Beautiful People… in Prison

A post with this sort of title might seem strange, particularly over a weekend during which the Ministry of Justice (MOJ) has promised to introduce tougher penalties for prisoners who assault staff. Of course, as anyone who knows anything about prisons will be aware, this belated attempt to deal with the rising number of violent incidents inside our crisis-ridden jails is nothing more than a bit of window-dressing by embattled Justice Secretary Chris Grayling who is so completely out of his depth it is now a national source of embarrassment. 

Does he really give two hoots?

The latest move won’t convince anybody – screw or con – that Mr Grayling really gives a damn about what is going on in our nicks while he is in charge. However, it does seem that the rising tsunami of public criticism – from just about every direction, including the Daily Telegraph – is goading him to act tough at a time when tensions inside our prisons are reaching boiling point, mainly as a direct consequence of his mismanagement. 

To be honest, prisons are full of people who tend to make bad choices (and not only the cons, for that matter). They also accommodate a fair number of men who have serious anger management problems. When current chronic frontline staff shortages result in such people being locked behind their doors for up to 23 hours a day, the result of cancelled work, education, gym sessions and even healthcare appointments, then it is unsurprising that volatile blokes kick off. I’m actually amazed it doesn’t happen more often.

Being fair, working as a screw isn’t a job I’d choose personally. It sometimes mystifies me why some of the decent officers I’ve got to know well have made what is a very strange career decision to spend their own working lives behind bars – often serving more time in the slammer than your average murderer. Of course, they do get to go home at the end of their shifts, but it’s still a pretty grim environment, especially at the moment when everyone’s morale is at rock bottom.

Working behind bars

I wouldn’t fancy telling some very large bloke with a very short fuse that he isn’t getting out of his pad (cell) because of staff shortages, or that his medical appointment has been cancelled at the last minute… or even – and this is the killer – that family visits have been called off. That’s usually when you hear the baying for blood and the sound of breaking glass on wings.

Funnily enough, some years ago when I was a university student one of my fellow ‘inmates’ was none other than our own Mike Spurr, currently the head of the dysfunctional National Offender Management Service (NOMS) which is supposed to be running our prison service. As the current crisis gathers pace, I sometimes wonder whether he ever regrets his choice of career.

Back then, when he still had a serious acne problem and a very unfashionable haircut, Mike and I used to play darts together in our tiny college bar and, over a few pints of 80/- real ale at 50p a pop, I did my best to convince him that going into prison management as a graduate trainee wasn’t the brightest thing he could do with his life. Of course, he didn’t listen and look where he is now... sitting on top of the NOMS volcano.

Mike: regretting his career choice?

Since I gather that Mike does follow this blog from time to time, it would be interesting to know if he remembers our little chats in that smoky, pokey little bar in the basement just before we embarked on our respective career paths. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into one another at some conference on penal reform and laugh about how things have turned out, although I doubt it.

Having painted such a grim picture… of prisons, rather than college bars… it may come as a surprise to read that in my experience there are some very decent people serving time in our jails. As I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, I believe that some of these blokes are innocent and have been wrongly convicted, while plenty of others are guilty as charged but have genuine remorse about the impact upon others of the crimes they have committed and want to change for the better.

I chose this title for my blog post after having had time to do some reading during this period following my father’s death, but before his funeral. The famous American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross – best known for her analysis of the various stages of grief following a bereavement – once made some observations that I find both interesting and thought-provoking. 

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

She wrote: "The most beautiful people we have known are those who have know defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

Funnily enough, I was immediately reminded of some of the people I’ve met in prison who fall into that category of Kübler-Ross’ ‘beautiful people’. There are men who have lost everything that they could conceivably lose – family, home, careers, good name, reputation – and yet they still manage to find time to listen to the problems of others. Some volunteer to work as Listeners (Samaritan-trained peer support), others as Insiders (peer mentors), while some don’t take on formal roles, but are just there when you need them.

When you are a prisoner – no matter what the offence or sentence – sometimes you really need a kind word, a friendly smile or a good mate in whom you can confide without fearing that your particular problem or anxiety will be all over the wing before tea-time. In my experience, every prison wing has at least a few of these folk. Without them, prison truly would be a much darker and more dismal place.

Comforting others

The prison experience can affect people in different ways. Some are completely broken and destroyed by the impact of incarceration, but others seem to find themselves in a way that might mystify outsiders. They grow as human beings and turn their own experiences of loss and rejection into an inner strength that not only enables them to survive a spell in the slammer with their own humanity intact, but they can also find sufficient inner reserves to offer support to others who are less able to cope. 

I well recall an incident at a Cat-D (open) nick when a female member of staff was attacked from behind in the dark in a car park within the perimeter. She was quite badly injured, but it was a con who saw what had happened and chased off the attacker, before protecting her, while another raised the alarm and got medical help. Her status as a member of staff was irrelevant to those prisoners. They acted instinctively to help someone who was terrified and had been injured – with humanity.

