Heaven: A Prison Diary Part 19

DAY 215 - MONDAY 18 FEBRUARY 2002.

10.00 am Mr Le Sage does not turn up for our meeting.

The governor of HMP Stocken has decided that they should not have to bear the cost of my accompanying Mr Le Sage on any school visit, as it would no longer be a voluntary activity that Mr Le Sage would normally pursue in his off-duty time.

As so often is the case in prisons, someone will look for a reason for not doing something rather than trying to make a good idea work. I cannot pretend that I've become so used to this negative att.i.tude that I am not disappointed. Mr Berlyn is also unable to mask his anger, and seems determined not to be thwarted by this setback. He has decided that NSC will send its own officer (Mr Hocking) as my escort, so that I might still attend Mark Le Sage's lectures. As I won't know if this suggestion will be vetoed until Mr Berlyn has spoken to the Stocken's governor, I will continue in my role as hospital orderly.

11.30 am Alan Purser, the prison drugs counsellor, comes across to the hospital to give me a copy of The Management of Drug Misuse in Prisons by Dr Celia Grummitt. Dr Grummitt will become my new bedtime companion.

4.00 pm Mr Vessey has charged Chris (lifer, murder) and David (lifer, murder) with being on the farm in possession of four potatoes and a cabbage. In normal circ.u.mstances this would have caused little interest, even in our selfcontained world. However, this will be the new governor's first adjudication, which we all await with bated breath.

DAY 216 - TUESDAY 19 FEBRUARY 2002.

10.00 am Mr Beaumont dismissed the charges against Chris and David as a farm worker came forward to say he'd given them permission to take the potatoes and the cabbage.

2.07 pm As part of my preparation for talking to children about the dangers and consequences of drugs, I have a visit from a police officer attached to the Lincolns.h.i.+re drug squad. Her name is Karen Brooks. She's an attractive, thirty-five-year-old blonde, and single mother of two. I mention this only to show that she is normal. Karen has currently served two and a half years of a four-year a.s.signment attached to the drug squad, having been a member of the force for the past fourteen years: hardly the TV image of your everyday drug officer.

She gives me a tutorial lasting just over an hour, and perhaps her most frightening reply to my endless questions and she is brutally honest is that she has asked to be transferred to other duties as she can no longer take the day-to-day strain of working with drug addicts.

Karen admits that although she enjoys her job, she wishes she'd never volunteered for the drugs unit in the first place, because the mental scars will remain with her for the rest of her life.

Her son, aged twelve, is a pupil at one of the most successful schools in Lincolns.h.i.+re, and has already been offered drugs by a fourteen-year-old. This is not a deprived school in the East End of London, but a firstcla.s.s school in Lincolns.h.i.+re.

Karen then tells a story that brings her almost to tears. She once arrested a twelveyear-old girl from a middle-cla.s.s, professional family for shoplifting a pair of socks from Woolworth's. The girl's parents were horrified and a.s.sured Karen it wouldn't happen again. Two years later the girl was arrested for stealing from a lingerie shop, and was put on probation. When they next met, the girl was seventeen, going on forty. Three years of experimentation with marijuana, cocaine, ecstasy and heroin, and a relations.h.i.+p with a twenty-year-old drug dealer, had taken their toll. The girl died last month at the age of eighteen. The dealer is still alive and still dealing.

As Karen gets ready to leave, I ask her how many officers are attached to the drug squad.

'Five,' she replies, 'which means that only about 10 per cent of our time is proactive, while the other 90 per cent is reactive.' She says that she'll visit me again in two weeks' time.

DAY 228 - SUNDAY 3 MARCH 2002.

6.30 am Yesterday I read Celia Grummitt's pamphlet on the misuse of drugs in prisons and the following facts bear repeating: a. Seven million people in Britain take drugs on a regular basis (this does not include alcohol or cigarettes). b. Sixteen million people in Britain smoke cigarettes. c. Drug-related problems are currently costing the NHS, the police service, the Prison Service, the social services, the probation service and courts the country eighteen billion pounds a year. d. If Britain did not have a drug problem, and by that I mean abuse of Cla.s.s A drugs such as heroin and crack cocaine, we could close 25 per cent of our jails, and there would be no waiting lists on the NHS. e. In 1975, fewer than 10,000 people were taking heroin.

