in the waiting room complains about how long he's taking. Gail leaps out of the surgery and tells the prisoner that her husband visited his GP last week and had to sit around for three hours, and that was after having to wait a week before he could make an appointment. The inmate snarls.

Chris, a lifer (murdered his wife), rolls up his sleeve and shows me a faded scar on the inside of his arm. 'I did that,' he says, thrusting it under the gaze of the complaining prisoner, who looks surprised. 'Yeah,' he continues, 'stabbed in the middle of the night by my pad-mate, wasn't I, and when I pressed the emergency b.u.t.ton no screws came to help me because I was on the top floor.'

Chris now has the full attention of the rest of the surgery. 'No doctor at Gartree to come to my aid, so I sewed it up myself.' I look at his faded scar in disbelief, but Gail nods to confirm she's seen many examples of amateur st.i.tching over the years.

'Just a needle and thread was all I needed,' he adds.

10.40 am Mr Berlyn marches into the hospital and says he needs an urgent word with me. We go into the ward. He has been in touch with Mr Le Sage at HMP Stocken about my accompanying him when he gives his talk to schools on the problems of young people becoming involved in drugs and ending up in prison. The good news is that Mr Le Sage is looking for a new prisoner to a.s.sist him, and has agreed to travel up to NSC next Monday to talk about the possibility of my working alongside him.

This is the best news I've had since being appointed hospital orderly.

Escaping the confines of NSC, visiting schools and feeling I'm doing something worthwhile must be the next step on this particular journey. I thank Mr Berlyn and once again have something to look forward to. Next Monday.

3.00 pm Only two new inductees today because the prison is full. When I check my board, I note one of them is called Blackburn. We already have a Blackburn, I tell the young lad sitting in front of me.

'Yeah, that's my dad,' he says. 'He was my co-defendant.' I smell a story. 'You'll never believe what we're in for, Jeff,' he adds. I remain silent. 'We were caught stealing Lion Bars, and got three and a half years.'

'That sounds a bit rough,' I venture foolishly.

'Yeah, well, I have to admit, Jeff, it was forty-six tons of 'em with a street value of nearly two hundred grand.'

'But how do you fence chocolate bars?'

He laughs. We already had a buyer.'

'At what price?'

'Forty grand.'

'So how did you get caught?'

'One of the night watchmen who was part of our team gra.s.sed us up, didn't he.'

'Why?'

'He was up for a minor charge of burglary and did a deal with the sc.u.m.'

'Did he get off?'

'Yeah, they dropped the charge, didn't they, but nicked him for somethin' else a couple of months later and then they banged him up in the Scrubs ... with my father.'

4.07 pm Mr Hocking drops in to say that he's pleased I might be going out to a.s.sist a prison officer with his drugs talk. He's already informed the governor that I am not considered a security risk. He's only been with me a couple of minutes when his radio intercom asks him to report back to the security office immediately.

'We've had another one,' are the only words I clearly hear. I look suitably inquisitive.

'We've got a serial informer,' he explains, 'he writes every day telling us who the drug dealers are and where we'll find the next drop. So far he's been on the b.u.t.ton every time.'

'Do you know who the informer is?' I ask.

'No idea, don't want to know,' he replies.

'All I can tell you is that the handwriting is the same every time.'

DAY 210 - WEDNESDAY 13 FEBRUARY 2002.

5.43 am I dreamed last night about a lovely man called John Bromley Brommers to his friends who died of cancer a few days ago.

I had the privilege of working with him you didn't work for John, even though he was the head of ITV's sport. He had an amazing gift of making even the tea lady feel part of the team. If you had a love of sport, good humour, fine wine and beautiful women, he was quite simply the best company a man could ask for. I predict that his memorial service will be as well attended as any prime minister's. I only hope I'm out in time to be there.

9.30 am A beautiful black Labrador called Bessie saunters into the hospital accompanied by two officers from the drug squad. I am told to wait in the lobby while Bessie goes about her work. Through the closed door, I can hear her padding around sniffing for drugs among my personal possessions. If Bessie can read, she'll find several books, pamphlets and papers on drugs, but until you can fail an MDT for Ribena, Bovril or Evian, not much else.

The other prisoners sitting in the lobby waiting to see the doctor can't mask their surprise. A few moments later, the door is opened and Bessie reappears, and as she pa.s.ses by, ignores me a good sign, because if Bessie starts to sniff you, you're in trouble.

If she licks you, you'll be up on a charge. I ought to be pleased, but when I return to the ward, Bessie's paw-prints are everywhere, and I scrubbed the floor only yesterday.

11.00 am Mr Hocking explains that the drug search had a purpose. They are about to make a big swoop, following another tip-off, and he wanted the other inmates to see that I was not exempt from being searched. By now everyone in the prison will know, and some might even wonder if I'm about to be shipped out. I suspect the real search will take place later today.