I genuinely believe that this sense of concern for humanity is one of the reasons that daily life in our prisons during the current crisis is able to continue without a degeneration into widespread violence and an explosion of frustration. Of course, I can’t predict how long the present situation can endure before individual establishments reach breaking point and control is lost, but at a time when resources inside prisons are very scarce, it’s often the unseen support that prisoners offer each other that is preventing the rising rates of suicide and self-harm from rocketing much higher.

When you have a few decent, level-headed cons on a wing, the atmosphere can be more positive. Experienced screws know this and a fair few do appreciate the invisible support and counselling networks that develop among the prisoners, not least because these can go some way to reducing the number of violent incidents, including self-harm. Although levels of violence inside the nick are getting worse, fuelled by tensions caused shortages of staff, believe me the situation could easily be far more volatile if it weren’t for those influential cons who are doing their best to keep a lid on the boiling pressure cooker.

So when you next read in the media that there has been some terrible act of violence in one or other of our prisons – whether against staff or fellow inmates – it might be well to reflect on the fact that the overwhelming majority of cons weren’t involved. The Daily Mail and its ilk love to portray all prisoners as evil, worthless, violent monsters. They never mention those who are called on to use their humanity and skills to pick up the pieces in Chris Grayling’s increasingly dysfunctional prison nightmare, often showing much greater humanity and real concern for others than he ever could.   

Prisons and a Death in the Family

When you are in prison, one of the most difficult things to have to cope with is the death of a close family member or loved one. By its very nature, bereavement is a time when families usually come together for mutual support and comfort, as well as to share their memories of the person who has just died. It is an important opportunity to pay your respects and this, in turn, can help to ease the process of grieving. When you are inside a prison this often just isn’t possible and it can be incredibly painful, leaving a long-lasting legacy of deep hurt.

Death of a parent can be traumatic

Many prisoners find that they have been absent throughout a family member’s final illness or, if the death has occurred suddenly, there hasn’t been any chance to say goodbye. Perhaps because of the criminal conviction there has been a rift in the family, with many things being left unsaid, very often an apology for all the hurt and distress that has been caused. This can be a source of lasting guilt. Or maybe because of ill-health the person wasn’t able to visit the prisoner for months or even years prior to their death.

Having elderly parents, or family members who have serious life-threatening or limiting illnesses, the prospect of a death when you are in custody can be a constant reminder of why the loss of liberty that comes with imprisonment is – and should be – the punishment handed down by the court. Not being able to hold the hand of someone you have loved, and who has loved you, often unconditionally, as they pass away can leave a very significant sense of loss that can take a very long time to come to terms with.

When I was a prisoner, I was always conscious of the risk that one or both of my own elderly parents might die while I was still incarcerated. Although prison chaplains and some wing staff can provide words of comfort in these difficult circumstances, it’s at times like those that you do feel most isolated and alone in the nick, despite – or perhaps because of – having so many strangers around you.

Behind bars: very much alone

As an Insider (peer mentor) in prisons, I have spent a fair amount of time trying to support and console fellow cons who have experienced a bereavement. Usually, it tended to be a parent or grandparent who had died, but occasionally it was a partner or even a young child. For many men, being banged up in a shared cell (‘two’d up’), they find it difficult even to start the grieving process.

Big ‘hard’ men on prison wings don’t often cry, even if they are full of grief and pain. While they might be able to shed tears after dark in their own single cell, having another bloke sleeping a couple of feet away can severely limit the opportunities to have a good cry. It all seems like weakness.

I used to arrange for them to come round to my pad (cell) at a time when my pad-mate was doing something else and shed a few tears. As I’ve written before on this blog, I’m not ashamed to say I’ve sat on a bunk with my arm around quite a few lads who were in deep distress, including one who had just lost his own infant son to a congenital condition. Just allowing these men the space to cry, to mourn and to speak about their loss in confidence was important.

Part of the practical impact of being imprisoned is all about powerlessness and I’ve seen the terrible grief and frustration that cons can feel when they desperately need to speak to a seriously ill parent, partner or relative, or even one of their own sick children, when there is no chance of getting access to either a wing payphone or to a phone in a staff office or the chaplaincy.

The empty hospital bed

I’m very aware of all of this as I type because my own father died yesterday after a short illness. He had been in declining health for a year or so and, being in his mid-80s, he was unable to fight off the final bout of pneumonia.

My sister and I had been able to spend time beside his hospital bed for the last few days of his life, even when he had been unable to recognise us. It was important to us, both psychologically and emotionally, that we were able to see him in his final days and to assure him of our love. Our relationship hadn’t been without its ups and downs, but he was a good father and had always been there for us.

