Authors: Ian Todd
Efter the good reverend telt everywan tae go in peace, before disappearing aff through the wee side door beside the alter tae go and get tore in tae his roast beef, the untried boys, under the direction ae the screws, started tae vacate their pews in single file. Johnboy felt his heart pounding. He measured the steps between the end ae his pew tae where The Scowler wis sitting. He reckoned he could cover the ground in three strides. The Scowler wis sitting, oblivious tae whit wis aboot tae descend oan him. He wis intently looking at the faces ae the untried boys passing by where he wis sitting. Johnboy noticed wan ae them nodding tae him and getting a wee nod back. Baith Johnboy and Silent stared intently at the boy oan his way past, looking fur any sign that wid tell them who the hell The Scowler wis.
“Did ye recognise him, Silent?” Johnboy whispered in Silent’s lug, scanning their surroundings, checking oot where the screws hid placed themsels.
Silence.
Johnboy’s row stood up. There wis only aboot twenty ae the untried boys left tae shuffle past them in the aisle. Johnboy gripped the wooden dagger in his haun, keeping the length ae it running parallel tae the seam running doon the side ae his troosers. His heart wis pounding faster noo. He wis the fourth wan in fae the aisle. The untried boys wur hauf milling aboot and jostling each other as they exited up the narrow aisle. The Scowler wis awready oan his feet. Aw Johnboy hid tae dae, using Silent’s heid and shoulders as cover, wis lean forward and quickly jab the ragged, pointed end ae the makeshift oak knife swiftly intae The Scowler’s left eye oan his way past. The two HMP YOs in front ae Silent obviously didnae hiv a clue whit wis aboot tae happen. Johnboy felt a rush ae blood tae his heid and his mooth suddenly dried up, as the fingers ae his left haun dug intae Silent’s right shoulder. His body pressed upwards and he leaned forwards oan his toes, while at the same time, he drew up the wooden blade wae his right haun…and then disaster struck. Efter aw that nervous, rush ae adrenalin, his brain suddenly stalled, rapidly descending in tae a curved slow motion, like a 45rpm single swiftly drapping doon intae a 33rpm LP track.
The big fat pock-faced senior screw suddenly appeared oot ae nowhere and stoapped the last ae the untried crowd fae moving forward as Johnboy shakily fell back oan his heels, loosening his grip oan Silent’s shoulder. The fat basturt then motioned fur the YOs in Johnboy’s row tae start moving oot. Johnboy couldnae believe it. When the fat braided uniform stoapped the exiting untried boys in the aisle, he’d unwittingly blocked Johnboy’s access tae The Scowler. Another screw hid also arrived oan the scene and wis noo staunin between the HMP YOs in front ae Silent and Johnboy and the untried boys left behind.
“Right, move,” the screw growled tae Johnboy’s row, thrusting his thumb towards the door ae the church.
Johnboy drapped the wooden chib fae his haun, doon oan tae the flair. When he looked doon, he clocked Silent’s right fit kicking it oot ae sight, under the pew that it hid jist been ripped aff ae, a couple ae minutes earlier. Johnboy’s heid wis in turmoil as he passed the two screws that wur staunin covering the door. He followed the human snake alang the corridor in single file back tae their cells. As they waited fur the screw tae unlock the gate in tae the convicted wing, Johnboy leaned forward, putting his mooth close tae Silent’s right lug.
“Whit the fuck wis aw that aboot?” he cursed in frustration, no expecting any response back, as Silent suddenly moved forward wae the rest ae the YOs intae the dark corridor.
“
Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.
One of two brothers appearing at the High Court in Glasgow after explosives were found in the vestry of St Teresa’s Chapel in Possilpark has been sentenced to seven years imprisonment. Seventeen-year-old Mairead Mulligan and twenty-eight-year old Shamus Connelly were both found not guilty of the same charges. All three denied being members of the Provisional IRA. Father John Donnelly, the priest at the centre of an extradition battle between Dublin and London, was unavailable for comment. Father Donnelly was the priest at St Teresa’s for a number of years until he fled after Special Branch officers raided the chapel vestry in…
The youth who received the longest sentence ever imposed on a teenager in Scotland has been refused leave to appeal against his conviction along with the length of term imposed in the High Court in Glasgow by Lord Campbell of Claremyle on the 30
th
of May this year. At the Court of Session in Edinburgh today, Lord Bryant, speaking on behalf of other law lords, ruled against the appeal by eighteen-year-old John Taylor, who is currently serving fourteen years for shooting two police officers during a bank robbery on the 9th of November last year. Lord Bryant stated that they were satisfied that the conviction and the sentence imposed by Lord Campbell of Claremyle is safe and appropriate…
A youth has been sentenced to seven years for discharging a shotgun during a raid on a post office in Govan in April. During the raid, a police constable and a customer wrestled nineteen-year-old Brian Thomas to the ground before disarming him. Thomas made no comment after being sentenced by Lord Campbell of Claremyle at the High Court in Glasgow today…
A social worker falsely accused of assaulting children whilst under his care in Applecart List D School in Glasgow, has called for greater protection for staff after the case against him was found not proven at Glasgow Sheriff Court. Brian Wilkinson claimed that disturbed young recidivists, under the care of dedicated social work staff, are taking advantage of relaxed structures imposed on services by the Scottish Home and Health Department by falsifying claims of abuse against those who are dedicated to helping those young people most in need…
Allegations of bribery by two Glasgow Police officers against a former colleague were branded a pack of lies in Glasgow Sheriff Court today. Gerald Collins denied he corruptively offered a substantial sum of money to two female colleagues on the condition that they rule that Collins had no case to answer for when police were called to a house in Anniesland Court in November last year, after neighbours grew concerned at screams coming from the house. Collins’s wife spent three days in hospital with injuries sustained after she claimed her husband assaulted her in the kitchen of the marital home to her severe injury. Procurator fiscal, Glenda Metcalf urged Sheriff…
Four women, all with previous convictions, were each jailed for sixty days today, after being found guilty of committing an assault and breach of the peace against police and sheriff officers outside a closemouth on Springburn Road last month…”
Chapter Eight
Angus Diamond, Governor ae Longriggend Remand Unit, looked aboot his office quickly. He could hear the voices ootside in the inner office. He hurriedly nipped across the room tae his filing cabinet and grabbed another haunful ae files and scurried back tae his desk, dumping them oan tap ae the big pile that he’d awready strategically plapped doon a few minutes earlier in tae his in-tray. He stood back, forensically scanning the stacked paper and cardboard mountain fur flaws, convinced something wisnae quite right. He swiftly reached o’er and grabbed the tap file, opening it quickly, before tossing it oan tae the unblemished blotter pad sitting oan tap ae his desk, jist as Miss Cattle rattled his door wae they arthritic knuckles ae hers.
