Episode 15 - Plugged, Stabbings + Lockdown

Daily, I see graphic scenes as a result of the blade slicing through flesh. It's like a cross between a war zone and a slasher movie.

During the three and a half years I was in prison I wrote over a million words by hand. Tales From The Jails is a contemporaneous account of my life, and attempts to thrive rather than merely survive, whilst incarcerated.

Most names have been changed. The events have not.

This is a Jekyll & Pride production in association with Keyhole Productions.

Producer: Trevessa Newton
Director: Kris McDonald

Title Music taken from The Confession, on the album Crimes Against Poetry (written and performed by The Shadow Poet, produced by Lance Thomas)

Copyright Jekyll & Pride Ltd 2024

@jekyllandpride2023
@theshadowpoettsp

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
During the three and a halfyears I was in prison, I wrote

(00:03):
over a million words by hand.
Tales from the Jails is acontemporaneous account of my
life, and attempts to thriverather than merely survive
whilst incarcerated.
Most names have been changed,but the events have not.

(00:33):
Episode 15 Plugged, StabbingsLockdown.
HMP is in lockdown again.
The fifth time in as many days.
The Northwest Squad are in.
They're padbusters in riot gearwith a zero tolerance to any and
all prisoners.

(00:53):
And they've got dogs with themtoo.
Mr.
H says it's the worst he's everseen the prison service in 25
years.
The real problem is the blades.
Lads have been getting slasheddaily for the first week or so
and now it's at a level wherebyinmates are claiming they are
carrying them for protection,such is the anxiety and fear.

(01:16):
The other morning, when I was onthe drugs test and it went off,
that was the catalyst that'sbeen fueling the escalation and
why the prison is presently inlockdown.
The word is ringleaders arebeing targeted as a result.
The interesting observationworth noting is nothing seems to
come of the epidemic of attackstaking place.

(01:38):
People end up at best scarredfor life or worst case scenario,
clinging onto life aftersuffering horrific wounds.
Daily, I see graphic scenes as aresult of the blade slicing
through flesh.
It's like a cross between a warzone and a slasher movie.
The safest place, although notguaranteed, is locked behind the

(02:03):
door in one's cell, or, ifyou're lucky, down here in
reception working, away from themadness, chaos, and violence
that is sweeping through thewings.
Once again, the Samaritanscourse is being cancelled.
And to compound the situation,the gym is closed too.

(02:23):
The disruption ripples throughthe prison like a terrorist
alert, and lockdown is as much apunishment as it is for our
protection.
As I write, a sniffer dog entersmy snug workspace, the stores
room.
It's a Springer Spaniel, waggingits tail, but on duty.

(02:45):
Some of the lads are playingchess, and I'm listening to
Funeral FM and writing.
The s prightly Springer does atour of our space.
The lads at the chessboard arenervous but try not to show it.
Tensions are high.
The dog moves on and takes themoron holding the leash with it.
The lads smile at me with that,thank you, Lord look about them.

(03:09):
I commented that I'd needcounselling if the dog struck
gold.
Or on second thoughts, maybeit's the dog that needs
counselling.
Because if it finds what it'slooking for, then it's concealed
in only one place, and thatain't pretty.
In HMP, there is only one placedrugs or a mobile phone can be

(03:29):
stashed and secure, and that'sthe plugging place.
One way in, and the same wayout.
I've contemplated countlesstimes what is tough.
What is strong?
What is love?
Now I'm asking, what is normal?
Because that's as changing, ifnot perplexing, as the other

(03:50):
questions.
A large number of lads will beplugged today, of that I'm
certain.
Thankfully, I'm away from thewings and dramas taking place.
However, I'm not free of thehassle.
The tantrums and tiaras, themotives and agendas, the cliques
and the pricks and the alphamalisms that percolate in the
workplace are reaching boilingpoint.

(04:15):
My fear today is that mysanctuary, my little storeroom,
is being hijacked.
My peace and tranquility isslowly ebbing away.
But as with all things, I'velearned to take it in my stride.
I'm now in the one place whereone's character is tested to its
limits.
Reaching Zen status in prisonwill be one of the greatest

(04:37):
achievements of my life.
I smile at the thought of notwhy I'm here, but what I choose
to do while I'm here.
When a person has a lifechanging moment, then he or she
would be a fool not to put it togood use.
However, nothing and no one issacred.

(04:57):
The polarization between my lifepre HMP and present can be
entertaining as much asfrustrating.
99 percent of everything I dohas to be a compromise.
I'm embedded in a culture thatis constantly debilitating,
grinding, gnawing away at one'spatience and tolerance.

(05:19):
Even the chaplain's patience istested.
Imagine all of the above, day inand day out.
The only switching off ormodicum of peace is the dead of
night, and then, if you'reappreciating it, then you're not
asleep and probably something ison your mind.
It's worse than Groundhog Day.

(05:42):
Often, I sit and wonder, what isthe purpose of treating us all
so badly?
But then I reflect on how badlythe lads treat each other.
It's a vicious circle.
What is worse is that thereappears no appetite to change
it.
I find myself writing about thepain I hide, separated from T,

(06:03):
my daughter, my mother and JohnBoy.
In one hand.
I'm spoiled with love, yet onthe other I'm incarcerated in a
loveless place.
I try not to feel sorry formyself because I know my loved
ones are suffering in ways thatare unfair.
Privacy in prison is always infront of someone else.

(06:27):
There are no quiet corners tosit and reflect or shed a tear
or just feel sad for a moment.
All perfectly normal and naturalhuman emotions.
We can barely use the toilet inprivate, cannot eat in private
and for 99 percent of us, cannotsleep in private.
Almost everything you do has tobe shared in the company of

(06:48):
another inmate.
Prison and prisoners will stripyou of everything without a
shred of mercy if you allow it.
Imagine, sitting on the toiletbut on display to strangers.
I find this tough, but try notto show it.
However, I watch the news andthe poor people without warning

(07:09):
being displaced, becomingmigrants and refugees.
Ours is tough, but it isn't astough as theirs.
And I try to imagine being intheir position, even more
helpless, vulnerable, in acountry where you don't know
another person, in a place withpeople who don't want you, and
not knowing where your next mealmight come from.

(07:32):
It's bad for us.
But worse for them.
Maybe life teaches us not totake things for granted.
Maybe it's the case of not whyme, but why not me?
Men become overwhelmed by fearsand toxic thoughts in a place
such as this.
One cannot wander off and go fora walk There is no escape from

(07:55):
the relentless unpleasantness.
The unpleasantries that men wishto inflict in the name of being
notorious.
Proving something to themselvesby inflicting pain and misery on
others.
In here, men want to see otherssuffer.
There's no place to scream.
And if there was, there is noone to listen.