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.