3.00 pm I have a legal visit from my solicitors Tony Morton Hooper and Lord Mishcon, now aged eighty-four it's kind of him to endure the seven-hour round trip. We spend the next two hours preparing for the upcoming appeal, not that a date has yet been fixed.

6.00 pm Doug tells me that we are to have a new governing governor called Mr Beaumont. As he was governor of Leicester Prison, there will be a lot of inmates who can brief us about him.

DAY 211 - THURSDAY 14 FEBRUARY 2002.

8.15 am I no longer have breakfast in the main hall because Linda supplies me with a box of cornflakes once a week and a half pint of milk every day. Today she added a new luxury a banana.

9.00 am One of the prisoners in surgery this morning needs a weekend leave form signed by the doctor, to show he is fit to be out of prison.

Yesterday his leave was revoked because he drew out a large sum of money from his canteen account, leaving a balance of only 3.72. You cannot take weekend leave unless you have at least 4 in your account. It is a.s.sumed that if you empty your account, then you're probably going to abscond. This seems unlikely in this case as the prisoner has only two weeks of his sentence left.

Mr Berlyn shows some common sense, allows the prisoner to put 28p back into the account and signs his weekend leave pa.s.s.

12 noon Lunch in the canteen. Potato bake and cabbage, followed by sponge cake covered, and I mean covered, in custard. I never eat the second course, but take it, because Carl can always eat two portions.

3.00 pm Dr Harris is on duty and his first responsibility is to sign the discharge papers for eight prisoners who will be released tomorrow. All of them have been granted tagging status, which allows them to leave two months early as long as they remain in their homes between the hours of 7 pm and 7 am. These hours can be flexible if it affects their job.

When I first arrived at NSC and worked as the orderly in the sentence management unit, the tagging board of Mr Berlyn and Mr Simpson used to agree to about 50 per cent of those eligible for this privilege. Now all eight are granted on the same day, 25 including a twenty-three-year-old who's already been to prison four times. Lee admits that he was shocked when the board granted him tagging status, as his offence was punching someone on the nose in a pub brawl and in any case he looks upon prison as a way of life. In fact, his last comment to Linda before leaving us was, 'See you towards the end of the year, if not before.' He turns to me and adds, 'Let's hope you're out by then, Jeff.'

4.15 pm I sweep out the ward and mop the floor. On alternate days I vacuum Linda's little office removing Bessie's paw prints. All very therapeutic.

5.00 pm I call Mary. She thanks me for the flowers that I asked Alison to send her yesterday.

She then brings me up to date on Angie Peppiatt and Mr Justice Potts.

5.30 pm I collect my post. Eleven Valentine cards, which I display in the ward for all to see, plus several letters, including one from John Major and another from Billy Connolly.

Many years ago when John was Chancellor of the Exchequer, I asked him to open the extension to our new folly at the Old Vicarage at our annual summer party. John described the building as 'Mary's second folly'. Billy spoke next and immediately closed it.

DAY 212 - FRIDAY 15 FEBRUARY 2002.

5.23 am I've only just worked out why it's the same five inmates who appear at the front of the queue every morning for medication; Linda as hospital sister will only allow them one day's supply of drugs, whereas in a surgery 'on the out', she would prescribe enough for a week, and in some cases even a month.

Why, you may ask. a. If a prisoner were given a month's supply he might well take it all on one day. b. He could also trade his medication for other drugs.26 c. They could be lost or stolen.

Result, we have a long queue every morning for one day's supply of medication, so they will all be back tomorrow.

7.30 am Mr Beaumont the new governor has. .h.i.t the ground running. He's demanded that his office be repainted and all the furniture be replaced, and it all has to be completed by the time he gets back from a visit to the Home Office tomorrow.

8.30 am Mr Vessey, a security officer, marches into the hospital. His appearance usually means that a prisoner is about to be nicked for some offence. I can't think of any offence I've committed recently, other than being in possession of a bottle of Ribena (smuggled in by Doug). Mr Vessey, who never makes any attempt to be friendly, asks me to accompany him, and takes considerable pleasure in marching me out of the hospital and across the camp. Several prisoners stare in disbelief. He eventually tells me my name has come up on the computer for a random MDT test.

He escorts me into a Portacabin, where I am locked in a room with five other prisoners. Three of them look relaxed and are happily chatting, while the other two are silent, twitchy and look distinctly nervous. A few minutes later I hear a key turning in the lock and another officer joins us.

Four of us came up on the computer for a random test, while two others are here on 'reasonable suspicion'. The serial gra.s.ser has undoubtedly offered up their names. The officer then reads his authority to carry out such a test (see overleaf) before asking who would like to be tested first.