Although I am still very early in the grieving process, my father’s death has not come as a shock. We were mentally prepared for the worst and the doctors and nurses caring for him at the hospital had been tactfully and sensitively explaining his deteriorating condition. When death finally came, it wasn’t unexpected.

Attending a funeral: on ROTL?

Perhaps inevitably, I have reflected on how I would have reacted had my father’s death occurred while I was still in prison. The final establishment I’d been at until earlier this year is a long distance from my parents’ home, so the chances of getting Release on Temporary Licence (ROTL) to spend some time with my father during his final illness might not have been great. No doubt I’d have been called up to the office to be notified by a chaplain or a wing officer of my dad’s death and then I’d have been left to grieve alone.

Of course, since I was at a Cat-D (open prison) for the last year of my sentence, I suppose there was a chance that I’d have been given permission to at least attend the funeral without an officer as an escort. Turning up at a sombre family event of this type in handcuffs and chained to a screw – even a decent bloke I got on well with – is not something that I’d have really considered inflicting on my relatives.

Had I still been in a Cat-B or Cat-C, I suppose I’d have made the difficult decision not to have submitted an application to attend at all. I think that it’s a fair bet that current staff shortages in many establishments mean that scarce resources are making such escorted visits on compassionate grounds much more difficult to organise, even if the will is there from governors to make them happen.

A final resting place

However, mercifully, I’d already been released months earlier and so I had the chance to spend some time with my father before he died. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, but I am finding it a great comfort to have been able to say goodbye.

I’m now also realising just how much paperwork, bureaucracy and arrangements are required, even when a person has died of natural causes in a hospital. Being able to take on most of this responsibility myself is proving to be quite therapeutic. Again, had I still been in prison, none of this would have been possible, including just picking up a phone to call relatives or council offices to notify them of the situation.

Anyway, this is the reason that regular readers will have to wait a short while before I have the chance to post again. I will be back soon. Thanks for waiting.

Kids Who Kill and Our Prisons

Whenever a child commits murder – or some other heinous crime – there is the predictable media-led sensation. Child psychologists are rolled out to pen ‘expert’ opinions on why kids kill, educationalists give their views, politicians have their say and there is general hand-wringing and angst over where we have all gone wrong. Often the blame is shifted onto ‘modern’ culture, particularly over violent video games or the easy availability of knives or guns.

The horrific murder of teacher Anne Maguire in April by a 15-year old pupil armed with a kitchen knife is a truly nightmarish saga from any perspective. Every teacher deals with a certain number of troubled children during their career, but – particularly when dealing with disturbed teenagers – there is a degree of risk. Usually this is manageable, but very occasionally the troubled teen turns violent. 

Classroom: a safe environment?

Actual murder in the classroom is, mercifully, very rare indeed, but nonetheless it is a terrifying prospect. I’m sure that when the news broke about the brutal circumstances of Mrs Maguire’s killing, it sent a shudder down the spine of everyone working in education. It’s impossible to imagine what her family is going through, although in their media interviews they have behaved with dignity and restraint, despite their obvious distress.

Although children who kill are a tiny minority of those who populate our prison system, they pose a seemingly intractable problem. Handing down a life sentence with a substantial minimum tariff to a young person who is not considered legally competent to vote, to leave home, to drink alcohol or to even buy cigarettes might be considered something of an anomaly. 

With an adult murderer, the courts are dealing with a person who can be held fully accountable and legally responsible for his or her actions. At the age of 15, a child can’t buy a lottery ticket. Society – and our legal system – seems to demand that children who are deemed incapable of exercising minor decision-making capacities in their everyday lives, suddenly become fully responsible for themselves and their criminal actions. 

A time of innocence?

Since England and Wales sets the age of criminal responsibility, the ‘defence of infancy’, at just ten years old (in Scotland it’s 12), this is in many ways a deeply imbalanced approach. In many other countries, the age of criminal responsibility is set much higher – often at 14 (as used to be the case under English common law) – but in some cases as high as 16 or, in a few cases, 17 or even 18. Even so, few European countries would consider sentencing a child as an adult.

The boy who murdered Mrs Maguire was 15 at the time of his crime, so there is less ambiguity than there would have been had he been much younger. Even under the old common law he would have been deemed capable of being tried for murder. During the trial, it also became clear that this was far from being a spontaneous outburst of temper or momentary loss of control. In fact, the evidence indicated that the crime had been planned over a long period of time, although the motivation still seems unclear. He also pleaded guilty, but has expressed no remorse. All in all, a deeply troubling situation that seems to fly in the face of common notions about childhood being a time of innocence.

In fact, anyone who has dealt with troubled children in a family setting, or in a professional capacity, knows only too well how violent, calculating and manipulative some of these kids can be. Years ago I did a placement in a notorious secure unit for very dangerous children held in custody after committing serious offences. There were never less than three adults present at any time, both to maintain order, as well as to protect staff from false allegations of assault or abuse. 