Today it's 220,000, and for those of you who have never had to worry about your children, just think about your grandchildren.

DAY 231 - WEDNESDAY 6 MARCH 2002.

10.00 am Mark Le Sage, the young prison officer from HMP Stocken, visits me at the hospital. He's been in the Prison Service for the past twelve years, and for the last eight, has spent many hours as a volunteer addressing schools in the Norfolk area.

Mr Berlyn joins us, as it was his idea that I should attend a couple of Mark's talks before I venture out on my own. As I have not yet pa.s.sed my FLED, I'll have to be accompanied by Mr Hocking, who has also agreed to carry out this task in his own time, as NSC do not have the funds to cover the extra expense (14 an hour). Mr Berlyn says that he'll write to the governor of HMP Stocken today, as Mr Le Sage comes under his jurisdiction.

11.00 am Blossom (traveller, see page 193) is at the High Court today for his appeal. He's currently serving a five-and-a-half-year sentence for stealing cars and caravans. He's grown his beard even longer, as he's hoping that the judge will think he's a lot older than he is, and therefore shorten his sentence. He intends to shave the beard off as soon as he returns this evening.

6.00 pm Blossom returns from his appeal and announces that a year has been knocked off his sentence. It had nothing to do with the length of his beard, because he was only in the dock for a couple of minutes and the judge hardly gave him a second look. He had clearly read all the relevant papers long before Blossom showed up.

7.00 pm Blossom has already shaved off the beard.

The other interesting piece of information to come out of Blossom's visit to the High Court was that three cannabis dealers had their sentences halved from seven to three and a half years. A sign of things to come?

DAY 234 - SAt.u.r.dAY 9 MARCH 2002.

8.00 am Blossom comes in to see sister. He's in a dreadful state. His wife has written to let him know that his oldest son (aged twenty-nine) is on heroin. He asks me to fill out a form so that he can apply for compa.s.sionate leave.

He tells me that he's already got hold of a pair of handcuffs and he plans to chain the boy to a water pipe until he comes off the drug. He's quite serious.

Linda tells him firmly that his plan is neither legal or practical, nor of much value to his son.

6.00 pm Blossom has been granted two days compa.s.sionate leave. He is such a strange mixture of high moral values and low life. He's quite happy to steal caravans and cars, which has been the reason for several of his family ending up in prison, but is devastated when he discovers his son is on heroin. This is a man who has been married for thirty-six years, has eleven children and countless grandchildren, and until now, none of his offspring has ever been involved in drugs.

DAY 235 - SUNDAY 10 MARCH 2002.

2.00 pm My visitors today are Ed Streator, the former US minister to the Court of St James's and later American amba.s.sador to NATO, and Quentin Davies MP, who is currently Shadow Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.

The ninety minutes fly by, as both men have so much to tell me about what's happening where you all are.

I had forgotten that Quentin was PPS to Kenneth Baker when he was Home Secretary. During that period, he developed strong views on the reform of our penal system after becoming aware of the drug problem both inside and outside of prison. He talks with refres.h.i.+ng frankness and honesty about both subjects.

Ed adds a view from the other side of the Atlantic, and when we debate smoking cannabis he reminds me that California has recently pa.s.sed a law to prevent anyone under the age of twenty-one purchasing tobacco, let alone cannabis. In fact, he adds, in California it's virtually illegal to smoke anywhere except in your own home. Quentin suggests that if tobacco was discovered today, cigarettes would be illegal possession two years, tobacconists five years.

4.00 pm Stephen is the latest member to join Club Hospital (Sundays, 4 pm to 6 pm). He's currently serving a two-year sentence for theft, perverting the course of justice and false accounting. But there are several twists.

