ShagAndBag Somthing to think about .. sewing mail bags at wandsworth"

#ShagAndBag Somthing to think about .. sewing mail bags at wandsworth" Behind bars: 24 hours in the life of our biggest jail https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2006/sep/10/ukcrime.prisonsandprobation Behind bars: 24 hours in the life of our biggest jail Britain's prison population is at an all-time high, placing ever greater pressures on both prisoners and staff. Penal campaigners warn the system is close to crisis. But is it? Last Tuesday, The Observer gained unprecedented access to our largest prison, Wandsworth, to witness the hidden life of those behind the walls. Jamie Doward Sun 10 Sep 2006 03.43 EDT 2 6am The Prison Officer, Abu Nazir Dawn is breaking as prison officers start arriving for the day shift. Wandsworth is home to 1,456 prisoners and 750 staff, who work a series of shifts, often up to 13 hours at a time. Abu Nazir, a gentle looking Muslim officer with 15 years under his belt and a ready smile, is praised for his 'jailcraft' - an ability to stay calm and in control during fraught situations. Nazir and his team ensure the prisoners get to court on time. If the paperwork isn't in order, the prisoner will be returned to Wandsworth. Failure costs the taxpayer hundreds of pounds a time. Years of practice means they can quickly tell who will give them trouble. 'You can judge a book by its cover,' Nazir says. 'You know the type as soon as they walk in.' Wandsworth is currently operating at maximum capacity - even though this is the summer, when, historically, the prison population drops. Officers have been warned to expect a difficult autumn as the courts resume and more people are jailed. They pass through the dark, forbidding walls of the prison, their keys jangling on long metal chains. The oppressive outer walls give way to an explosion of colour in the inner courtyard. Everywhere there are flower boxes and hanging baskets, riots of geraniums and pansies. Advertisement The governor, Ian Mulholland, is proud that his prison has just won a Wandsworth in Bloom award from the local council. It is one of a series of minor victories Mullholland has won since taking over in May last year, having cut his teeth at HMP Exeter. Another was the introduction of curtains around the toilets in the shared cells, which measure 10ft x 7ft. Each cell wall tells a story. Prisoners tend to favour posters of Sixties psychedelia or Buddhism, with its promises of inner peace. Tobacco and smoking paraphernalia are everywhere. Cigarettes are the currency in Wandsworth. These first few hours after dawn are a key part of the day. Wandsworth, a category B jail, is an 'allocation prison'. Most of the prisoners are awaiting trial or, having been sentenced, waiting to be moved to another prison to start their sentence. The transitory nature of the prison means inmates can be upset by the slightest distruption to their routine. As dawn gives way to daylight, a fleet of white lorries, each containing 12 small cells the size of phone boxes, arrives to take prisoners to court. Today 29 are being dispatched; on a busy day, it can be as many as 100. Processing each prisoner to get them on to a lorry takes time. Often prisoners refuse to get out of bed or complain that they are not due in court. During processing, nurses are on hand to give the prisoners their medication. About 80 in Wandsworth are on methadone, the heroin substitute. A few are on another substitute, Subutex, which is considered more effective. But, over a three-month period earlier this year, Wandsworth spent £22,000 on Subutex, whereas Methadone costs a fraction of this. Some 60-70 per cent of prisoners are in Wandsworth for drug-related offences. The prisoners being moved to court are extensively searched and their papers processed. The austere surroundings of the processing unit look ugly under the strip lights. Cartoons have been pinned to the walls in a half-hearted attempt to lift the gloom. 'We're the first face they see in the morning and the last they see at night,' says Nazir. 'We try to be a friendly face. If they have a gripe, it's usually with the judicial system or the police, not us.' Advertisement 8am Tiny A giant of a man, nicknamed 'Tiny' by the officers, lurches past carrying a broom while James Blunt's 'You're Beautiful' plays, incongruously, out of an old stereo. The seven-footer with big lug ears, a shaved head and a crooked smile is one of a handful of prisoners who are given a trusted role. They are allowed to move more freely and are briefed not to talk to other prisoners. Tiny likes the responsibility and the position of trust his role entails. Like a number of prisoners in Wandsworth, Tiny, who speaks three languages, is finishing a sentence (for drugs) handed down abroad. 'This is much better than a Spanish prison,' Tiny says. 'Here people will talk to you. In Spain, they ignore you.' About 40 per cent of prisoners in Wandsworth are foreign nationals. Recently, the officers have noticed an increase in prisoners from eastern Europe. There are dark mutterings in the staff canteen about what will happen if Romanians and Bulgarians are allowed into Britain next year. There is also an increasing number of Chinese, who have been linked to a spate of kidnappings within the Chinese community. Some who arrive speak no English. For this reason, a world map is pinned to a wall at the front desk, so prisoners can point to their country of origin. An 'escapee' is brought in for processing. He wears distinctive yellow and purple striped clothing to mark him out as a risk. Nazir, a Muslim who recently took his family to Mecca, greets the prisoners as they are escorted into the lorries. 