Taken from Time for Cannabis, The Prison Years, available on Amazon in paperback and on Kindle
HMP Whitemoor
During
my time on remand in Norwich I had somehow managed to give up smoking
cigarettes. This had been on New Year's Eve; not exactly a
resolution but a definite conscious decision. I had passed through
the time of bail and the tremendous stress involved with the court
case and awaiting sentence without starting again. Even the months
of boredom awaiting transfer had not driven me back to that
particular demon and deadly weed!
On
the day of transfer to Whitemoor Maximum Security prison my resolve
came very close to breaking. After a journey which seemed to take
hours (it actually took just over an hour), with myself and another
convict P handcuffed together in the prison bus, we arrived at
Whitemoor only to be whisked through and placed in a waiting cell in
reception. Although from the outside the building looked remarkably
new and clean, situated out in the Moors, the most striking feature
was the heavy repressive "vibe" I felt as we entered. As P
made himself a thin roll-up I suddenly wanted my first cigarette in
eleven months. I can only be grateful to P for offering me one when
I'd mentioned it! If he had not done so my cravings would have
increased to the point where I would have happily begged, but it was
his very offer which hardened my resolve. I decided to turn away
from the demon and await a nice cup of tea on the wing instead.
F
or
a maximum security prison, the search of our possessions, all in
prison transit boxes, was remarkably light and brief. My disposable
gas lighter was disposed of, as they were not allowed here. We were
then taken through the endless locked gates, down the long
camera-filled corridors, and put onto C wing.
Whitemoor
consisted of four wings, A, B, C, and D. Wings A and B were reserved
for the nonces and beasts. Sex offenders and the worst type of
serial killers, being under constant (and maybe understandable)
threat from the rest of the prison community, are considered
vulnerable by the authorities, and in Whitemoor there are two wings
to themselves. In theory at least they are never allowed to mix with
other prisoners, for their own sakes. In fact this seriously
disrupts the system, since it results in the necessity of constantly
monitoring the flowing of prisoners to ensure that they do not cross,
which slows down movements. They have their separate library
evenings, separate gym. sessions, separate work and separate exercise
times on the Astroturf.
What
is not separated, believe it or not, is visits! This is probably due
to the more or less correct assumption that nobody will attack
anybody else whilst on the way to, or during, a family visit.
Although the two types of prisoner are taken to the visiting hall,
under escort, at different times, the time spent waiting for the
movements from these "vulnerable" wings for visits to
cease, before the rest of us can move, and the fact that the nonces
are sitting down one end of the hall and us at the other, only adds
to the general resentments and hatred. At our end we are constantly
concerned lest our small children stray down the other end of the
hall. The hatred we feel for most of those men is often shared by
many of the screws.
Personally,
I can only think that such a system of trying to run two maximum
security prisons in one was devised by a crazy man!
Each
of the four wings at Whitemoor houses three spurs, labelled blue, red
and green. It would come as no surprise to anyone experienced in the
prison system, that although the floors of the spurs are coloured
orange, green and blue, this bears absolutely no relationship to the
spurs' names! Each spur houses approximately 42 inmates on three
landings.
During
my stay there was free flow between spurs but not between wings,
although C wing (my wing) and D wing did mix on education, exercise,
at work, and in the gymasium.
Being
a new prison the cells were equipped with flush toilets and wash
basins. The windows were heavily barred; the view out of mine was of
a small patch of grass separating us from another wing. I could not
see the sky, day or night. At night the area was floodlit. Day and
night it was observed through cameras. All the cells were singles.
The noise factor was quite high, even at night. Outside the cell
door was the landing, and on the ground floor ("the Ones")
some men had put tables and chairs so that they could sit and play
cards, talk, or eat together. Also on this ground floor there was a
pool table and table tennis table but one had to find one's own table
tennis ball.
The
three spurs joined together and led into an area which was originally
meant as a dining area, where the serving hatch was; situated. Meal
times were at 8.15 am, noon and 4.45 pm, when we would go along and
collect our slops on plastic plates and eat it with plastic knives
and forks.
The
quality of the food, out of kindness, can only be described as very
poor. The ingredients were fine, but mostly ruined during cooking or
standing round for literally hours before being brought from the main
kitchens to the wings for serving.
Most
of my meals were binned. The prison service needs severe criticism
for the quality of food in most prisons. One wonders if the fact
that most prisoners are fed at a cost less than the dogs who patrol
the grounds, reflects the true feelings of the authorities towards
convicts.