He is a former captain in the Adjutant General's Corps, and after being court-martialled, was sent to Colchester Prison (an army establishment) for the first month. But because his sentence was more than twentyeight days, he was automatically transferred into the prison system to complete his term.

And now for the second twist. A European Court ruling has recently determined that the armed forces disciplinary system is invalid, and all prisoners serving a sentence resulting from a court martial must be released.

Not only might Stephen be set free, but he will also be ent.i.tled to 60,000 in compensation, as well as being reinstated as a captain. Our masters in The Hague have decided that you should not be arrested, charged, tried and convicted by your peers.

Stephen tells me that there are 600 such prisoners currently in British jails, and he hopes to learn the outcome of this ruling in the next few weeks.

The final twist just before he was arrested, Stephen received a letter from his commanding officer to tell him that he was being considered for promotion to major.

DAY 236 - MONDAY 11 MARCH 2002.

9.00 am A man comes into surgery whom I despise.

Drink drivers are the staple diet of NSC. Of the 220 prisoners currently resident, around 20 per cent have been sentenced with driving offences. Sadly, Tony is not untypical.

Tony is in his early fifties, the father of five children by four women. He currently lives with another woman on a caravan park in Sc.u.n.thorpe. He pleaded guilty to his latest charge, of driving whilst being disqualified and uninsured (surely the time has come for all motorists to display as they do in France an insurance disc, as well as a road fund licence). For this, his latest offence, Tony was sentenced to twelve months, which in real terms means that if he is granted a tagging facility, he will be released after four.

Now here is the rub: during the past twenty years, he has been charged with twelve similar offences, and sent to jail on seven separate occasions. He's been banned from driving for four years, and happily tells anyone who will listen that as soon as they release him he'll be back behind the wheel.

It gets worse. He's currently employed by a local garage as a second-hand car dealer, and therefore has access to a variety of vehicles, and admits he likes to get 'tanked-up' at the pub across the road once he's closed a sale.

He displays no remorse, and has no fear of returning to prison. He considers NSC to provide a slightly higher standard of living than the one he currently enjoys on a Sc.u.n.thorpe caravan park.

Perhaps the time has come to change the offence for those who are regularly convicted of drink driving to one of 'potential manslaughter', carrying with it a custodial sentence of four years in a closed prison, and treat such people like any other violent criminals.

12 noon Alison tells me that the BBC has been in touch about a programme on best-selling authors called Reading the Decades. While accepting the fact that I can't appear on camera, they ask if I could do a telephone interview. They already have contributions from King, Grisham, Le Carre, Forsyth, Cooper and Rowling. I ask Governor Leighton for a view, and he says that he'll seek advice from the Home Office. 27 4.00 pm Mr Beaumont sent a circular to all the officers at NSC a few days before he arrived which I obtained recently. It gives you a flavour of the man. (See opposite.) I can't believe his secretary ever checked the piece for grammatical mistakes. Even an eleven-yearold would have spotted the error in the last line. I can't wait to meet him.

DAY 238 - WEDNESDAY 13 MARCH 2002.

7.22 am Gail rushes in, slightly flushed. She's been door-stepped by a woman from the News of the World who has discovered (from an inmate) that she's leaving NSC to take up another post. The journalist is looking for stories and asked, 'Are you leaving because of Archer?'

Gail replied that I am working as a hospital orderly, and that I take the job very seriously, am popular with both the officers and the other prisoners and am learning about drugs and their relevance in prison. Gail innocently asked how much they would pay for a story, to which the journalist replied a couple of thousand pounds more if it was a big story that would show Archer in a bad light.

10.11 am I am called in for a voluntary drugs test. You can refuse, but should you do so your privileges town visits, canteen cash and weekend leave are likely to be rescinded. I discover that two prisoners have come up positive, one for amphetamines, the other for cannabis.

By the end of the morning, that number had risen to five; all will appear in front of the governor for adjudication tomorrow.