'Inshallah,' he says to one Muslim prisoner. 'Take care,' he says to another, who flashes a smile in return. When Nazir joined the service the prison population was just under 50,000. Today it is close to 80,000. But there has been no corresponding increase in public awareness. 'I would say the general public have only a five to 10 per cent idea of what goes on in a prison,' Nazir says. 9am The Governor, Ian Mulholland Having been at work for more than an hour, Ian Mulholland chairs his daily meeting. Key staff detail what happened over the past 24 hours while Mulholland talks about what they can expect later in the day. Today is a difficult day. A team of government solicitors is to conduct an inquest into the death of Jasper Smith, who hanged himself last Christmas. Since that death, the prison has brought in a senior psychologist to risk-assess prisoners when they arrive. Smith was considered vulnerable and was therefore subject to more scrutiny than other prisoners. Wandsworth has about 320 vulnerable prisoners, the vast majority of whom are sex offenders. A smaller group owe money to drug dealers who have contacts within the prison system. Advertisement Despite the strict searches and regular deployment of sniffer dogs, drugs are relatively common in Wandsworth. Illicit substances continue to be smuggled in. Sometimes the drugs are encased in tennis balls or socks, and thrown over the walls at a time arranged by covert text message. There are also concerns that prison staff are smuggling drugs into Wandsworth. Those on the outside pay the dealers, who, in turn, pay the staff. 'There is an issue of corruption among a tiny minority of our staff,' Mulholland acknowledges. 'You don't have to have too many corrupt people for it to have an impact.' The number of violent incidents is linked to the amount of drugs circulating within the prison, Mulholland believes. It is clear that population pressures make it difficult to monitor the situation. Perversely, at a time when crime rates are falling, the prison population is rising. 'We know there's little relationship between prison levels and crime levels,' is Mulholland's curt analysis of the government's policy. Managing the population is difficult. Because Wandsworth is an allocation prison, it takes all types. 'We have the full range,' Mulholland says. The mix worries some prisoners. Zyad Gorse, one of some 260 Muslim prisoners in Wandsworth, is completing his sentence after serving time in a German jail. 'In Germany, there are prisons for first-timers,' Gorse says. 'When you put first-timers and regulars together, it can't be right.' Suggestions that Britain is becoming a 'softer' society are forcefully rejected by Mulholland: 'All the evidence shows we are sending more people to prison for longer. The number of those serving sentences of four years or more is growing by two per cent a year.' Later in the day, Mulholland will walk round the prison. Prisoners come up to him airing their grievances. One is angry that a promised pay rise - for cleaning the prison, which pays £10 a week - has not been forthcoming. Prison officers have a similar complaint. They are outraged at the offer of what they see as a miserly, below-inflation pay rise. There is talk of industrial action. If officers take the unprecedented decision to walk out, the system will collapse. 2pm The prisoner, Sid Derrivier Some 40 prisoners are laying brick walls in a converted warehouse in the prison. A handful more are plastering walls, all watched by trained builders or prisoners such as Sid Derrivier, 50, who has done the course and wants to help others. Derrivier, who is serving time for drugs-related offences, is considered a model prisoner. He has a big smile and a gentle, approachable manner. A few years ago, inmates made paint brushes to be sold on the open market. Other sidelines once included sewing mail bags or doing laundry. But none of those activities gave the prisoners the skills needed for a new start when they got out, so they were stopped. Advertisement The bricklaying course, sponsored by the building firm John Laing, is in huge demand. It is estimated that 60 per cent of prisoners in Wandsworth have numeracy and literacy problems, so a skill such as bricklaying could be a lifeline. There is a substantial waiting list to get on the course, which earns students proper qualifications and the prospect of a job with Laing at the end. Dave Ashton has been a prison officer for 23 years. 'In the past, it was like a sausage factory,' Ashton says. 