Do
they regard us as animals? If they treat people like animals then
the chances are that animals is what will eventually be released back
into society.
We
had access to small but reasonably well-equipped inmate kitchens
where we could cook whatever we wanted, which could be ordered via
the canteen once a week, and those who had money mostly did this.
We
were allowed to spent up to £5 per week on top of the wage, which
was about £6 depending on occupation.
There
was also a water boiler so we could make our own tea. Each week we
were provided with tea bags, sugar and powdered milk for this
purpose. There was a great deal of pilfering from the main kitchen,
a necessary part of life in this nick, everything from milk to
chickens.
The
other facilities around the wing consisted of a video and TV room,
communal showers, and, later on, washing machines. There were three
monitored telephones per wing, operated by special HMP phone cards
bought from the canteen.
Outside
and between the spurs was a small fenced-in and filthy yard (made
filthy by the inmates throwing rubbish and scraps from their
overlooking windows, and seldom cleaned); this yard was about 30 feet
square; this was where some 240 inmates were allowed for 40 minutes
twice daily for exercise, or, in the summer, to sit in a clean area
in the sun.
The
general attitudes of the inmates, I believe largely caused by their
treatment, manifests in their attitude to their environment and the
few facilities. Everything from the TV's to the pool tables are
subject to the vandalism that reflects the tension and the lack of
self esteem felt by the men. During my stay at Whitemoor there were
a number of incidents of release of tension in this way. One case
involved a man, quite intoxicated on the local brew, Hooch, pissing
on to the pool table from the third floor!
There
was a considerable amount of Hooch on the wings, and a lot of hard
drugs. The drugs somehow kept the lid on the place, most of the
time. Each wing contained some 15 to 20 lifers, many with
recommendations of long sentences, as well as a lot of guys doing
over twenty years. Almost everyone was doing over eight years.
My
ten-year sentence was small compared to most. In a situation like
this most men have little to lose, and the atmosphere is one of
constant tension and frustration, like you would expect from caged
animals. Once a place like this "goes off" there can be
untold damage, violence, and even loss of life. Hence the screws,
affectionately known as "kanga's" are just as tense and
wary as the inmates. (Kanga = kangaroo = screw = prison officer).
During my stay of ten months at Whitemoor there were not many
occurrences of trouble calling for the presence of outside "mufti's"
or riot squads. I lived there in quiet times.
The
first time I witnessed such an occasion was three days after my
arrival, but I will come to that shortly.
The
day after our arrival we were taken down to the stores to collect our
clothes and kit. I must say that it was a surprise to find that most
of the clothes were in reasonable condition. We were given two pairs
of jeans, three striped blue shirts, underwear and socks, tee-shirts,
a jumper and a denim jacket.
Of
course we would not really need cold weather clothes since we were
hardly likely to be going out much. These items were all put into a
transit box which we carried back, via about eight sets of locked
gates, to our cells.
Upon
arrival at HMP Whitemoor, in theory, each inmate was to undergo a
period of induction in a separate building known, for some reason, as
the "spud unit" . This is where one would be told how the
place was run, what was offered to you and what was required of you.
Unfortunately, when we arrived this unit was full up with overflow
from the block. The block, a segregation punishment unit, and the
spud unit were full during my whole stay at Whitemoor, although I
myself never visited either. Some guys spent their whole time at
Whitemoor down there, and never came onto the wing. Every prisoner
in the block, though, had to have a cell reserved for him on the
wing, which meant quite a few empty cells, some of which were never
occupied. This was something of a joke against the authorities.
Very
few men seemed to regard a trip to the block as any sort of threat,
despite the stories of beatings by the officers down there, and the
resulting "shit protests", a situation where inmates would
cover themselves and their cells with their own excrement, a practice
which originated in the prisons to stop such beatings, the assumption
being that no officer would want to enter such a cell or touch such a
person; mostly true!
But
for us new arrivals, the running of Whitemoor was to remain a mystery
which we had to unravel ourselves, as we were not able to go on
induction. Hence we were put straight on the wing, a different wing
to our mates from the time of remand in Norwich.
For
the first two days it was the height of boredom, confusion, and
tension. On the third day the situation changed. There was a
contained riot and lock down, although in fact it was the other way
round; the riot and smash up resulted from the lock down!
Apparently
some men had been discovered with weapons and files, trying to file
through the bars of a cell window. This was only natural of course.
But the result was that the inexperienced and out-of-touch Governor,
whom I never even saw at any stage during my sentence (he was
probably justifiably too frightened to show his face), ordered that
the whole prison be "spun" (searched) and any "excess
kit" removed.
