by Lee, Jane
The Indian girl was spending her £100 a week in canteen but saw none of the goodies. I asked her what was going on. She told me a Colombian drug baron, who was doing 25 years and so wasn’t eligible for as much canteen as those on remand, was giving her money and the goods were all going back to her.
‘What do you get out of the deal?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘Tell the Colombian you are not doing it any longer,’ I said.
‘No way. I’m terrified of her, Jane,’ my pal said and showed me a threatening letter from the drug baron. ‘She’s very powerful. This isn’t your normal drug dealer. She is in here for a couple of tons of coke.’
Well, I wasn’t amused. ‘I’ll sort it,’ I said. ‘I don’t care who she is out there in the world because in here she is an inmate like you and me and I am not having her frightening me and mine.’
I took my mate to the bullying baron and told her she had taken the piss long enough and that now it was over. The baron looked at my mate and told her she would do as she was told or she knew what would happen. I could see I was not getting through to this bitch so I grabbed her by the throat and, when she opened her mouth, I stuck the threatening letter in it. ‘You lay one finger on her or her family outside and I give you my word of honour you won’t ever leave this prison alive,’ I told her. ‘Now apologise to her or I’ll kill you now.’
The bully totally changed her tune and apologised. In fact, she started trying to kiss and cuddle her victim. My mate had a heart of gold, poor girl, and that is what bullies thrive on. Every Sunday my mate’s religious leader from her community brought her homemade Indian food. From that day on she shared it with me and her new friends. And believe me, it was the best Indian food I have ever tasted.
My dad was still visiting me every day without fail and John came with him sometimes. John was making me so proud and he never complained. He was doing really well. He was always with Shell’s boys Darren, Kevin and Dean. I missed him so much but a big part of me didn’t want him to see me in that situation. He was only 12 and prison wasn’t the place for kids. I talked to him on the phone every day anyway.
Then came the day when Dad was late and I immediately got worried because his visits ticked by like clockwork. He had been a rock for me. I waited until the end of visiting time and he still hadn’t shown up so I rang home and got my mum. I could hardly believe my ears. ‘Your dad has been in tears here, girl,’ Mum said. ‘He turned up as normal but was told you had refused his visit. What were you playing at?’
‘I wouldn’t do that, Mum,’ I told her. ‘The screws told me he didn’t turn up.’
Then the penny dropped. A nasty screw had told Dad I didn’t want to see him that day and told me he hadn’t turned up. A despicable, outright lie. I’d been done. And what this screw had done was well below the belt. If she had a problem with me, she should have come to me and not used my dad. The moment I found out, I just lost the plot. I let the phone drop, ran into the screws’ office and dived on the first officer I could find and started punching her. Of course, the heavy mob were called and they gave me a pasting but I got a few of them first. They weren’t even the ones who had lied to my dad but at that moment they were all the same to me – scum.
I was back down the block for a week again and I swear, if I’d got hold of the screw who upset my dad, I would have killed her but I never did get to know who it was. The next time Dad came I apologised to him for what had happened, even though it wasn’t my fault. But he didn’t look right and, when I asked him what the matter was, he said he thought he might have had a stroke the night before. And I could see his face looked different – a little bit one-sided. I couldn’t believe he had come to see me and not gone to the hospital first.
‘Get to the hospital now, Dad,’ I said. ‘Just go.’
‘But I couldn’t miss your visit, girl,’ he said.
I packed him off straight away. I had never before cried when I was in prison. Police, bullets, Cat A and wars with villains on the outside had never made me cry either but that day the tears were running down my face. My dad was right. He’d had a stroke and was in hospital for three weeks but he had battled to Holloway from the East End to be there for me. I thought that said everything I needed to know about my dad. Tough, loyal and full of love for me and his family. I love you so much, Dad.
My latest brush with the heavy mob led to me being moved into another dorm after I’d done my time in the block. The first minute I was in there I realised it was a Yardie dorm. There were four Jamaican gangsters in there – and me. They were proper Yardies, from Kingston, Jamaica. They were not amused that a whitey had been put in with them. And I can’t blame them, to be honest, because they are very private people and, as far as they were concerned, I was invading their space. But there was nothing I could do about it when the screws were clearly having a good laugh at my expense. They put me there deliberately.
I could see the Yardies had got the hump but I still politely said, ‘Hello.’ They blanked me so I went straight to my bunk. Then their leader, Big Momma, sucked her teeth at me and I thought, ‘Here we go.’ As I was unpacking, they talked to themselves in patois – Yardie language – so that I couldn’t understand them. In the end, nothing happened right then but there was a frosty atmosphere for a few days until I dropped something on the floor. It made a bit of noise and it was the opportunity Big Momma had been waiting for.
‘Why you make dat noise and ting, bitch?’ she said and started sucking her teeth. Well, my attitude was that it was fine not to talk but I wasn’t going to let them bully me. It was time for them to meet the Gran. I jumped up and walked over.
‘I’ll fucking kill the lot of yous,’ I said, looking straight at Big Momma. ‘Let’s fucking have it. If today’s the day I die, it’s a good day to die.’