12 noon An officer comes into the hospital and tells me that he once worked on the s.e.x offenders' unit at Whitemoor Prison and he could tell me enough stories to fill another volume.

'Give me an example,' I ask, topping up his coffee.

He pauses for a moment. 'We once had a young prisoner on B block who used to keep a budgerigar in his cell, and the little bird became the most important thing in his life.

Another prisoner living on the same wing, sensing the lad's vulnerability, threatened to kill the budgie unless he gave him a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b.

The prisoner reluctantly agreed. Within days, the first prisoner had become a prost.i.tute, and the second his pimp. The pimp would charge two phonecards for the prisoner to give a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b and three to be b.u.g.g.e.red. The pimp ended up making a hundred pounds a week, and the budgie survived. That was until an inmate gra.s.sed on him in the hope that the pimp would be transferred to another prison and he could take over his lucrative position. Both prisoners were moved to separate establishments the following day.

That morning the budgie was strangled.'

DAY 247 - FRIDAY 22 MARCH 2002.

Governor Berlyn comes to the hospital this morning and tells me that despite his efforts, I will not be allowed to accompany Mark Le Sage whenever he addesses school on the problem of drugs. The governor of HMP Stocken has told Mr Le Sage that he will not permit such excursions even if an NSC security officer accompanies me.

The nation is currently in the grip of a ma.s.sive drug epidemic, with children of twelve being offered heroin in our playgrounds. As part of my rehabilitation, I have volunteered to visit schools in the Lincolns.h.i.+re area and talk to them about the problem. To date I have had a.s.sistance from the local police drug squad, the Lincolns.h.i.+re education authority and the medical team at NSC, lead by Dr Walling. So I can only wonder why the governor of Stocken would want to stop such a worthwhile project.

Perhaps the Home Office knows the answer?

DAY 249 - SUNDAY 24 MARCH 2002.

4.00 pm It's been a week for visitors: last Sunday, Henry Togna and David Watson, Monday, Gilly Gray QC, Wednesday, Lords Hayhoe and Denham Bertie, my old Chief Whip.

So now I'm up to date on the Lords reform bill, foxhunting and the state of Margaret Thatcher's health. Not to mention the euro, and when the planned referendum might or might not be.

I put an idea to Bertie on the Lords reform bill, when to my horror he withdrew from an inside pocket, a small memo recorder. I glance over to the desk to see the duty officers chatting to each other. I was relieved when Bertie put the recorder back in his pocket. We don't need another member of the House of Lords as a resident of North Sea Camp.

DAY 250 - MONDAY 25 MARCH 2002.

10.00 am The papers are full of stories about the model Naomi Campbell, who has been awarded 3,500 against the Daily Mirror and its then editor, Piers Morgan, for breaching her privacy. However, the judge also states that she had deliberately lied when in the witness box.

Norman Tebbitt has asked through the press if she will be tried for perjury, or do these laws only apply to Conservative politicians?

4.00 pm Mr Belford comes to the hospital clutching the results of my MDT. (See opposite.) 6.00 pm Peter (arson, set fire to a police station) has so far served thirty-one years; you may recall that I earlier reported his first town visit.

This morning, two officers arrived outside his room and took him down to the segregation cells, which can only mean one thing: he's going to be s.h.i.+pped out to a closed prison today.

I suspect that one trip to Boston will be the last time he ever sees the outside world.

When I first came to NSC some months ago, Peter swept the main road that runs from the gate through to the office block; some 300 yards away. With a six-foot-fourinch frame, Peter had a presence you could not easily avoid, but zero social skills, and thirty-one years in prison (twenty-eight of them behind bars) ensured that it was never going to be easy for him to settle.

Every morning he would break away from his sweeping and open car doors for members of the female staff. He would then engage them in long conversations. Harmless enough, you may say, but several of the younger girls felt hara.s.sed and didn't complain for fear it might harm Peter's parole prospects. Unfortunately, these episodes continued, despite several warnings from officers. Governor Berlyn, who is in charge of the lifers, was left with little choice but to take action to allay the staff's fears.

