‘Well, a child was supposedly kidnapped. I was accused of telling the child’s mother that unless her brother changed his evidence the child would be killed.’
‘Was the child kidnapped?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did the uncle change his evidence?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know why he changed his evidence?’
‘No.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think there were two options. Either there was a kidnap and the guy was got at and changed his evidence and the police got him to say that I told him what to say in the first place or it was some scam to get me by the police and there was no kidnap.’
‘What about co-conspirators?’
‘They were my clients according to the police.’
‘So they were charged with conspiracy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Convicted?’
‘Yes.’
‘All of them?’
‘No. One of them got off.’
‘Why?’
‘He gave evidence against me and the police claimed he worked with them. He was found guilty but got a suspended sentence.’
‘Sources of evidence?’
‘There were three; all had convictions and all were said to have talked to the people I was acting for and had been given information by the accused.’
‘There must have been an enquiry into this when you used it as your defence.’
‘Oh, there was and the police came out whiter than white.’
‘Why do you think that was the case?’
‘I was a pain and I had been eliminated; if anything had been found against the police officers they would be in here and I would still be a pain out there.’
I believed him. On a number of occasions I had rock solid evidence and then one of the prosecution witnesses became flaky and the case started to slip away and some of the solicitors and occasionally barristers were kind of dodgy, but you’d never be able to prove it.
‘Were there any other things you were accused of?’
‘Yes, they said I had hacked into a computer and stole information.’
‘Do you have those skills?’
He looked at the floor.
‘Problem?’
‘Yes, I’ve those skills, but I said I didn’t and the police witness showed in court that I did.’
‘So, you didn’t tell the truth under oath?’
‘Yes, I didn’t tell the truth.’
‘I can understand why, but you must have known that to be found out would guarantee your conviction.’
‘Yes, I was stupid.’
‘Let me now see if I can help.’
‘Thank you, Jake.’ He looked so pleased I thought he was going to cry.
‘Tell me what you see as the problem.’
‘Well, I can’t get anyone to believe me.’
‘So you believe you’re not believable?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose that’s the basis really.’
‘Why aren’t you believed?’
‘Well, because I was found guilty.’
‘And?’
‘And I lied under oath.’
I had met this so often: people who don’t tell the truth because they think it will go against them, so they lie and then it definitely does go against them.
‘You can’t change that.’
‘No, but that’s what I want to change.’
So, Mo was caught in an emotional bind and he thought it was about him as a person. Let’s make things concrete.
‘So, what is it you want to achieve?’
‘To be believed.’
‘To achieve what?’
‘Get released?’
‘So, your goal is to get released, and what will you need to achieve that?’
‘Be believed.’
‘And what rock solid thing will mean that people will believe you?’
‘Get evidence, I suppose.’
Great, he got there.
‘And what have you done so far to do that?’
‘Nothing really.’
‘Tell me about “nothing really”.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you know the names of the people who gave evidence against you?’
‘Yes.’
‘What else?’
‘I know the evidence they gave.’
‘What else do you know?’
‘I know the names of the police involved.’
‘So, I’m hearing you’ve a load of information that we’ve just scratched the surface of. We know that’s part of an evidence chain and that you’ve much more information towards your goal of being released. I’ll give you one simple piece of advice at this stage; stick to that goal. Don’t go for any revenge goals such as having police charged or other stuff. Stay clean and focussed. And forget about trying to be believed; belief is an emotional thing, facts that can be verified and chains of evidence are the only way out of your problem.’
He nodded; he understood. I saw a spark of clarity that revenge would just get in the way of his goal.
‘So, what else have you done so far towards your goal?’
‘Nothing really.’
‘Nothing really?’
‘Well, I’ve talked to some people.’
‘For what purpose?’
He sat and looked at me. He was thinking; he shook his head. He’d understood something. ‘I wanted them to believe me.’ He stopped and thought about what he had said. ‘I need a plan, don’t I?’
‘Yes. You need a plan to take you to your goal. A plan that uses the resources you have. And what are the resources you have?’
‘I’ve information but I need more and I’ve people who will help me.’
‘Who?’
‘My family, friends, some colleagues.’
‘What else?’
Again, he just looked at me. He shook his head.
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’ He thought for a moment. ‘I’m a lawyer, I know the law, so I know what information I need and I know who can get some of that, and…’ Again he just sat and looked at me.
‘And?’ I queried.
‘I need a plan.’ He was nodding. ‘I have a clear goal so I need a plan to get there.’
Good, he knew what he wanted to achieve and he knew he needed a plan to achieve it and he knew he’d the resources available to him and I hoped he realised that his negative emotions had been getting in the way of achieving that.
‘And the outcome of the plan will be what?’
‘Getting out of here.’
‘Tell me about a plan.’
‘Well, I need a goal and I’ve got that. I need to specify what I have to do by when.’
‘You doing that?’
‘Ah, yes, and I need other people to do things, so I have to find those people and what they have to do by when.’
