The Loose Screw (18 page)

It was from this room that radio and camera would closely monitor every incident. In short, it was the nerve centre of the prison. It was rather like the bridge of a ship, although looking around at some of the characters that were working there it looked more like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. It was also from this room that the two electronic doors that led from the main Category A unit to its exercise yard, segregation unit and visits hall were controlled.

Later I was to encounter many times the frustration of waiting by these doors whilst the auxiliary on the controls refused to override the system and open the two doors together. This procedure was meant to be applied in the event of an incident in order to allow the staff to respond as quickly as possible and not get delayed for valuable seconds waiting for one door to close before the other opened. I remember on one occasion standing on the wrong side of the inner door screaming at the control room through the intercom to open the doors whilst watching in horror as the officer that was bringing in the exercise party was being seriously assaulted on the other side of the door. The excuse was that because he had already opened the outer door and was in the corridor, but had not been able to close the outer door before being assaulted, the auxiliary could not get authorization to override the system. It only took about three or four minutes for the doors to finally be opened, but that was long enough for the officer to sustain serious injuries, which put him off work for months and left him mentally scarred forever.

On our final two days, we were required to take tests on basic security including which key opened which door, first aid in the workplace and also a food-handling hygiene course in case we became cleaning officers in the future. It was also the time we would learn of our new places of work for the next couple of years. Although we could give our preferences as to where we would like to begin our career, the ultimate decision was left to manpower services, who placed us where the staffing levels were at their lowest.

9

CATEGORY A UNIT

I and the other lads from my course all asked to be put in the Category A unit, a request that baffled most of the staff we told. The reason for this request was because we all agreed that, although the unit held the highest category and some of the most dangerous prisoners in the system, it was a lot smaller and seemed less daunting than the chaotic scenes we saw on the main house blocks. It was true to say that, although the unit had fewer daily incidents than the house blocks, when it did kick off you could expect it to be on a much larger scale. This was due to the type of prisoner held within its walls. There was a large Irish contingency convicted of various terrorist attacks carried out on mainland Britain, and the very nature of their training within their organizations meant they all stuck together during any acts of disruption. Most of the other prisoners at that time were what I would class as the 'old school' or 'gentlemen villains', who rarely complained so long as they got what they were entitled to and no one gave them any unnecessary grief.

I held a great deal of respect for many of the men in this category and like to think that I earned some of their respect in return for treating them with decency. In addition to these two groups, there was also a small group of nutters and one or two what just hated screws for different and possibly very valid reasons. This minority took every opportunity to join in any of the other inmates' attempts to disrupt the regime when they felt they had cause to do so.

One such incident was to greet me on my very first day as a fully trained officer on the unit and kicked off not even one hour into my shift. We had unlocked spur one on the ground floor for breakfast and one of the inmates who was due to appear in court that morning approached us and declared that he was not going. He was informed that we could not make the decision to honour his request and he would have to go to court and take it up with his solicitor once there. He stated quite clearly that the escort staff would have to drag him onto the van by force if he did not get to see his solicitor before he went. I nervously told him that his solicitor would not make it as he was probably already on his way to the court. I then made a big decision, bearing in mind it was my first day, and told him I would try to arrange a brief phone call to his solicitor before he left.

He seemed happy with this compromise, but it was short-lived as my request was disapproved by the unit senior officer who favoured the alternative of dragging him onto the van. No sooner had I delivered the news to him than he and the rest of the inmates began to smash up the spur with some ferocity. The drill at the time for such an event was to evacuate the spur and lock the inmates inside it and, considering there were only two of us on there at the time, it seemed like the sensible thing to do. However, as soon as we did this the inmates obviously gained complete control of the spur and began erecting a barricade across the main door whilst continuing to destroy the furniture. By the time the duty governor had arrived to assess the situation the spur was almost demolished and the inmates had well and truly formed very good defensive positions from where they could fight off any attempt to regain the spur.

After an hour of talks had failed to bring a peaceful end to the dispute, the riot squads were sent in and eventually regained order. It had not been an easy task and about four or five officers and inmates had sustained injuries. The damage was estimated at about two thousand pounds and all the inmates on the spur were charged with a number of offences against prison rules. I could not help thinking how it could all have been avoided if I had been allowed to let the inmate make his telephone call. As it was, the inmate in question did make his court appearance and was dragged kicking and screaming onto the van.

Most of the incidents in prison are caused in a similar way, by staff refusing to bend the rules slightly even if it means it could avert a serious problem. This method of handling incidents was very common at Belmarsh and indeed throughout the prison system. It is, I agree, difficult always to find a peaceful solution to all disagreements between staff and inmates in prison, as often the rules laid down by the Home Office do not allow for the types of compromises that would satisfy the prisoners' requests. I always believed, however, that when you were the man on the front line, facing possible injury both to yourself and others, you should have the strength of character and the authority to make a decision based on your first-hand evaluation of the circumstances. Most prison staff, especially the senior grades, that I came across during my career were incapable of making a command decision other than the one ordered at the time by a higher authority, or the one written into the contingency plans as the textbook way to deal with a particular incident.

As far as I am concerned, each and every incident you come across in prison, as indeed outside, is unique and as such you may only use the rule books as a very loose guide on how to deal with them. I would go so far as to state that ninety-nine per cent of the incidents I have been involved in that turned nasty were as a result of the staff handling them in the wrong way. The majority of inmates, especially the majority of those on the Category A unit during my time, never asked for anything unreasonable or anything that we could not have delivered without breaching security or that they were not entitled to as part of their basic rights.