He took Peter off his job as a road sweeper and asked him to be a reception orderly.

Peter made the tea and helped officers with minor tasks. It was beyond him. He lasted a fortnight. They next moved Peter to the officers' mess, to a.s.sist with cleaning and occasional serving. He lasted ten days before being transferred to the farm as a shepherd, where he survived less than a week before being sent to the kitchen. This was no more successful, and he has ended up in segregation prior to being moved back to the B-cat.

Peter is in his sixties, and has no hope of returning to a D-cat in under five years, if ever. This case highlights a bigger issue.

Don't we have some duty to a human being other than to lock him up for the rest of his life? Peter failed to come to terms with the system, so the system has failed him.

When I am eventually released, I am going to be asked so many questions to which I do not know the answer.

DAY 257 - MONDAY 1 APRIL 2002.

10.30 am I listen to an announcement over the tannoy.

'Anyone wanting to a.s.sist with the special needs group trip to Skegness, please report to the bus at the front gate.' The word 'please' should have given it away. Prison officers rarely, if ever, say please. However, two inmates still report to the gate in the hope of boarding the non-existent bus to Skegness.

The April Fool prank played on me took a different form. Mr Hewitt, the head of the works department, purchased a jigsaw puzzle of the House of Lords at a car-boot sale, and told me he expected me to finish it by the end of the week as part of my anger management programme.

It took me two hours just to finish the border. I intend to draft in all the members of Club Hospital to a.s.sist me with this 1,000-piece monster.

DAY 262 - SAt.u.r.dAY 6 APRIL 2002.

Dr Susan Edwards, Reader of Law at Buckingham University, has completed her independent study showing the harshness of my four-year sentence. 28 Jeffrey Archer, former deputy chairman of the Conservative party and best-selling author, was convicted of perjury and perverting the course of justice arising from a libel action over whether he spent a particular night with a Monica Coghlan, for which, following a 'not guilty' plea, he received a prison sentence of four years. As Jeffrey Archer's prison sentence is the longest pa.s.sed in any case of civil perjury and the sentence length is comparable to prison sentences pa.s.sed in the gravest cases of criminal perjury including murder and police corruption it requires some rather more detailed consideration.

Gilbert Gray QC has already warned Mary that he'll be able to predict the outcome of my appeal as soon as he knows the make-up of the three-judge panel. What a dreadful condemnation of British justice that my future will not be decided on whether I'm innocent or guilty, but on who judges me.

DAY 205 - TUESDAY 9 APRIL 2002.

NSC, like most prisons in Britain, is badly understaffed. We have over 200 inmates, and only 27 full-time officers, meaning that there are never more than 12 officers on duty at any one time. The following advertis.e.m.e.nt appears in several local papers every week, and elicits few replies. (See overleaf.) I'm told it's no different for any of the other 137 prisons in Britain. It's hardly an appealing career, other than for the truly dedicated believers in justice or someone not quite tall enough to get into the police force.

DAY 268 - FRIDAY 12 APRIL 2002.

9.07 am Dr Walling arrives a few minutes late. When Stephen Sherbourne (Margaret Thatcher's former political secretary) visited me, I told him that if you reported sick between 7.30 and 8 am any morning, Monday to Friday, you were guaranteed to see a doctor at nine o'clock the same day.

Stephen asked if I could think of a crime for which he would be sentenced to two weeks, so he could get all his medical problems sorted out.

11.11 am MURDERER.

WEDS.

PRISON.

PSYCHIATRIST is the sort of headline one might expect to read in the Sun.

Today Andy, a lifer who has served twelve years, has been granted a week's leave. He has been a model prisoner and expects to be released some time next year. While he was in his previous prison, Ashwell, part of his rehabilitation course included regular meetings with the prison psychiatrist, and as the months pa.s.sed, they struck up a relations.h.i.+p. I think it right to point out at this stage that Andy is thirty-five, six foot one, with the dark swarthy looks of an Italian film star.