I stand up and follow him into an adjoining room. The procedure is then explained to me (see page 349), and I am requested to sign a form saying I agree to the test. I am then asked to strip and put on a dressing gown. Mr Vessey hands me a plastic beaker, and asks me to go to the lavatory next door and fill it with at least 60 ml of urine. Having managed this, I hand the beaker back to Mr Vessey, who unseals two plastic tubes in my presence and then pours half the urine into each tube. After I have initialled both, he seals them and places them in a plastic bag, which he also seals. The bag is then deposited in the fridge. He points out that my name is not on the bag, only my number, FF8282.

MANDATORY DRUG TEST AUTHORISATION.

FORM.

PRISON SERVICE CHAIN OF CUSTODY.

PROCEDURE.

Having completed this procedure, I sign another form to confirm that I am satisfied with the way the test has been conducted. I am then released to return to the hospital.

Despite this being a humiliating experience, it's one I thoroughly approve of. Although I've never got on with Mr Vessey, he is a professional who cannot hide his contempt for anyone involved in drugs, especially the dealers.

9.00 am One of the inmates up in front of the governor this morning has been charged with illegal possession of marijuana but with a difference. When his room was raided they found him trying to swallow a small plastic packet. They wrestled him to the ground and extracted the evidence from his mouth. Had he swallowed the contents, they would not have been able to charge him. The packet was one of those we supply from the hospital containing six paracetamol pills. This one had an ounce of marijuana inside, and the inmate ended up with seven days added to his sentence.

3.00 pm Mr Hocking appears in the hospital carrying a large attache case and disappears into Linda's office. A few minutes later they both come out and join me on the ward. The large plastic case is placed on a hospital bed and opened to reveal a drugs kit: twenty-one square plastic containers embedded in foam rubber show the many different drugs currently on the market. For the first time I see heroin, crack cocaine, ecstasy tablets, amphetamines and marijuana in every form.

Linda and Mr Hocking deliver an introductory talk that they give to any prison officer on how to recognize the different drugs and the way they can be taken. Mr Berlyn and his security team are obviously determined that I will be properly briefed before I am allowed to accompany Mr Le Sage when we visit schools.

It's fascinating at my age (sixty-one) to be studying a new subject as if I were a firstyear undergraduate.

5.00 pm The new governor, Mr Beaumont, is making a tour of the camp and spends seven minutes in the hospital a flying visit. He has heard the hospital is efficiently run by Linda and Gail, and as long as that continues to be the case, gives them the impression that he will not be interfering.

DAY 213 - SAt.u.r.dAY 16 FEBRUARY 2002.

8.45 am Yesterday I was frog-marched off to do an MDT. Today there's an announcement over the tannoy that there are voluntary drugs tests for those with surnames beginning A-E.

These are known as dip tests, because once again you pee into a plastic beaker, but this time the officer in charge dips a little stick into the beaker and moments later is able to give you a result.

I walk across to the Portakabin, supply another 60ml of urine and I'm immediately cleared, which makes yesterday's test somewhat redundant.

I later learn that one of the Bs came up positive, and he had to call his wife to let her know that he won't be allowed out on a town visit this weekend. As it was a voluntary test, I can't work out why he agreed to be tested.

10.00 am Surgery is always slow at the weekend because the majority of inmates who appear with various complaints during the week in the hope that they will get off work remain in bed, while all those who are fit never visit us in the first place.

11.00 am Carl and an inmate called Jason who is only with us for two weeks (motoring offence) turn up at the hospital. Together we remove all the beds from the ward and push them into the corridor, before giving the hospital a spring clean.

Jason tells me that 'on the out' he's a painter and decorator, and could repaint the ward during his two-week incarceration. I shall speak to the governor on Monday, because at 8.20 a week this would be quite a bargain. You may well ask why Carl and Jason helped me with the spring clean. Boredom. The spring clean killed a morning for all of us.

2.00 pm I watch the prison football team lose 7 2, and witness two more pieces of unbelievable stupidity by fellow inmates. Our goalkeeper, who was sent off by the same referee the last time we played, shouts obscenities at him again, and is surprised when he's booked. I fear he will be back in prison within months of being released. But worse, our centre forward is a prisoner who's just come out of the Pilgrim Hospital after a groin injury, and has been told to rest for six weeks. He will undoubtedly appear at surgery on Monday expecting sympathy. It's no wonder the NHS is in such crisis if patients behave so irresponsibly after being given expert advice.

DAY 214 - SUNDAY 17 FEBRUARY 2002.

6.01 am If I had been given the same sentence as Jonathan Aitken, I would have been released today. Jonathan was sentenced to eighteen months, and because he was a model prisoner, only had to serve seven (half minus two months on tag). Tomorrow I will not be returning home to my wife and family because Mr Justice Potts sentenced me to four years.

Instead I will be meeting Mark Le Sage, an officer from Stocken Prison who visits schools in Lincolnshire, warning children of the consequences of taking drugs.

I will remain at NSC until I know the result of my appeal, but for the first time in seven months (since my mother's funeral) I will be able to leave the prison and return to the outside world.