Some of these children were so severely disturbed, damaged and dangerous that, at least privately, I wondered whether they would ever be considered manageable risks in the community. Years later, when I was in prison myself, I did wonder whether any of the lifers and long-termers I encountered wandering around the wings in Cat-B or Cat-C prisons were the same kids I’d met back in the 1980s now grown into completely institutionalised adult cons. 

YOI Aylesbury

The future for the boy who murdered Mrs Maguire is very bleak. At the age of 16, he has been given a mandatory life sentence with a minimum term of 20 years. This is substantially above the average adult minimum tariff of 12 years. However, the judge Mr Justice Coulson, cited his “total and chilling lack of remorse” and observed that he might never be released from prison. So what does this mean in practice?

Initially, he will begin his sentence in a specialist unit of a Young Offenders Institution (YOI). When he gets to the age of 18, he will face being transferred to a YOI that accommodates young men aged 18 to 21. And after that, he will enter the adult prison system, possibly for the rest of his life.

As I’ve written in a previous blog post Glen Parva: More ‘Scum’ than Lord of the Flies, I’m fortunate that I’ve never been banged up in a YOI myself. However, I have worked closely with many young men who have and their descriptions of what goes on inside these institutions is truly disturbing, as are the latest reports issued by HM Inspectorate of Prisons. Bullying, violence and extortion (known as ‘taxing’) are rife and in many cases the young men have to fight to keep what few possessions they have, including food and clothing. Those who refuse to fight back, or can’t defend themselves, face a daily hell of exploitation and victimisation. 

If anyone imagines that the teenager who murdered Mrs Maguire is in for an easy ride, they should think again. His path through our prison system will probably be much harder – and more dangerous – than for someone who had committed this heinous offence as an adult, particularly once he reaches the age of 18 and is transferred into a mainstream YOI, probably Swinfen Hall in Staffordshire or Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire.

Scene from the film Scum (1977)

Personally, I have yet to meet any young man who has ‘graduated’ from a YOI to an adult prison who has taken anything positive from the experience, particularly in terms of rehabilitation. I’ve seen them arrive on adult wings angry, embittered and programmed to fight anyone for anything. 

Most are well on the way to being institutionalised for life (even if they aren’t serving life sentences) and many are unable to build meaningful personal relationships. In some cases, their levels of sexual frustration and violent fantasies are truly terrifying. Think Roy Minton’s cult borstal film Scum and you are getting nowhere near what goes on inside the heads of some of these young cons. They are – literally – ticking timebombs waiting to go off, causing more mayhem and misery, and perhaps even murder, in their wake.

Of course, a fair number were very dangerous to start with. Some have endured short lives of horrific abuse – physical, emotional, sexual – within local authority institutions or dysfunctional families. Others, however, come from seemingly well-balanced homes with loving parents, as the killer of Mrs Maguire appears to have. Why he turned from being a troubled teenager into a calculating killer is something that may take years to unravel, or it may never become clear, particularly if his apparent lack of remorse undermines any therapeutic work that may be attempted while he is held in a specialist YOI unit.

A single cell

However, even if progress is made during the first two years of his sentence, I’d be willing to bet cash money that all of that will be undone with a vengeance once he reaches the mainstream YOI units for young adults. Unless there are major changes to the way these crisis-ridden institutions are run in the near future, then he’ll have to learn to fight to survive. 

By the time he reaches an adult nick, any pretence of rehabilitation will be gone. He’ll be an adult lifer and probably full of hatred, suspicion and bitterness. With our prisons awash with drugs of all kinds, he may well have developed a serious habit by the time he reaches adulthood. Fights with other youths and adult cons during his sentence will also count against him in his record. That’s why he may never be able to convince the Parole Board to release him even 30 or 40 years on.

There is another complication in this case. Mr Justice Coulson’s decision to ‘name and shame’ this child by lifting his anonymity, granted until the age of 18 under section 39 of the Children and Young Persons Act (1933), was a deeply foolish move, which I understand was opposed by the authorities who are now responsible for his care and education. The application was made by various media organisations, including – shamefully – The Guardian, a newspaper that usually takes a much more responsible line when it comes to justice issues. The fact that social media, and The Sun, had already circulated his name, is no excuse for this decision by a judge who seems far more interested in dancing to the media’s tune.

By releasing this youth’s name and photograph to the media, Mr Justice Coulson has effectively declared it to be ‘open season’ on him and his family. It has guaranteed his notoriety and made him vulnerable to attacks and assaults inside our prisons. One only has to recall the impact that a similarly misguided decision had on the two young children who murdered little Jamie Bulger in 1993. This made any attempt to manage their rehabilitation and resettlement much more difficult, as well as ultimately costing the taxpayer an inordinate amount of money to give them new identities once they had been released as adults.