The
doors were not unlocked that morning. The screws, being well trained
fascists who follow orders to the letter and without question,
proceeded to search each cell in turn. As the officers moved through
the wing, coming closer and closer to my cell, I could hear more and
more shouting and banging and smashing.
Eventually
it was my turn.
Three
screws came into the cell and ordered me to strip for a search. They
then searched the cell. The items that I had and which were
confiscated were: a plastic chair which had been in the cell when I
arrived but which technically belonged in the video room ( all the
chairs were actually in cells), a metal tea spoon I had brought from
Norwich, a plastic shaving mirror, a second blue plastic bowl I had
also brought with me, and a second white plastic plate!
Dangerous
stuff, particularly the mirror which, if waved in an officer's face,
could send him into serious shock!
After
they left my cell the situation outside worsened. It was now well
past lunch time and the spins were continuing; we were not being
given lunch! Then shouting started and rumour spread that a man on
the ones had refused them entry to his cell, by barricading his door.
Of
course, there are procedures for this, and entry was forced, and, so
the shouts claimed, the man had been grabbed, had his arm broken,
and received a serious kicking. Then the place "went off".
I could hear sinks and toilets being smashed everywhere.
From
my small window I could see flaming papers descending into the yard
outside. Individuals were being dragged off to the block, some being
quite badly kicked and punched. The long-timers were shouting
threats at the screws. I heard one prisoner shout "I'm doing a
long time you bastards, just wait til I get my chance." The
civilian "mufti" squad was called in. Unknown to us the
whole outside of the prison was surrounded by coach loads of police
and army, and helicopters filled the skies. Safely inside my cell I
must admit to being quite amused and entertained; it certainly broke
the monotony!
At
about 6 PM. my cell door was opened and I was told to go and collect
my dinner. We were being let out two at a time, and about thirty or
so officers were standing around the wing. I was escorted down to
the serving hatch and back by no less than four padded and visored
"mufties" who never uttered a word and neither did I; it
just seemed so funny to me! I collected a dinner, stone cold, and
after one taste, back in my cell, flushed it away. I had been
allowed to fill my Thermos flask, so at least had a nice cuppa. This
procedure took several hours, and was repeated as soon as it was
over, so we could have an equally bad evening meal. The day ended
quite quietly and I went to sleep, wondering what the hell was going
to happen next.
The
following day we were still locked in our cells, all work and
education and association being cancelled, whilst various inmates
were taken away for instant transfer throughout the national prison
dispersal system. Altogether I think some 40 to 50 inmates were
moved out.
It
didn't make a lot of difference to me, since I did not know anyone
anyway, but it was certainly an experience, and a demonstration of
the trouble that can be caused by an ill-worded command from an
out-of-touch Governor. Apparently this same Governor had caused a
riot several years earlier, in Norwich prison!
The
following day we were still left locked up. This was known as a
"lock-down", and let out a few at a time for a late and
cold breakfast. We all stayed in our cells until after lunch, when
letters from the Governor were pushed under our doors, saying that if
things remained quiet we would be returning to normal routines soon.
As it happened, that was on the following day.
Well,
what an introduction to Whitemoor for me!
It
was like a lesson on in-cell smash-ups and "ship-outs",
mostly involving men I did not know but with whom I had considerable
sympathy, both because we were all locked up and because the removal
of such petty yet helpful everyday items from our possessions was
nonsensical and inhumane. Why these men were in prison in the first
place, was irrelevant to me.
This
is a question which remains unasked until one gets to know someone
better. For me the reality was that whoever they were or whatever
they had done, the system was almost certainly as bias against them
as it had been against me. A heck of a lot of men in places like
Whitemoor were awaiting appeals on both conviction and sentence.
I
feel pretty certain that some of these men were innocent, and many
may eventually have won their appeals.
Of
course the facts that innocent men can get convicted by their
so-called peers, and that on the other hand guilty men can have
convictions quashed due to technicalities or misbehaviour by the
police, forensic scientists or prosecution service (CPS), makes quite
a mockery of the legal system. Who knows whether it is preferable to
bang up a few innocent in order to keep the guilty off the streets,
or to free a few guilty in order that miscarriages of justice on the
innocent cease.
Whatever
conclusions one reaches, whatever one's feelings about how prisoners
should be treated, prisons like Whitemoor seem devised to remove
individuality (at which they are unsuccessful), induce fear and even
paranoia, and produce a very angry, bitter, twisted, warped
personality on release.
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