'We had 80 people in this warehouse making mailbags. But if you're going to give people skills, you can't have so many people in.' Derrivier hopes to get a job converting Battersea power station into luxury flats. He has promised his wife he'll be a lot handier around the house when he gets out. Soon Wandsworth will offer courses in plumbing and kitchen fitting. There are plans to expand its bicycle repair service to incorporate scooters. Away from vocational courses lie more opportunities. A peer-led phonetics- based literacy programme called Toe-to-Toe has helped prisoners improve their reading. Sex offenders are given cognitive behaviour therapy from trained psychologists. Difficult prisoners receive anger management courses. A scheme linking physical fitness to drug rehabilitation is also proving popular. Parenting skills are taught through drama-based workshops. But the big problem is what happens when the prisoners are released. Many have no homes to go to and little money. 'The waiting list for accommodation can be seven to 10 years,' said Robert Clark, a tall, studious-looking prisoner who works with the St Giles Trust, a charity helping prisoners find accommodation. 'Many end up sleeping on the streets.' Without better support for released prisoners, many will end up returning. Wandsworth has had cases where released prisoners have returned within two days. Statistics tell their own story: almost two-thirds of jailed offenders go on to commit further crimes. But this statistic does not tell the whole story. More than half - 55 per cent - of jailed adult males don't reoffend, something the Home Office believes represents a success. 4pm Tom Bolger, Head of Health Services Tom Bolger is discussing cutbacks with a colleague. Bolger has been with the prison for almost three years. He could be thinking about retirement, but finds his work too challenging. A recent audit found 15 per cent of Wandsworth's prisoners have severe mental illnesses. Many more have personality disorders. 'It's one of the big scandals of our time,' Bolger says. 'When they closed the asylums, they just stuffed a significant number into institutions that were even less well equipped.' An ageing prison population has seen a rise in a number of 'elderly' diseases in Wandsworth, such as diabetes. There is a lot more hepatitis and HIV now than 10 years ago. Bolger is scathing about short sentences. 'They are long enough for someone to lose their jobs and their homes, but just short enough for them not to get the required treatment.' Advertisement Near Bolger's office is the solitary confinement unit, a 12-cell wing that houses some of the most difficult and vulnerable prisoners. Mr N and Mr C are in the TV room together. Mr N is one of Britain's most violent gangsters, who is waiting sentencing for running a drugs cartel. He has a propensity to extreme violence, which explains why the prison's largest guards, huge slabs of men, are on duty. Mr C is prone to self-harm. The fact the two are watching television together is considered a breakthrough. Mr N will soon be shipped to another prison, where he will be among other prisoners. Mr C is due for parole in five months. For different reasons, both need to get used to other people's company. Along the wing is the adjudication room, where a judge can add days to a prisoner's sentence if he is caught with drugs or mobile phones, or has been violent. 5pm The prison lorries return The lorries start to return with prisoners while Tiny busies himself with his broom. Another prisoner, Jimmy, wanders around making tea for the officers. Will Young is playing on the sound system. Now is the hardest part of the day. Some who arrive at Wandsworth have not expected to be held on remand. Others have been sentenced and are distraught. Many are disoriented and are desperate to talk to their family. Each prisoner is given a pin code giving him £2.50 worth of phone credits and is asked if he wants to be classed as a vulnerable prisoner, to be held in a separate part of the prison. Each is photographed and searched and offered clean jogging suits to change into. 'The smell of some of them is terrible,' says one officer. 'They've been on the streets and just aren't used to washing.' New arrivals are sent to C wing, where they are held for one night before being moved around the prison. Soon after they enter Wandsworth, they are visited by civilians from the Prison Advice and Care Trust. They can also see a 'listener', a prisoner who has been trained by the Samaritans. 'We can be quite busy some nights,' said Kevin Sykes, a listener. 'We get 80-100 calls a month.' Most prisoners in Wandsworth believe the physical aspects of prison are manageable. They are locked up, usually two to a cell, for lunch, dinner and overnight. The rest of the time they are free to wander around the wings, where there are pool tables and table football. Some complained to The Observer about the food, although the menu - six different meals including halal, vegan and traditional English - seem better than that on offer in many schools. Others accused the 'screws' of physically hurting them. One man claimed his ribs had been broken during a scuffle with officers. However, many spoke approvingly of the prison officers, a large number of whom are female and drawn from ethnic minorities. Such was the interaction and easy familiarity between officers and prisoners it was not always easy to work out who was who. But the prisoners are in no doubt that they are being punished. 'People think because we've got TVs this is a holiday camp,' says one guest of Her Majesty, Barry Jones. 'But it's no joke. Being away from your loved ones, that's what hurts. It's the sense of helplessness.'