It became very apparent to me, even at that early stage in my career, that many staff perceived their jobs as one big game. This element I am referring to went out of their way to incite trouble in order to gain the status of being worshipped by those with similar mentalities as good, hard screws that gave the cons fuck all and didn't take any shit. In reality, they are cowards who would run a mile if the shit really hit the fan and who made the job of the rest of us half-decent officers more difficult than did the most disruptive prisoner in the system.

It was not long before I was to come across two young officers who had exactly the attitude I have just described and who both worked on the unit when I arrived. Both were two young Yorkshire men whom I shall call Steve and John. I am not in the game of grassing people up, but they and the prisoners and staff who have come across them will know exactly who they are.

These two boys were in my opinion a right pair of pratts who led each other to believe they were the hardest things that walked the earth. Many other members of staff idolized them for the way they treated every inmate and member of staff that seemed too friendly with the prisoners as though they were the scum of the earth. I never actually saw these two hard men in a row, but they were involved in instigating almost every incident that occurred when they were on duty, before retreating to the safety of the tearoom to write up their reports while leaving other staff to sort out the tear up that usually followed.

I soon discovered to my horror that they had a bet going between them to see who could secure the most guilty verdicts on prisoners in adjudication for a substantial amount of money payable at the end of their tour in the unit. This bet was no secret among the staff or prisoners and one governor in particular, who regularly held the adjudication hearings, would enquire as to whom was winning before hearing the case, and I am sure he would pass judgment in a way that kept the score as close as possible.

During my career I hated placing prisoners on report because the whole process was time consuming and I preferred to deal with it my way and prevent the inmate's record being blotted by some petty offence. Obviously I came across some real arseholes who deserved to be nicked or left me with no alternative, as they would not let me help them avoid it. There were also times when we were ordered by senior members of staff to nick prisoners, despite the rule book stating that the decision to take such action is entirely up to the officer in question.

I remember one such occasion when the Irish contingent on spur three decided to refuse to be locked up at five o'clock one evening in protest at one of their visitors not being allowed to give him a kiss and a hug on a visit. Yet another incident was sparked off by a simple non-threatening request being refused. All the inmates on the spur, even the English ones, had to stick together and respect the others' wishes to stage this process. The spokesman for the Irish stated that they would not cause any problems but would not return to their cells until they had talked to the duty governor about the reason the request had been denied. At this time I had been working on spur three for about six months and had begun to get on well with all the inmates on there. In particular, I had a good relationship with a man called Ronnie Johnson, a big old fellow from Bermondsey. The order came back that we were to go into the spur and verbally give the inmates a direct order to return to their cells. When I returned to the spur, Ronnie, who had a heart condition, was in his cell complaining of chest pains, so this being the priority I called for the medical team who promptly arrived at the scene. They took Ronnie to his cell and laid him on his bed in order to examine him and I carried on with my previous task.

As expected, every inmate refused the orders and stated again that they wanted to speak to the duty governor. When I reported this back to the senior officer, he asked me what Johnson had said. I explained his current position, but was told to get back in and give him the order. Even if Ronnie had obeyed the order, I could not have locked him up as he was still undergoing medical treatment in his cell.

Again, as expected, Ronnie told me that he had to stick with the others and I told him that I felt it was ridiculous for me to give him an order in his position anyway, so I left without giving it. The following day I and the other officer involved attended the unit adjudication to give evidence against the twelve members of spur three's population. The incident passed by peacefully in the end, with the duty governor admitting that the decision had been wrong and assuring the inmate in question that he could greet his loved ones with a kiss and a hug on the next visit.

All involved pleaded guilty to refusing direct orders and were given three days' cellular confinement and seven days' loss of canteen access. Ronnie was the last inmate to attend and asked the governor to ask me one question. He asked if I had actually given him the direct order or not. This was my first time in adjudication and I was taken by surprise when I had to answer something and not just read the standard details of the incident I had read five times already. As soon as I was asked, I noticed the huge figure of the unit's principal officer glaring at me and nodding his head to tell me just to say yes to the question. I could not lie about the facts, however, and had to say that I had not given him the order due to his position at the time. I thought the PO was going to explode over the desk and kick the shit out of me, and the governor did not look too amused either. He told Ronnie that on the evidence I gave he was not guilty, but said he was worried what the others might think if he returned as the only man on the spur not to be locked up for the next three days.

Ronnie agreed and stated that he would have refused the order anyway had I given it and he accepted a guilty verdict and the same punishment as the rest of them. Once he had been taken out, I tried to leave but the PO screamed at me to get back in. He and the governor spent the next half an hour yelling at me about how it is always our word against theirs and I should never tell the truth when put in that position by a prisoner.

When I returned to the spur, Ronnie apologized for putting me on the spot but commended me on my honesty, especially as he had seen the PO glaring and nodding his head and knew I had got a right bollocking after he'd left. Big Ronnie and I got on quite well after that incident and I held a lot of respect for him. He was what I considered to be one of the old school, the likes of whom I had met growing up in south London. I also got on well with his wife and other members of his family when they visited him, especially his two young boys, Liam and Alfie. Both boys were proper little tearaways but the youngest, Alfie, had the most mischievous character.