Mobile Phones

The prison system is awash with mobile phones. In the last year, 7329 phones or SIM were discovered. Extrapolate from those found to those remaining and it can be appreciated that a serious potential problem exists.

When I say "problem", the law and order lobby may instinctively assume I am referring to the crimes allegedly committed through access to mobiles by prisoners. Such is the belief that mobiles are a nexus of wickedness that a new law has been quickly shepherded through Parliament allowing prisons to install blocking technology.

What I predict as the "problem", though is the fact that British Telecom and the Prison Service must be losing a fortune from their captive customers is so many of them are exploring the free-market and opting for mobiles over the official prison payphones. And that isn't a problem for me, prisoners, or anyone - except BT. At 9p a minute to call ones family through the payphones, the delights of mobile call-plans are hard to resist.

But to return to the essence of this post - the new blocking technology, based on arguments that mobiles are used to commit crime.

If you are to take up a chunk of Parliamentary time and effort, if you are to explore the wilder reaches of technological development, and if you are going to pressure Governors to festoon their prisons with these systems then you would think that the Ministry of Justice or the Prison Service would be able to substantiate the scare stories.

Wouldn't you? Then you would be wrong, wrong, wrong. Having lobbied for this law to install jamming technology, when put on the spot to say just how many crimes have been committed using mobiles the official response is.... "we don't know and don't intend trying to find out".

This, dear reader, is how daft laws become born and how ignorant policy makers bumble through their paltry existence. It's embarrassing.

But not as embarrassing as the fact that, in passing this Bill through Parliament, not a single legislator thought to ask the question - how much crime is committed with prison mobiles, and are we all wasting time and money on this law?

Yellow? Yellow?

Within a week or so I should be the owner of a shiny, new, and legal mobile phone. I'm not turning cartwheels. These mobiles are for use outside of the prison and are stored in our lockers near the Gate, to be picked up and returned as we make our forays into the Outside.

Unlike regular consumers, we are strictly limited to the phones that we can buy. The list comprises every piece of crap left on the shelf over the last few years as the world moved on. And none of our permitted list can have a camera or internet.

Even with my vast experience of the Prison Service Mind, I'll be damned if I can fathom even a tortuous explanation for these restrictions. After all, whilst out in the community we are allowed to take pictures and surf the Net, so why deny us phones with those capabilities? A more pointless restriction is hard to find.

And as we can use mobiles within moments of leaving the prison, why are we denied access to them whilst in the prison? Why can we not wander the landings with Nokia's finest in our pocket?

The usual argument against prisoners having access to mobile phones is "security", that mindless mantra used to stifle any unorthodox thought or deed within the prison system. But this collapses utterly in the face of the reality of Open prisons. After all, if I wanted to pass a message secretly then I could do so on my own town visits, or ask one of the 200 men who leave the nick each day to pass it on.

This stupidity - I can call it no other - illustrates the lazy mindset of prison service policy makers, most of whom have never set foot in an actual prison, preferring the comfort of HQ. These over-promoted typists create policies which afflict the whole of the prison system, with no thought or consideration being given to the very different circumstances that apply across the system.

It is one thing to ban prisoners in the High Security Estate from possessing mobiles, but it is quite another to extend that to Open prisons. The result of this silliness is that on one side of the pole we are legit owners and users of mobiles; walk a further foot towards the Gate, though, and we are liable to an extra 2 years imprisonment for having such technology about our person.

If I haven't mentioned it before, I think that the prison system is run by idiots.

Proctology Calling

So a guy his his mobile phone in the usual place - his ass.

Having set off the metal detector he must now produce the goods in order to leave the Block. Which is the problem.

The phone has decided to migrate and explore the wilder parts of the guy's colon, and refuses to be expelled.

Is there an "app" for that?!?

A Minor Legal Issue

After repeated asking, Shepton have finally disclosed the paperwork from my mobile phone adjudication.

And lo!  It reveals that the Governor found me guilty on the basis of "reasonable probability".  Such a pity that the legal standard of guilt must be based upon "beyond reasonable doubt", i.e. the same as criminal trials.

The appeal is currently with the prison's Ombudsman.  It is their remit to ensure that due legal process was adhered to.  So I expect them to quash my guilty finding pretty quickly.  Watch this space...

For Whom the Ringtone Tolls, Part 2...

You may be wondering who the hell tries to smuggle a mobile into Open prison?? It's up there with smuggling sand to Saudi as an exercise in utter pointlessness. Well, not me. I can fairly be called an idiot, but not bloody insane.

So the truth of that day and my involvement with mobile phones. Many of you won’t be overwhelmed to learn that I’ve been connected to the internet on and off for some time, and staff have long suspected that I had access to a mobile. Quite right, I did. My first involvement with a mobile was for a few weeks four years ago. Later on, I obtained another.

What did I use this facility for? Not surprisingly, the same as you guys out there. Making calls, keeping my relationship alive, surfing, music…the usual. Most importantly, the mobile was my emotional bridge to the Editor, it sustained us and provided an oasis away from the madness of prison life. And in case you’re wondering, no I didn’t blog from the phone, although I did keep a paternal eye on your comments.


When the prospect of Open hove into view a long time ago, I disposed of my mobile. Instead I opted to borrow one when necessary, avoiding the increased risk of having to operate and hide one of my own.