YOI corridor

In fact, in this case the boy’s defence barrister, Richard Wright QC, argued that lifting his anonymity at this stage would be “wholly contrary” to the child’s welfare. Moreover, the adverse publicity “would impede his management and treatment” while in custody, where he is already on 24-hour constant suicide watch. Sadly, in his infinite wisdom, Mr Justice Coulson took a contrary view and we’ll no doubt endure a never-ending media circus with bent screws and other cons selling tittle-tattle to the tabloids over the coming decades.

I honestly don’t pretend to know whether this lad can ever really be rehabilitated. Are we the same people now as we were when we were 15 or 16? Of course not. Age often brings experience and maturity. 

However, what I am pretty certain about is that whatever good work and progress could have been made during the next two years in the special unit will now be much more difficult owing to the decision to ‘name and shame’ him in the media. Moreover, if he follows the well-worn path from YOI to adult prison in the footsteps of the dozens of other young lads I’ve met coming in from Swinfen Hall, Aylesbury or Glen Parva, then his chances of meaningful rehabilitation will be somewhere between slim and none. Sorry to be so negative, but at least I’m being honest about a prison system that seems to thrive on consistent failure.  

Drugs, Prisons and Public Policy

Well, I’m back to blogging after a week travelling. Thanks to everyone who continued to post comments and tweets. I’ll try to catch up with my replies.

As regular visitors will know, I have posted before on the issue of drugs and their negative impact in prisons and on prisoners. However, recent research reports for the Home Office have approached the issue from an evidence-based perspective (rather than the usual emotive hogswash that often passes as drugs policy debate in Britain) and this does seem to have provoked some more serious discussion of why the ‘war on drugs’ has failed, is failing and will continue to fail. All the evidence seems to suggest that criminalising the possession of drugs just doesn’t have a significant impact when it comes to reducing drugs use. 

Failing to keep drugs out of prisons

I suppose I should make my own position clear for the avoidance of any doubt. I have never – and I mean NEVER – taken any illegal substances in my life (even when abroad in countries where there is effective decriminalisation of personal possession). However, I have had to pick up the pieces when younger family members and close friends have got into difficulties over drugs use, including making visits to A&E departments and sitting up all night next to a bed holding a bucket. 

My personal preference would be that these substances didn’t circulate, particularly having seen the misery that they can cause users and their families (mine included). However, we live in the real world and both legal and illegal drugs exist, people use them and they cause all manner of problems. So my main interest is in how, as a society, we can better manage the problem and minimise the harms that result. I suppose you could call me a Utilitarian when it comes to drugs policies.

I believe that a major part of the challenge facing any government that seeks to legislate on this emotive issue is to tackle to so-called ‘moral’ argument against drug use. My own view is that this movement has its roots in the early 20th century and is linked to the whole temperance drive against the abuse of alcohol and other drugs – primarily laudanum (an opiate solution) that could be purchased over the counter at chemists shops for centuries. Although classified as a Class A substance under the Misuse of Drugs Act (1971), tincture of opium is still manufactured pharmaceutically in the UK and can be prescribed for medical use. The moral argument is that since drugs can cause harm, they should be strictly controlled and all non-medical use strongly 

discouraged by the threat of punishment.  

Wings: drugs are easy to find in jail

The problem is that, as with any form of prohibition, demand merely drives the manufacture and supply underground, as well as the price on the street upwards. My own moral condemnation is reserved for the cartels and their insidious networks that supply and promote this form of big business. Incredible profits are generated across the globe. 

Let’s take a quick look at the official figures. In 2013, it was estimated by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) that the annual global drugs trade is worth around $435 billion, with the cocaine racket alone worth $84 billion per year. Drugs activity (production, distribution and sale) represents around 50 percent of the total income generated by all organised criminal activity globally. 

That’s why the individuals who are – understandably – most concerned to keep drugs illegal are those who make the biggest profits from the trade. It does make you wonder whether the cartels are covert donors to any of the major campaigns against decriminalisation of drugs. That is pure speculation on my part, but if you think about it, it would make perfect sense. For the major players in the drugs industry, supporting decriminalisation would be like the proverbial turkeys voting for Christmas.

Cooking up

There can also be no doubt that drug use is a major problem in UK prisons. If we take a look at the official statistics contained in the report issued by the Parliamentary Home Affairs Committee in December 2012 we find that:

• 70 percent of offenders report drug misuse prior to going to prison

• 51 percent of prisoners report drug dependency

• 35 percent of prisoners admit injecting drugs

Moreover, a survey by the Prison Reform Trust issued in September 2012 revealed that 19 percent of prisoners who had ever used heroin reported first using it in prison. That’s a pretty grim statistic and a desperately sad reflection on our penal system.