‘So what is the main thing you are doing at this stage?’
‘I suppose it is gathering information.’
‘What information?’
‘Who was doing what by when? So that tells me I have to have researchers and, yes, like detectives. What the results of that are? Structure it and that will tell me the action points. And the order of those action points and who will do them.’
‘As soon as you move into action what will happen?’
‘They will know and they will counter attack.’
‘Who are they?’
‘The police and the people who support them.’
‘So what will you need?’
‘A better attacking force.’
‘Who will your force attack?’
‘Ah, yes. I need to identify my enemies.’
‘And I need a cup of tea.’
‘Thank you, Jake.’ He laughed. ‘Your guys were right; you do have a clear way of looking at things. I’ll get released and I’ll repay you for this half hour. I’m sure you’ve saved my life. Thank you.’
&nb
sp; I thought that was a bit over the top but there you go.
He got up and shook my hand then headed out the door with his head high and his shoulders square; he knew he had something to do and he had a massive amount of drive to do it. Harry was looking at me.
‘Well?’ I asked.
‘You’re just something else, Captain. I’ll put the kettle on.’
37
‘Hello, Micky.’ I didn’t really know Micky, I’d just seen him around. He was clearly in emotional pain. Should I ignore it or ask him? Well, he was sitting in my classroom, so I suppose he wanted to talk to me. Oh, shit.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I was talking to Mo and he said you could help.’
‘With what?’
‘It’s my wife.’
‘What’s “It’s my wife”?’
‘She’s having a baby.’
Now I knew he was in trouble. I’d have to take care what I said next; he had been in here for at least three years.
‘Tell me.’
‘It’s due, well, soon.’
‘Can you get compassionate leave so you can be with her?’
‘It’s not mine for fuck’s sake.’
I knew I would have to be careful and I’d cocked up already.
‘Tell me more.’
‘Like what?’
‘Do you love her?’ I can ask some really daft questions sometimes.
‘Yes, I fucking love her.’
‘Does she love you?’
‘I s’pose. She says she does.’ He was now looking down with his shoulders hunched, looking at his clenched hands in his lap. ‘She writes to me, she visits me, she makes DVDs and sends them.’
‘What’s on the DVDs?’
‘Well, the kids and stuff.’
‘Do you write to her and talk when she’s visiting?’
‘I don’t write; I’m not good at writing. I see her at visiting but I don’t know what to say. She tells me about her work and the garden and the kids and my mum.’
‘So you have other kids?’
‘Two of them: Sue and Gill?’
‘That’s good.’
‘Before you ask they’re mine and, yes, I know they are.’
‘That’s good then.’ I didn’t know what he wanted from me, perhaps just to talk to somebody. ‘She loves you.’
‘Yes, I said so, didn’t I? She says she does.’ He was angry and hurt and I wasn’t handling this very well.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think she loves me.’ I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He wanted this woman despite her having somebody else’s baby. It was the uncertainty that was tearing him apart and the pain he was feeling, perhaps the disloyalty, maybe the affront to his manhood – all of that shit.
‘Micky, look at me.’ He raised his misery torn face. ‘Why do you think that?’
He went quiet and was thinking. He wasn’t quite crying but he was on the verge. He looked down again.
‘Well, she writes and stuff. I think… I think she can, can’t she? She… Well, you know.’ That didn’t make any sense to me; the emotion was creating confusion.
‘Micky, look at me.’ He looked up. ‘Micky, I don’t know. Please tell me.’
‘She was screwing with this, this arsehole.’ There was bitterness in his voice.
‘You know him then?’
‘Yes, I fucking know him.’ There was contempt in Micky’s voice now.
‘And?’
‘He is a real snidey creep.’ The anger and hate was clear. ‘The bastard’s done this before when a guy gets banged up; you know, he goes round all sympathetic and helpful, and all that shit. Helps with the social security and stuff like the computer, you know, getting stuff online, and fixes things what are busted and then he shags them.’
‘Micky, why are you telling me?’
‘Cos I want to know what to do.’
‘Do about what?’
‘This shit bag, that’s what.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘I want to kill him.’
‘And if you do, what then?’
He was thinking about it and his head dropped again. ‘I end up back in here.’
‘Is that a good idea then?’
‘No, it ain’t.’
‘What about the baby?’
‘She wants to keep it.’
‘Why?’
His head came up and he glowered at me. ‘I don’t fucking know. I asked her to have an abortion and she said she couldn’t kill a baby and now she doesn’t want to have it adopted.’
‘Okay, so let me see what we have here. Your wife wants you back because she loves you. You love her and you have two kids who need a dad and a mum. Your wife has another one, so you’ll have three kids and nobody need know the baby isn’t yours. Is that the situation?’
‘Sort of, but I want to get the greasy shit.’
‘What about your mates?’
‘I would have to tell them.’
‘And you don’t want to?’
‘No, well I can’t, can I?’ Logic was making a breakthrough. This was a proud man and he was feeling responsible for what his wife had done. I could relate to his pain.