That rocked her. To my amazement, she did something totally unexpected. ‘Me sorry, sister. Me don’t mean nuttin’,’ she said.
I told her I hadn’t done her any harm and didn’t want to and from then on we all became good friends. In fact, I really got to like them. And they started teaching me a few Yardie phrases. Even so, I used to tie a pen in my hair for protection, which was just as well because I needed it when I had a run-in with the very top Yardie. She was another Big Momma – I’ll call her Big Momma 2, to avoid confusion.
Big Momma and Big Momma 2 were co-defendants charged with smuggling coke. Now Big Momma 2 was not big at all. She was tiny but they called her Big Momma because she was the very top Yardie. She wasn’t happy that I’d offered her mate out and it was something she had to be seen to be doing something about. She had a reputation to keep.
Big Momma 2’s crew did everything for her, fetching and carrying all the time. The only thing they couldn’t do was get her food for her at meal times because it was prison rules that everyone had to get their own. So what she used to do was push in the queue and everyone would let her do it, even though she was small. Nobody wanted to deal with the rest of them. It didn’t bother me until the day she brushed me aside when I was right at the front. She just gave me this cold look as if to say, ‘Out of the way, Whitey.’ Well, as you will know well by now, I wouldn’t have that. Not at all. I grabbed the plate off the kitchen worker who was dishing up the food and smashed it over Big Momma 2’s head. Then I grabbed her around the neck and pulled the pen from my hair and held it to her neck, gouging it in so she knew I wasn’t messing about. Big Momma 1 just stood back because she knew me well enough by now to know I would use the pen.
‘Stay the fuck back,’ I said to all the Yardie crew, ‘or she’s getting it in the neck. It’s a fucking good day to die,’ I whispered in the ear of Big Momma 2. ‘But if I go, you are coming with me.’
Someone shouted out from the crowd, ‘You’re a dead woman.’ But I ignored that and gave my attention entirely to Big Momma 2.
‘I’m game if you are, babe. You started this by pushing in and I am not having that,’ I said. ‘I
am no better nor any worse than you so I’m not standing for it. I’ll die defending my self-respect because it means a lot to me. The ball’s in your court.’
While this was going on, the inmates were blocking off the screws who were trying to get to us. Then Big Momma 2 spoke for the first time. ‘Leave the armed robber alone, girls,’ she ordered her crew. ‘We haven’t got no problem. The armed robber, she’s OK.’
I gradually relaxed my grip on her to see if she was going to keep her word.
‘They have been telling me about you, girl,’ she said. She didn’t look rattled at all. She was as calm as you like for someone who nearly had a pen through their jugular. ‘You got some balls on you. Glad to make your acquaintance.’
‘You aren’t lacking in that department yourself, are you?’ I said.
‘Respect,’ she said.
The screws were asking everyone what all the kerfuffle was about but everything was sweet. In fact, putting me in with the Yardies had backfired big time on the screws because now we were all pals. So what did the screws do? Moved me out of the Yardies’ dorm and back in with my old pals.
I was losing track of time but I must have been in for about four or five months by then and my case was starting to look good. I still had serious charges hanging over me but it was beginning to look like the police knew they shouldn’t have shot me. Gary told me I was almost certain to get bail, as the cops knew their evidence wouldn’t stand up in court against the rock-solid forensic report, so he told me we were going to go for bail on 11 May – just as the Ouija board had said.
Finding £10,000 bail wasn’t a problem but getting someone to stand up for me who was of good character and didn’t have convictions was slightly trickier. A rich mate whose family ran a haulage firm got her mum to speak for me when I appeared at Snaresbrook crown court. I’d never met the mum before and, when I got to court, I didn’t connect her with a woman I saw who was not sitting with my family. This woman was on her own, suited and booted and, to be honest, I thought she was someone from the court. She kept waving and smiling at me and I thought she was trying to make me look dodgy so I gave her a dirty look and that soon made her stop. Then one of the court officials asked who was putting up bail and she stood up. She told the court she was my aunt and that I had lived with her for most of my youth and that she was willing to put up bail. I felt like a right fool. I wished someone had told me what was going on. I had to agree to stay at her house and I was then returned to Holloway to wait for the bail money to be transferred.
My dad was waiting for me later that day with my rich mate and we went home, where John was waiting. We all cried buckets. But they were tears of happiness. I was so proud of John. It didn’t matter what had happened, he never complained. He was just so happy that we were back together as a family. As for me, I had been locked up for six months and I felt so happy to be out. I had to be at home with John and I broke my bail conditions straight away by not staying at the house of the lady who appeared in court on my behalf. I wanted to get back to normal life and felt it was only a small risk to take.
I was at home a couple of weeks when I saw the middle-man who had passed on the dodgy speed from those so-called gangsters all those months earlier. He invited me to a party. John was staying with a mate so I agreed. But it all went wrong when some blokes at the party started fighting. All of a sudden it was the last place I wanted to be while out on bail. People were going nutty and someone got stabbed and I knew had to get out of there. The law was on its way. I could even hear the sirens as I legged it down the stairs. I walked out of the front door and there were police everywhere. I calmed down, took a deep breath and walked off, minding my own business. I got stopped by an officer. ‘Have you just left that party?’ he asked.