The Home Affairs Committee observed: “We accept that prisons cannot be hermetically sealed and that it will never be possible to eradicate completely the availability of drugs within prisons. However, the fact that almost a quarter of prisoners surveyed found it easy to get drugs in prison is deeply disturbing. The methods of reducing supply are only effective if they are implemented as intended.” Indeed.

Pills: easy to smuggle in

So those are some of the figures. Now let’s take a look at the impact of drugs in our prisons. I can state from personal observation that drugs are easily available inside the nick, perhaps even more so than outside. Prices are much higher than on the street – that takes into account the higher risk factors involved – and the quality is even more suspect. God alone knows what some of these substances have been cut with in order to convert a quarter into a half ounce and so on. 

For years, crumbled up bleach tablets – which used to be issued to prisoners to sterilise WCs and sinks in cells – were a popular cutting agent, along with talc, crushed up sugar or even prison-issue tea whitener. As anyone who knows anything about the misuse of drugs will confirm, many deaths or serious reactions to intravenous drug use arise from whatever substance the active ingredient has been cut with in order to increase its volume ahead of final sale.

What has it been cut with?

Cons who can source drugs and arrange for them to be smuggled into prisons can establish themselves as men of power and influence, although their positions at the top are always precarious. In my experience, it’s usually the quietest, most unassuming blokes who really control the trade. They don’t like drawing too much attention to themselves – or flaunting their ill-gotten gains. In fact, little of the money generated inside ever goes near the walls of the nick – all transactions are done outside in cash and are therefore almost untraceable. 

All a well-connected dealer who happens to be doing his ‘bird’ (sentence) inside prison needs is access to a ready supply of contraband mobile phones or SIM cards and mules willing to get the product inside. Based on my own time in the nick, I’ve come to the conclusion that most drugs that come into the prison system are brought in by staff – uniformed or civilian – rather than via the visits hall. This also seems to be accepted by many screws who are well aware of the impact that their bent colleagues can have on the supply of drugs. That’s why prison security departments keep officers and other staff under at least as close surveillance as they do the cons in their establishments.

Smuggled 'joeys': drugs

Recently, we have had a spate of prison staff being sent down for involvement in the smuggling of mobiles and other illicit contraband to prisoners. Of course, this has always been a problem, but these cases highlight the routes by which the drugs trade keeps inmates supplied with gear and other substances, as well as the communications mechanism required to organise the business. Some enterprising cons even manage to run external drugs operations from their prison cells.

Essentially, mules fall into one of three categories: those who act from ‘love’ (ie they have formed an illicit relationship with a con); those who are in it for pure profit (mostly screws) and those who are being blackmailed. In addition, ordinary cons who get into debt – very easy for those who have a habit – are prime targets to be manipulated into smuggling. In these cases, their families can be put under incredible pressure to bring drugs into prisons during visits. They are sometimes caught in the act and then charged, with the prospect of being sent down themselves. 

Pressure to get families involved

The picture is particularly bleak for those kids whose dad is inside if their mum then gets caught trying to smuggle in drugs for him. Both parents can end up serving time, while the children face the consequences outside.

I’m actually convinced that on occasion, these amateur mules are offered up by the real kingpins as sacrificial lambs, because when the security screws have been tipped off about an incoming consignment, it means that much larger amounts of drugs can be brought in while attention is focused elsewhere. In these cases, security looks good because its screws have intercepted a small decoy parcel of drugs, while the bosses on the wings get their product to sell in under the radar. It’s only the amateur patsy and the prisoner he or she is coming to visit that end up getting the heat. 

The influence of drugs inside the nick can be all-pervasive, a situation that isn’t helped by chronic shortages of frontline staff. You can see lads wandering round landings stoned out of their heads or vomiting in the wing washrooms. Since so-called ‘legal’ highs are easily available inside and don’t show up in Mandatory Drug Testing (MDTs), these are particularly popular under a variety of different names. 

MDTs: encourage harder drugs

The MDT system itself also tends to encourage the use of harder drugs, such as heroin, simply because cannabis remains in the system for up to 28 days, while smack can be detectable for anything from a few hours to about two days (although in the case of very heavy users, it can still be detected up to seven days after use). As this is common knowledge among cons, there is a preference to drift towards to harder drugs as the risk of detection can be much lower. Also, as I’ve mentioned above, so-called ‘legal’ highs aren’t tested during MDTs.

The availability of drugs inside prisons fuels turf wars between dealers (and this can spill over on to the streets outside), as well as cycles of debt, violence and punishment beatings. The trade can easily drag in family members as they are ripe for pressure to pay off debts or to smuggle in contraband to their loved ones. The whole environment can be highly corrosive, with younger prisoners sometimes being introduced to hard drugs for the first time. When a first timer leaves the nick with a serious drug habit, then you know that our present penal policy is failing disastrously.