The morning I was told I was off to Open, I went to the cell of Mr X to use his mobile phone to call the Editor. Then I told Mr X that I would be off that afternoon. After visiting Reception and the Library, I shot back to my cell, grabbed a few things and took them to Reception.

On my way back, Mr X told me that he’d done me a favour – he’d hidden the mobile in my word processor so that I could use it to talk to the Editor over lunchtime lock-up.

He may as well have shot me. My legs turned to jelly and it was all I could do to get back to my cell, when what I wanted to do was just fall in a heap and howl at the moon.


I am now in the hands of the disciplinary process, where it has to be shown beyond reasonable doubt that I had knowing possession of that mobile phone. Although my plea is not guilty, that the main Governor has been wheeled out to act as Judge doesn’t fill me with hope – the stench of payback is in the air! My hope lies with an appeal.

Next week, then, I should be slung into solitary for a while. This is a minor irritant. The real consequences are those that flow from being a Lifer – the loss of Open, serving more years, as all that I love and value disintegrates.

And Mr X? He has his own parole hearing later this year and isn’t volunteering to come forward to get me off the hook. And I don’t blame him; he thought he was doing me a big favour.

Every part of my life which gives meaning to my paltry existence is disintegrating. My PhD research is on a knife edge, as a floppy disc of notes has been lost during my recent travels. And yesterday, my oncologist told me that my PSA level has doubled in the last two months and there is a real concern that my tumour isn't being as helpful as it could be. As a crap 48 hours goes, this has been the worst in the sentence.

And so I face the prospect of losing everything and serving several more years. Such is the frailty of life, for all of us, and it can change in a brief moment.

Do Not Ask For Whom The Ringtone Tolls…

There are moments in life, rarely appreciated at the time, which predetermine the future course of our existence. For me, one of those moments crept up on me the other day. 1 thought I had reached a pinnacle, the descent of which would be Open prison and release. In truth, the day transformed into an abyss.

I was lying on my bed, grinding my way through the Hitler biography, when a governor knocked on the door.  “When do you want to go to Prescoed?'' he asked. I pointed out that I was busy, but that I could squeeze it in this afternoon.  “Done”, he said.  A guy was leaving Prescoed and I could take his place. He assured me it wasn't a delayed April Fool's joke, this time I would actually arrive at the other end.

 

This was the news that 1, the Editor, and those of you who support my release had long been waiting for. I was instantly on the phone to the Editor to tell her the best news we could hope for. Unless you have served 31 years in prison, how can I possibly try to convey what it feels like to be within sight of a new life, to look down the tunnel and see the woman I love, waiting in the sunlight?

Shooting up to the Library and Reception, I went to spread the news and sort out the practicalities.  Moving, and at such short notice, isn't an uncomplicated social process. Deciding to get a headstart, I packed some box files and my word-processor and delivered them to Reception, the rest to follow after lunch.

 

On my way back, I took a sledgehammer the likes of which 1 have never had to experience  -  I was told that there was a mobile phone hidden inside my word-processor . I was utterly stunned, immobilised, helpless. Sitting out on the yard before lunch, trying to smile at people's congratulations, I was in internal freefall . Never has the gap between my internal state and my external presentation been so large.

All I could do was sit and wait. Would my property be X-Rayed before my move?  My mind just couldn't cope with calculations, even thinking, about the consequences that would fall if the mobile was found.

As we were being locked up after lunch, a governor marched down to the corridor, looking serious. He told me that I wasn't going to Prescoed, and that I was nicked. The details would follow later. The call I then made to the Editor broke my heart, and all I could do was leave my presence on her answering machine.  

 

The charge sheet was issued that evening -  unauthorised possession of a mobile phone.

Mobile Phones in Prison

If you believe the spin emanating from the Ministry of Justice, then the 8000 odd phones found in prisons last year had the sole use of 'nefarious purposes'.

It seems that vast criminal enterprises are being run by Chopper Evans in Cardiff, Toon Tony in Strangeways and "I married my mother" Fred in Dartmoor. The global drugs trade centres on a bloke lying on his bunk in the Scrubs, despatching assassins and cocaine during the adverts in Corry.

That such an insistent pack of lies is being spun by the Ministry must surely make one wonder what the real story is? It is a simple and common tale, involving civil servants in the Prison Service being stupid.

The truth is that these desk jockeys signed a contract with BT to provide a phone system for prisoners. What should have been a simple matter was turned into a nightmare, because the idiots agreed a contract that meant that prisoners are charged 7 times

more than it costs to use a payphone on the street. Even the Office of Fair Trading has kicked off over this contract.

Simple human urges took care of the rest. With our wages being set at a pocket-money level that would see a 10 year old leave home in disgust; and with the natural urge to speak to our wives, children and mothers; then the result was foregone.

So mobile phones are smuggled in. Not for organising miscellaneous wickedness, but so that we are able to talk to our families for longer than a few minutes at a time without exhausting a week’s pay doing so. Being imprisoned and punished is one thing. Being ripped-off is what gets our goat.

And for those who question why we have access to phones at all, consider the simple point - maintaining family contacts is one of the most powerful factors in reducing reoffending. Why should our families suffer for what we have done?