‘So when do you get out?’
‘In a couple of years.’
‘Let me see. You can sit in here and be miserable and depressed or you can make the best of it. The other options are to take action against this guy in a couple of years or get your mates to take action now. The problem with that is you could end up back in here or your mates can and you get extra time as an accessory.’
‘What would you do?’
‘I’m different from you so what I would do is irrelevant, but if I were you I would talk to my wife and work something out so that the pair of you can get on with your lives. You, your wife, your kids and your mum are the important ones here.’
‘I s’pose.’ He was nodding. He seemed to be more balanced. ‘Can I come and talk to you again?’
‘Only after you’ve talked to your wife and found out what she wants.’
‘Okay, Captain, I’ll do that.’ He left. I wasn’t sure I’d done any good but then again, I wasn’t an agony aunt.
38
My second visit was approaching and I was having difficulty in suppressing my excitement. There’d been a leak somewhere along the chain of command and prisoners were trying to get their visiting day changed so they could see Sam. Crazy things happen in prison. The rumours of her beauty were rife if a bit over the top. I just wondered what the partners of the prisoners would think when they saw the reaction of their beloved ones. Then I got a message that turned everything upside-down; somebody was coming with her. The other odd thing that happened was that prisoners, most of whom I’d had no contact with, were sitting or standing close to me. It was most odd. It was almost as if I had some magic dust that would brush off onto them just because I had a beautiful girlfriend. I recognised they wanted to share in seeing Sam as if being close to me might result in that miracle. I supposed that sexual deprivation is a massive problem in prisons and undoubtedly, led to homosexual behaviours and that was destructive for all concerned. The thing that was clear to me was the extreme level of homophobia in this prison despite the high level of homosexual behaviour between heterosexuals. Clearly, what was happening because of Sam’s suggested beauty was the creating of a psychosexual imbalance that I suppose was different for each prisoner.
The day came and both Bennie and I went down to the visitors’ suite (the word ‘suite’ was a strange word to use for this bare, austere, over-videoed room). Bennie was at the table to the right of mine. I knew he’d fixed this but I didn’t know why or how; I suppose Family men could just fix things. I sat watching the door. The tension was tangible. I was sure that if I closed my hands in this room I would catch a handful of tension and I knew it would be like being hit with an electrical charge. I could feel every nerve in my body stretching and tingling with that tension. Then the door o
pened and the tension shifted to expectation mixed with concern, a concern that the expectation wouldn’t be realised. This to me was the real dehumanisation of prison, the ripping asunder of our innermost emotions. And they came in like a chain gang of people seeking that which they longed for: the person that had meaning in their lives.
I saw Micky with, I assumed, his wife. She was at least eight months pregnant and had a girl of about six or seven with her. She clearly adored him. You could see it in every look and every move. She flicked her hair and slowly stroked her neck while maintaining eye contact and she was quite oblivious to the fact she was doing it. He was talking to her and she placed her elbows on the table, then one hand on top of the other, her chin on her hands and her face directly to him. She was listening and admiring him. He was admiring her.
I looked back at the door. Sam hadn’t come. I was so tense I thought my very blood would boil. Control, Jake, control; don’t let the emotion explode. And then she was there and I wanted to cry. I could feel the tears and I fought them back. My throat contracted and my mouth went dry. Sam was there. She was a goddess of beauty; she moved like silk across a round polished beam: smooth, shimmering, undulating flawless perfection in motion. I saw nothing but Sam, tunnel vision; there was only Sam, my Sam, and she was looking at me and she was smiling and I was hit by a range of different emotions at once: relief, love, joy, exultancy, pride. I thought my chest would burst and my head was spinning.
I loathed my job and I hated those that had helped me to get into this hellhole. I despised myself for coming here and being damaged, for it was then that I knew I was damaged and I knew unless I controlled it I would drift into a place that I didn’t want to be. And now the light of my life was walking towards me and I knew all eyes were on her and all those men wanted her and I knew she was mine and I would kill to keep her.
It was then that I saw the woman with Sam and I returned to the real world and really saw her for the first time. I’d never met the woman with her; she was smart and attractive. She had fine, dark-brown hair brushed straight back from her high forehead, falling almost to her shoulders with a slight inward curl at the ends. She had pale skin with an ivory sheen at her high cheekbones and a gentle, natural, pink blush on her cheeks. Her eyes were deepest green, a startling colour, wide apart and lightly made-up with a faint blue. Her nose was straight, perhaps slightly long for a fashion model, but she’d a mouth most girls would pine for and most men would want to kiss. It was broad with full lips, finely etched and using exactly the right colour lipstick for her skin tone. Her chin detracted slightly from the near perfection of the rest of her face, being a little sharp. She moved smoothly, following Sam. She knew how to walk; it was the sort of walk taught in ballet schools and clearly she was fit and looked it, with her high bust and tight backside that was firm and rounded. Yes, she had what might be called a faultless, athletic body.
Staying Alive Page 19