Being honest, I doubt that decriminalisation of drugs for personal use, alone, would result in lower drugs use inside prisons. Cons resort to drugs to help them cope with the stresses and pressures of prison life – including boredom and depression. However, if new legislation reduced the number of people with existing drug habits from being imprisoned, then the problem could become more manageable.

Methadone: the 'green lady'

A much greater focus on a drugs habit as a medical or psychological issue – rather than as a disciplinary problem – could also encourage inmates to seek treatment and support from counsellors. At present, there is little real incentive for prisoners to kick their habits. In my experience, cons who are on the methadone programme rarely get clean. They simply use their daily dose of the ‘green lady’ to manage their habits and often to supplement their misuse of other illicit drugs.

Where I would see a major benefit to society is by imprisoning less people who have drug habits in the first place. Decriminalisation of all drugs for personal possession and the establishment of a legalised, safe supply system via licensed pharmacies offers the prospect of reducing the illegal street trade substantially. It would also reduce the number of deaths as a result of contaminated substances or impure doses. Such a policy would focus on harm reduction, accompanied by easy-access treatment programmes for those who wished to cease using. 

Can the Prison Service cope?

Many prisoners are serving sentences for drug-related crime, including street robbery and burglary to fund their habits. While decriminalisation might not completely eliminate these offences, I believe that by properly managing addictions, fewer people with dependencies would turn to crime as a means of paying for their habits. 

Radical as it may seem, I believe that decriminalisation offers our society the best chance of reducing crime, cutting our prison population and reducing reoffending. It’s just a pity that so many politicians – and tabloid leader writers – seem to be unable to break their own addictions to peddling faux morality and scoring cheap party political points. 

If David Cameron really fears that decriminalisation “sends the wrong message” about drugs, then what the hell does he think of the message that the easy availability of illegal (and legal) substances in our prisons sends? My answer would be “institutional failure”.

Telling Tales out of Jail

We’ve recently had a spate of ‘inside’ exclusive stories in the media about celebrity prisoners and their alleged doings in the nick. Although such leaks and gossip in the red top tabloid press are nothing new, these articles – sometimes entirely bogus or exaggerated – often offer a highly distorted view of prison life and, inevitably, this has an impact on public perceptions of what goes on inside the walls.

Over the past few weeks we’ve been treated to some ‘celebrity’ gossip concerning our current national hate figures Rolf Harris and Stuart Hall. It’s to be expected that fallen idols who were once central figures in the world of popular entertainment for decades continue to fascinate some sections of the general public, especially when the individuals concerned have been banged up for something very ‘naughty’ (to use a term common among cons for sex offenders or ‘nonces’). 

Oscar Wilde's trial in the Police News

Tales about how one or other of these elderly prisoners supposedly got spat at in the jail chapel or had a row with a family member during a visit or even – allegedly – chucked his wedding ring in the prison pond have become staple tabloid fodder, especially in the Daily Mail which never seems to tire of giving cons a good kicking. Of course, this is nothing new. 

The Victorian tabloids – ‘penny dreadfuls’ as they are sometimes called – were just as bad. They enjoyed a particular feeding frenzy when the celebrated playwright, novelist and wit Oscar Wilde was sent down for two years’ hard labour in 1895. The scandal was front page news and none did it better than the Police News.

Having been convicted of gross indecency with other males, he fitted very definitely in the category of ‘celebrity nonce’, even back then. These days Wilde would probably have ended up on what is called a Vulnerable Prisoners’ Unit (VPU), known to generations of cons as ‘going on the numbers’ (a reference to Prison Rule 45, formerly Rule 43: Removal from Association) for his own protection from those fellow cons anxious to show their disapproval by dishing out a good bashing.  

The wider question is how all this gossip and tittle-tattle gets out into the public domain. Occasionally, a prison officer or other member of staff will get his or her collar felt by Inspector Knacker of the Yard on charges of misconduct in public office, which usually involves an allegation of having supplied confidential information to a journalist in return for cash payments. More of these cases seem to have been coming up recently as a result of police investigations into some of the dubious practices of the UK newspaper industry. 

There is some fuzziness around the edges of this particular legislation because the law doesn’t really provide a clear definition of who is a ‘public officer’. The relevant case law seems to suggest that it is the nature of the duties involved, as well as the violation of public trust, that is more important that the holding of a specific office. In theory, it seems that a ‘public officer’ doesn’t necessary need to have been formally appointed or even paid from public funds to fall under the jurisdiction of the law on misconduct. This might be considered rather surprising in view of the fact that the maximum penalty is a life sentence!

Daily Mail: loves a con story

What is pretty clear, however, is that any prison official (whether a governor, screw or civilian member of staff) who flogs gossip and other inside information to the media will be breaking the law. Such breaches of trust can have serious implications for both serving prisoners and for ex-cons whose time in custody might be of interest to the readers of the tabloid press.