‘What party, officer?’ I replied. ‘I’m just on my way to work.’
He told me to be on my way and, even though I didn’t have a clue where I was, I just kept walking until I came to a train station. It was 4.30am. I went to sleep on a bench and waited for the 6am train. It was 8am before I got home. I’d had a narrow escape. If they had caught me in breach of my bail conditions, I would have back inside immediately. What an idiot I had been but I had also been lucky – again.
I liked to think I had learned my lesson. I knew my trial was coming up and I kept out of trouble. I couldn’t let my boy and my dad down again. I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I didn’t say I was worried. Don’t get me wrong. I knew I could do the time but this was all about John. I had to be there for him and knew that more than ever now. My trial was at Snaresbrook crown court, where Gary told me the police wanted to do a deal because they were worried about any comeback over my shooting. An investigation by the Police Complaints Commission had taken place into the incident, he said, and the police were not looking as if they came out of it too well. It looked as if the officer had panicked when he opened fire because I had not fired a shot and there was no evidence to show I had been trying to run anyone over either. Also, the fact that all the bullets had hit me from behind didn’t look good for them. They couldn’t even do me for the guns, as they were legal and Gary had already proved the black powder in the bullets was legal firework powder. It was a clause in the law. It all added up to one thing. The police wanted to do a deal.
‘They want you to plead guilty to attempted robbery and dangerous driving and to possession of a Class B drug – that’s the speed – in exchange for them dropping the attempted murder charges,’ Gary explained. ‘If you agree, you will walk out of this court a free woman. The judge will take into consideration the time you have done on remand and the fact that you were shot four times as punishment enough. But if you don’t take the deal, they have told me the original attempted murder charges will stand and, if you are found guilty, you will be looking at double figures and could serve at least ten years in prison.’
I asked Gary what he thought and he told me it was up to me. I knew I should get a ‘not guilty’ because the cops had told too many lies but, at the end of the day, it was up to the jury and, if I got a jury who were all for the police, I would be fucked.
I thought about it. I thought about the Greek girl who was innocent and got 11 years. I didn’t try to kill the police and they knew it but I did do the robbery. If I won a trial, I would end up a rich woman because I would be free to go for compensation for being shot. But if I didn’t, I would be leaving John out in the world all alone for a very long time. It didn’t take more thinking. No amount of money was worth the risk of leaving my son. I took the deal.
The judge took into consideration my wounds and I got a two-year sentence, suspended for two years, and a three-year driving ban. I walked out of that court a free woman with my head held high. My guns were confiscated and put in the police museum. That gave me the hump. The police asked the judge if the attempted-murder and firearms charges could be left on file and he agreed. I didn’t take much notice of that, not realising that it meant I was on the police computer as having tried to murder two officers. Every time they looked me up, even if it was just for a parking ticket, I would come up as armed and dangerous and public enemy No 1. All I cared about that day was walking free. And walk free I did.
When I got home, I was told I had to go to Ilford police station to collect all the legitimate guns and rifles the police had taken from my home in black bags the night I was shot. In all, they had about five bags of my belongings. A friend went with me and, when we got there, we were taken into a room, where my stuff was and the officer in charge had five sheets of paper with everything listed on it. He started going through the bags one by one and had ticked off about five of the items after searching through the bags when he said, ‘Jane, it’s all here but it’s going to take all day to go through this lot. Just sign here and you can take the lot.’
‘OK,’ I said and signed. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
‘I hope yous ain’t going to shoot me again,’ I joked with him.
‘Don’t worry, J
ane, no one’s going to shoot you,’ he said and we left for home. We went through the bags and found the Billy was still with the rest of my belongings, nicely sealed in two forensic-evidence bags. Rather than destroying it, they had mistakenly left it with the rest of my belongings. Me and my mate couldn’t believe it.
‘What idiots,’ I said. We couldn’t stop laughing.
It was only a small amount of Billy – a couple of ounces – but I was back in business. You must think I was mad going straight back into crime but all my money was gone now because I had been inside for six months. I had to survive and, anyway, I said to my mate, if I ever got nicked for selling Billy and they asked me who supplied me, I could tell them it was the police. And I had the forensic bags to prove it.
There were people saying that, after what I’d been through, I would never pick up a gun again. How wrong they were. The low-life scum who had set me up to be shot were now my top priority.
10
FREEDOM
I was still ducking and diving for a living but it wasn’t easy.
I had been out a few months and things were returning to normal. Well, normal in my world. Matt was over the moon. We still weren’t together but I still loved him with all my heart. The lover I once knew had now become my soul mate. It was a bond which would last a lifetime and I was prepared to die for him.
He had been there for me through it all. He had even taken a bullet because of me. He never said why he got shot when I was in hospital but I knew it must have been because he had gone after the grasses that were responsible for me ending up in prison. All he had told me about it was that he had come out of a house and somebody had been hiding in the bushes and shot him. Matt never saw their faces but he was certain it was the grasses and now they were living in fear and had gone into hiding.
