As Britain reels from a prison crisis, The Telegraph publishes accounts from an inmate at a Category B prison – the second highest security level – to find out what life is really like there. Recently, the Independent Monitoring Board (IMB) found that the prison is chronically overcrowded and understaffed and that self-harm and drug use are widespread.
The inmate, a British professional and entrepreneur, is in custody awaiting trial on non-violent crimes, which he denies. To protect his identity, his name is not being used. Other names and nicknames were also changed.
During my time in prison I was aware of the violence around me and was beaten once myself, but until last week I had never experienced a truly serious attack on a prisoner. I've probably seen more serious attacks on officers.
Over the last three weeks there has been a gradual change in the atmosphere of the Spur – a nervousness resulting from the increasing frequency of prisoner-on-prisoner beatings, with more and more injured prisoners disappearing (some taken away for their own safety). and even more newcomers you may not know or trust. There has been an influx of young people into the Twos (the second floor of our three-story wing) and the consensus is that there are a few bad apples there.
The prison appears to have taken in a number of younger prisoners, some of whom frankly look like they are in their mid-teens, although they must be older – maybe 18, 19, 20. As you might expect, there is a category of young adult prisoners for whom exemptions are available made: It is not uncommon for them to be given individual cells or housed among each other. Officially they are considered more vulnerable than older adults, but the irony is that, especially when it comes to a group, they are much more prone to violence and ultra-violence at that. Think of Alex and his droogs A Clockwork Orange.
We are afraid of them. We call them Y.Os because they are deeply rooted in the culture of juvenile detention centers such as Feltham or youth street gangs, often both. As any psychologist will explain, the adolescent brain is less risk-averse and more impulsive. Some of these kids go to great lengths to create a weapon, such as melting the blades of our flimsy Bic razors into toothbrush handles to make a pocket slasher.
Us old slackers just want to have a relaxing time indoors. But the youngsters want respect, fame and the thrill of the hunt. They think it's a movie. They play very loud gangsta rap (speakers and music systems can be ordered in the catalog), and the phrase I heard pounding through my foam earplugs was “Gonna Make Ya Leak” – gangsta means bleeding.
And it is said that there are also so-called “shanks” on the piano, large metal blades. You may be wondering how it is possible to make a metal weapon in a prison, but it seems very simple. The beds are made of metal. The flat metal strips that support the mattresses can be subjected to repeated stress until they break. They are then folded back and forth at an angle and sheared into two parts, creating a pair of so-called legs. They can be sharpened against each other like carving knives.
Whenever a prisoner leaves a cell before a new one arrives to replace him, a thorough inspection and associated paperwork must be carried out. One reason for this is that a prisoner who destroys his cell can be prosecuted and held accountable. However, because prisoner turnover is high, a cell rarely houses the exact same two inmates for more than a few weeks, making it very difficult for officials to keep up with this type of paperwork. Checks are often not carried out. You can pull a stripe from your bed without much chance of being caught and held accountable, and the incriminating things – phones, flicks, pranks, even drugs – are usually done by lower status inmates who give them owed a favor, “withheld” until requested . The larger fish thereby minimize the risk of being caught in the act.
Three different witnesses, all prisoners, told me that a serious attack occurred last month. It took place during mealtime, when cells remained empty while prisoners lined up to collect food from the distribution. All prisoners come down the stairs to the exit so that they can lie in wait for a passerby. The alleged attackers, two young black boys wearing “do lumps” (black head coverings favored by, but by no means limited to, black and/or Asian Muslims), dragged their victim, also young and black, into a cell in the first floor – It is important that this is not the cell of the victim or his attackers.
It felt very close: it was the cell opposite the one I share with my current roommate. Once you are in a cell, you can only be seen by someone walking past your door. When my padmate heard the commotion, he happened to look inside. The victim, who was restrained on the bottom bunk, was repeatedly stabbed in the stomach with a metal blade in what my padmate described as “attempted murder all day long.”
This attack wasn't a punishment: if you're in debt, they'll hit you, but the goal is to make you pay, not to get you killed. My more experienced inmates described this more as a “zip code” vendetta related to outside gangs. The kids here seem ready to kill someone from a rival settlement. One cannot blame the prison authorities for not knowing about every beef imported from outside.
I didn't see the attack – I was just getting my dinner – but I did see the bucket used to clean up the mess, the contents of which were noticeably red. The victim was taken to hospital. We don't yet know if he survived; Would they even tell us? If the victim survived, he or she will suffer life-changing injuries.
What was most disturbing was the way it was handled. A prison officer was close enough to know something was going on. Apparently there was no great doubt about who the two perpetrators were. Yet they are still on our trail – one would expect them to be living in solitary confinement in the Segregation Wing. It is unclear whether any formal charges have been filed against her. Again, if there were cameras on the wing they definitely could have been identified, and I'm still amazed that there aren't any. A prison wing without cameras is like an airport without air traffic control.
What was most surprising was that a week later I asked the SO (Senior Wing Officer) about the aftermath of the attack. She denied any knowledge of the incident. For myself, I have submitted a request to return to the safer “Enhanced Spur”. I want less gangsta rap and less leaks.
Next week the Secret Prisoner writes about how he was hauled before the Prisoner Governor himself
Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 3 months with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, savings and more.