Celebrity cons – regardless of what they have been sent down for – are particularly prone to the leaking of such inside information, as are those prisoners who have been convicted of particularly heinous offences. Even some very commonplace or minor incident inside the nick – such as a heated argument or an inmate getting put on a charge for breaking the rules (getting ‘nicked’) – can make a juicy tabloid headline. And even if the tale isn’t true, well never let the facts get in the way of a good tabloid story.

Lord Archer, convicted for perjury in July 2001 and sent down for four years, was a popular target for negative media coverage while he was inside. In fact, this led to him being shipped out from a Cat-D (open prison) back to the joys of HMP Lincoln (a Victorian Cat-B local) for a few weeks following one particular media-generated scandal involving his alleged social activities when he had been granted Release on Temporary Licence (ROTL). In the end it was all revealed to have been a storm in a tea cup – actually a lunch plate – fuelled by the media and he was subsequently returned to another open prison for the rest of his sentence.

Lord Archer: fitted up

Causing any kind of embarrassment to the Prison Service when you are either a celebrity con or a notorious ‘name’ is never looked upon kindly. In fact, for those who are in an open nick it can be a sure-fire way to get a one-way ticket back to closed conditions, even when the media has grossly over-exaggerated an incident, real or imagined.

To be fair, not all inside stories originate from the screws or civilian staff. Quite a number are peddled by fellow cons anxious to make a quick buck on the back of any celebrities they may – or may not – have actually bumped into on wing landing. Sometimes these are just recycled rumours or idle gossip. Groups of cons can gossip away like schoolgirls in a playground. If I had a quid for every story told or retold by fellow inmates that started with “apparently…” I could probably afford to retire early.

It can be dangerous to try to sell tip-offs or gossip about fellow prisoners while the would-be vendor is still in custody. Contacting the media without prior permission is strictly against the prison rules, specifically Prison Service Instruction (PSI) 37/2010 - Prisoners’ Access to the Media. Sometimes hot stories about other cons can be repeated to family and friends during a social visit with instructions to go and try to flog the information to the tabloids.

However, once a con has been released it’s almost impossible to gag them. For an ex-prisoner who has just been kicked out of the main gate with £46 discharge grant in his or her pocket, the temptation to try to make a wodge of extra cash by phoning around tabloid news desks can prove just too strong to resist. Just knowing – or inventing – a bit of ‘hot’ gossip about a fellow con who is either a celebrity or else infamous for their crime could be the only saleable thing they have to offer, particularly if they need some quick cash to fund a drugs habit or other addiction. 

Where's the nearest tabloid editor?

That’s just one of the reasons that famous, or infamous, prisoners need to be very choosy about who they associate with inside. Your best jail ‘mate’ can easily turn out to be a real snake in the grass and, well, go on to ‘grass’ you up to the gutter press as soon as he or she gets out of the nick.

It’s not just stories about famous or infamous cons that get leaked to the press. General ‘shock, horror!’ tales of idle prisoners living lives of luxury at the taxpayers’ expense, including state of the art gyms and Sky TV on giant flatscreens also do the rounds from time to time. These articles seem to be deliberately calculated to outrage retired Army majors in Bognor or the blue rinse brigade from Tunbridge Wells. Needless to observe, almost all of these prisoner-bashing tales are fabricated and fictional.

The Sky TV subscription story has done the rounds for a few years now. No public sector prison has ever permitted prisoners to have subscription channels on their rented in-cell TV sets. The rules are absolutely clear: a maximum total of nine freeview channels, including BBC 1 and 2, ITV and Channels 4 and 5, plus a few others. Anything else is pure fantasy, as any con who has done time in a public sector nick will confirm. 

Believe it or not... No Sky in prisons

The seemingly unquenchable media thirst for celebrity gossip neatly mirrors a general societal obsession with sending people to prison, whether they really are a threat to the community or not. Sometimes it seems that almost regardless of the actual offence, the red-faced retired majors and their blue rinsed ladies (not to mention the tabloid editors) are only really happy when reading in their morning paper that every criminal up before the beak has been sent down for a goodly stretch. 

When these twin fixations come together in the form of a media splash about how a fallen idol or famous person is having a torrid time in the slammer, everyone wins. Except, of course, the prisoner and his or her family and friends. Moreover, I doubt that many victims of the crimes of these cons feel too chuffed about seeing such stories splashed across the tabloid front pages day after day.

It’s always worth remembering that many of these celebrity prison stories are entirely fictitious, having been cooked up by either a fellow con in a bid to make a quick buck or else by a dodgy member of the prison staff keen to do the same. Of course, for governors, screws and civilian staff the stakes can be much higher than for inmates who blab. When rumbled, members of staff can face the loss of their career, a criminal trial and, if convicted, are liable to find themselves on the wrong side of a heavy steel cell door. In the end, no-one really likes a grass, whether in prison uniform or dressed as a screw.