Read Online Purgatory: A Prison Diary Volume 2 by Jeffrey Archer - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeffrey Archer
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thinks for a moment. ‘Having to tell a
prisoner that his wife or partner doesn’t want him back just before they’re due
to be released.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘Many long-term prisoners phone their wives twice a week,
and are even visited by them once a fortnight. But it’s only when their
sentence is drawing to a close and a probation officer has to visit the
matrimonial home that the wife confesses she doesn’t want her husband back. Usually because by then they are living with another man –
sometimes their husband’s best friend.’
‘And they expect you to break the news?’
‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘Because they can’t
face doing it themselves, even on the phone.’
‘And is there any particular set of prisoners you don’t like
dealing with? The paedophiles, murderers, rapists, drug
dealers, for example?’
‘No, I can handle all of them’ she says. ‘But the group I
have no time for are the burglars.’
‘Burglars?’
They show neither remorse nor conscience. Even when they’ve
stolen personal family heirlooms they tell you it’s all right because the
victim can claim it back on insurance.’ She glances at her watch. I’m meant to
be asking you some questions,’ she pauses, ‘not that the usual ones apply.’
‘Try me,’ I suggest. Lisa removes a sheet of paper from a
file and reads out the listed questions.
‘Are you married?, Are you living with your wife?, Have you
any children?, Do you have any other children?, Are any of them in need of
assistance or financial help?, Will you be returning to your family when you
are released?, When you are released, do you have any income other than the
ninety pounds the State provides for you?, Do you have somewhere to sleep on
your first night out of prison?, Do you have a job to go to, with a guaranteed
source of income?’ She looks up. ‘The purpose of the last question is to find
out if you’re likely to commit an offence within hours of leaving prison.’
‘Why would anyone do that?’ I ask.
‘Because, for some of them, this is the
only place that guarantees three meals a day, a bed and someone to talk to. You’ve got a good example on your wing. Out last month, back inside this month.
Robbed an old lady of her bag and then immediately handed it back to her. He
even hung around until the police arrived to make sure he was arrested.’
I think I know the prisoner she’s referring to, and make a
mental note to have a word with him. Our hour is drawing to a close, so I ask
if she will stick with it.
‘Yes. I’ve been in the service for ten years and, despite everything,
it has its rewards. Mind you, it’s changed a lot during the last decade. When I
first joined, the motto emblazoned on our notepaper used to read, Advise,
Assist and Befriend. Now it’s Enforcement, Rehabilitation and Public
Protection; the result of a massive change in society, its new-found freedom
and the citizen’s demands for safety. The public doesn’t begin to understand
that at least thirty per cent of people in prison shouldn’t be locked up at
all, while seventy per cent, the professional criminals, will be in and out for
the rest of their lives.’
There’s a knock on the door. My hour’s up, and we haven’t
even touched on the problem of drugs. Mr Chapman enters carrying two bundles of
letters. Lisa looks surprised.
‘That’s only the first post’ Mr Chapman tells her.
‘I can quite believe it,’ she says. ‘My parents send their
best wishes. My father wanted you to sign one of his books, but I told him it
would be most unprofessional.’ I rise from my place. ‘Good luck with your
appeal,’ she adds, as we shake hands. I thank her and return to my cell.
12 noon
Lunch: macaroni cheese and diet lemonade. I hate lemonade,
so I spend some considerable time shaking the bottle in an effort to remove the
bubbles. I have a considerable amount of time.
1.45 pm
Mr Chapman warns me that I will not be able to go to the
prisoner that his wife or partner doesn’t want him back just before they’re due
to be released.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘Many long-term prisoners phone their wives twice a week,
and are even visited by them once a fortnight. But it’s only when their
sentence is drawing to a close and a probation officer has to visit the
matrimonial home that the wife confesses she doesn’t want her husband back. Usually because by then they are living with another man –
sometimes their husband’s best friend.’
‘And they expect you to break the news?’
‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘Because they can’t
face doing it themselves, even on the phone.’
‘And is there any particular set of prisoners you don’t like
dealing with? The paedophiles, murderers, rapists, drug
dealers, for example?’
‘No, I can handle all of them’ she says. ‘But the group I
have no time for are the burglars.’
‘Burglars?’
They show neither remorse nor conscience. Even when they’ve
stolen personal family heirlooms they tell you it’s all right because the
victim can claim it back on insurance.’ She glances at her watch. I’m meant to
be asking you some questions,’ she pauses, ‘not that the usual ones apply.’
‘Try me,’ I suggest. Lisa removes a sheet of paper from a
file and reads out the listed questions.
‘Are you married?, Are you living with your wife?, Have you
any children?, Do you have any other children?, Are any of them in need of
assistance or financial help?, Will you be returning to your family when you
are released?, When you are released, do you have any income other than the
ninety pounds the State provides for you?, Do you have somewhere to sleep on
your first night out of prison?, Do you have a job to go to, with a guaranteed
source of income?’ She looks up. ‘The purpose of the last question is to find
out if you’re likely to commit an offence within hours of leaving prison.’
‘Why would anyone do that?’ I ask.
‘Because, for some of them, this is the
only place that guarantees three meals a day, a bed and someone to talk to. You’ve got a good example on your wing. Out last month, back inside this month.
Robbed an old lady of her bag and then immediately handed it back to her. He
even hung around until the police arrived to make sure he was arrested.’
I think I know the prisoner she’s referring to, and make a
mental note to have a word with him. Our hour is drawing to a close, so I ask
if she will stick with it.
‘Yes. I’ve been in the service for ten years and, despite everything,
it has its rewards. Mind you, it’s changed a lot during the last decade. When I
first joined, the motto emblazoned on our notepaper used to read, Advise,
Assist and Befriend. Now it’s Enforcement, Rehabilitation and Public
Protection; the result of a massive change in society, its new-found freedom
and the citizen’s demands for safety. The public doesn’t begin to understand
that at least thirty per cent of people in prison shouldn’t be locked up at
all, while seventy per cent, the professional criminals, will be in and out for
the rest of their lives.’
There’s a knock on the door. My hour’s up, and we haven’t
even touched on the problem of drugs. Mr Chapman enters carrying two bundles of
letters. Lisa looks surprised.
‘That’s only the first post’ Mr Chapman tells her.
‘I can quite believe it,’ she says. ‘My parents send their
best wishes. My father wanted you to sign one of his books, but I told him it
would be most unprofessional.’ I rise from my place. ‘Good luck with your
appeal,’ she adds, as we shake hands. I thank her and return to my cell.
12 noon
Lunch: macaroni cheese and diet lemonade. I hate lemonade,
so I spend some considerable time shaking the bottle in an effort to remove the
bubbles. I have a considerable amount of time.
1.45 pm
Mr Chapman warns me that I will not be able to go to the
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