Samworth - Strangeways

3. Bitter Sweet Symphony

You may think there is no alcohol in prison, in which case youd be wrong. All you need is sugar, water and fruit. Once it ferments, fill your boots. Cons are smart. Theyll use Ovaltine powder because its got yeast in. A prisoner has twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week to play games with you. If there is hooch on a wing and they know cell searches are coming, they might hide it in a bin on the landing. There is never enough staff to detect everything.

I was locking up once at Forest Bank on F Wing and got a whiff of that distinctive sweet stink. It was the usual tale at banging-up time, lads fannying about getting tobacco known inside as burn milk or coffee, and one kid tipped me off, Best go up there, Mr S. Some lads in a tangle.

The closer I got the worse the sickly whiff grew rancid oranges, mainly. Not only that, there was a smell of vomit. I looked in: there were four of them a dad, his son, an uncle and their mate, every last one unconscious, and the stench was nasty. The prisoners were going behind their doors then anyway, and a call went out for medical staff and an ambulance. The son, dad and uncle went off in that while the friend was shipped to healthcare. Although sparko, they had to be cuffed to officers. One of the older pair died of alcoholic poisoning.

At the inquest it was revealed that between them theyd drunk about twenty-three litres of hooch. And when tested, it was between 21 and 23 per cent proof. I got questioned: How did you not see it? The new lad Id been on shift with sat in the office all day terrified. He was about nineteen, and prison officer is not a job for a nineteen-year-old. The private sector is all about bums on seats.

One lad in seg, John Dand, an ex-young offender, was on remand for murder. Hed gone on a revenge mission with a gun and shot someone dead at a party, case of mistaken identity as it turned out. At this point in his prison career he was about twenty-two years old and had already carved quite a reputation. Now hed been found in the prison yard, out of his head on hooch.

Wed carted him to the seg, hed fought back, and hadnt been in long when he blacked out and began spewing. Segregation and healthcare had adjoining doors, so we took him to an observation cell in there. Around teatime, a nurse manager phoned to ask if we could take him back as he was coming around.

So off we went and there he was, hung over and booting fuck out of the door. There were four of us plus the duty Oscar One, who said, Right lads, you can either get kitted up or we can treat this as spontaneous. Getting kitted up can be a ball-ache: overalls, gloves, helmets, boots, pads... so we decided to go in and, being a big daft Yorkshire twat, I went first, rugby tackling him to the floor. Normally prisoners comply once restrained. Not this fucker. Hed have none of it, spitting, swearing... taking huge swings that thankfully missed. We got him to his feet, cuffed him, but still had to take him to the floor a few times as we hauled him out of healthcare.

Fucking hell, Dandy, I said. Give it a rest. Behave.

He kicked his legs out, trying to trip us up, butting his head. This one time he went down the Oscar tapped his head with the side of his boot, barely a touch. He was still squirming, though, so we had to manhandle him. With a non-compliant prisoner, thats a dangerous thing to do, as you are either lugging a dead weight or can be ragged all over. They teach you to be careful. And you carry them on their back. I took one arm, another guy cradled his head, my SO had the other arm and two lads wrapped his legs. Still creating, he spat right in my face, so I wiped it off with one hand and put the other over his mouth so he wouldnt be trying that again. It was a revolting thing to do.

This relocation, through a couple of gates and over fifty metres, took a good twenty-five minutes. You get out of breath. As he was non-compliant, once we got him back to seg we put him in the special cell bare, nothing in it. Theres a couple of observation points in the ceiling, where you can go up some steps and keep an eye on them every five minutes or so, to make sure theyre all right.

So weve carried this joker into the cell on his back, me on his left arm. At this point no other staff should enter. We were going to strip search him, as decently as we could, to be sure hed no weapons to harm himself or anyone else with. The plan was to leave him with a blanket, boxers, socks, maybe a T-shirt. One lad went out, leaving four of us in there, not counting the prisoner who was now on his front, arms cuffed behind him.

At which point, the SO turned this lads head to the side and banged him one, right on the nose. Why he did that, I dont know. Dand had calmed down a bit, but his hooter was split now, claret all over the shop. The rest of us looked at each other in disbelief What the fuck has he done that for? while our hooch-supping friend rallied in strength, calling us dirty bastards.

Somehow we managed to follow the strip search routine and eventually left the cell. As usual, there was a nurse on hand to check the prisoner was uninjured or record any cuts and bruises, and on this occasion also a healthcare manager. Neither could fail to notice fresh blood that wasnt on his face when we wrestled him in. This manager gave us a knowing look and returned from where she came.

Within half an hour, the Oscar One was walked off the premises pending investigation, accused of kicking a prisoner in the head. And whats more, the prisoner wanted to phone his solicitor citing assault. The duty manager came and got the lad out on the landing, where the three of us, including the SO whod twatted him, stood waiting.

You fucking bastard, Samworth, said Dand, pointing right at me. You punched me in the face.

I looked him in the eye. Are you sure it were me?

He looked at the other officer there and said, Well, you fucking did it then, as the duty manager glared, fit to explode.

It didnt look good, although for a while all went quiet. The SO who had cracked him likely thought it would be all right. For five days, not a word was spoken. Only the Oscar One was suspended.

Here was a quandary every officer faces, but shouldnt. I knew Id have to put a statement in saying what happened and that it had to be honest. But if I tell them my SO punched a con, Im a grass. Colleagues wont speak to me; Ill lose my job. Ethics and integrity can go by the wayside. My mind was in a whirl. Common sense said, Shut the fuck up, Sam. Its a team game this and youre in the front row. Head down, arse up. Pack tight. But my gut instinct just wasnt having it. I kept coming back to the fact that there was no need for what happened being a prison officer is not a licence to punch the fuck out of people. Its wrong and behaviour like that disrespects and endangers your colleagues, so wheres the team spirit there? Maybe if this SO had just apologized for losing his rag it would have blown over. Prisoners being what they are, if hed said, Look, lad, youve fucked us about, Dand might well have taken that. But hed kept schtum and it was now a dodgy situation.

Eventually, a more experienced member of staff told me that he knew what had happened. All Ill say, he said, is tell the truth. Then he added that if I mentioned our conversation to anyone hed deny it. I like to think Id have done the right thing anyway but the fact is I didnt want stitching up, so felt I had nowhere left to go.

The minute I put my version in, I was suspended as per protocol. In fact, all five of us in the restraint were ordered to stay off work.

In private prisons, whenever there is what management called an adverse event a mobile phone is found, say the pot of government funding shrinks. Every time theres an assault, they lose brass. So the best-case scenario for Forest Banks substantial profit margins was that incidents were rare or nonexistent. Given that system, cases were rigorously assessed by the Home Office to ensure impartiality. The guy investigating us was asked to complete ours quickly as five staff members missing was a problem. Investigations can take months; this was sorted in four weeks. I did about five hours of taped interviews and got a letter clearing me. I phoned personnel and asked for a return to work date. Well get back to you.