“Enter!” he bellowed, as the cheeks ae that arse ae his connected thunderously wae the green leather, groaning padded seat.
“Mr Brown and Mr Peacock, Governor,” Miss Cattle neighed, in that strange whinnying voice ae hers, staunin aside tae let in the two big guns fae Edinburgh.
“Jack, Thomas, come in, come in, take the weight aff ae yer pins. Ye’ll be wanting a wee cup ae tea and wan ae Longriggend’s special date buns efter that long journey,” The Governor beamed, looking up fae the open folder in front ae him, as he came toddling roond the desk tae shake his visitors’ hauns.
“That sounds right fine and dandy tae me, Gus, so it dis,” Jack Broon, Scottish Prisons Manager said, flexing the fingers ae his right haun, as he heided fur a saft seat, trying tae ignore the pain in his crushed fingers.
“You’re looking good, I see, Gus,” Thomas Peacock fae The Department’s legal section winced, splaying the fingers ae his right haun a couple times in quick succession in an attempt tae get his circulation back, as they fat buttocks ae his invaded, then took o’er the creaking Perth Prison-made ermchair.
“If ye’d be so kind, Miss Cattle?”
“Of course, Governor,” she snorted through her nostrils, practically curtsying, as she trotted aff, pulling the door shut behind her.
The Governor looked across at the two suits who wur in the course ae bending o’er, lifting files oot ae their service-issue briefcases. Despite Peacock still wearing his jaicket, The Governor wis shocked and disturbed tae be confronted by the fat cheeks ae his white hairy arse peeking o’er the tap ae his waistband at him. He wis relieved when Peacock eventually lifted his briefcase up oan tae the wee coffee table tae allow him easier access tae its contents. Ye knew ye’d made it in the service when ye wur allowed tae swan aboot wae a briefcase wae ER stamped oan the side ae it, The Governor thought tae himsel bitterly. Thirty three bloody years and aw he hid tae show fur it wis a scabby Parker pen, specifically issued tae aw governors, as standard, tae be used tae triplicate sign fur anything that cost mair than a few measly quid. He’d heard that this pair even hid their ain service expense account as well. The Governor wondered whit wis gaun oan. Thomas Peacock wisnae supposed tae be visiting Longriggend, bit hid goat that secretary ae his…the wan wae the skelly eyes and two different shaped paps…tae phone and inform The Governor that, seeing as Jack Broon wis heiding his way, then Thomas wid come alang fur the ride. The Governor quite liked Jack, even though he wis a bit ae a tosser and an arse-licker tae boot. The planned meeting wae Jack wis tae discuss the situation that George Crawford, the governor doon in Dumfries Young Offenders Institution, hid found himsel in. Although there wis nae chance ae a strike, the issue still hidnae been resolved and events oan the ground hid been developing faster than a tinker chasing a bent broon penny doon a steep, cobbled hill. He looked across at the fat lawyer, the weight ae whose arse wis forcing the broon plastic-coated seat springs and cushion through the bottom ae his good chair and wis noo practically touching the carpet. He didnae believe that Peacock’s arrival wae Jack hidnae been pre-planned beforehaun. He’d need tae go caw-canny and be oan his guard. They lawyer types fae The Department invented the expression ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ and wurnae shy in putting it intae practice either. Murray Birnie, the ex-governor ae Peterheid, hid goat his hee-haws entangled wae wan ae Peacock’s sidekicks and hid last been heard ae scratching a living as a so-called security consultant wae Mieklejohn’s Dairy doon in Saltcoats. Pat Wright, the Assistant Governor across in Polmont, hid telt Angus recently that this wis a heap ae shite and that Murray hid actually been clocked wandering aboot oan the other side ae the fence ae the dairy wan night, wae a security guard’s uniform oan, carrying a torch, mumbling tae himsel. Whitever the truth wis, he’d need tae tread very carefully. He wisnae a bitter person, bit it hidnae taken him long tae realise his mistake, soon efter ducking and diving tae get himsel elected as the General Secretary ae the Prison Governors’ Association. He’d goat it oan his sixth attempt. Although he’d heard the General Secretary’s job being referred tae as a poisoned chalice, he’d stupidly dismissed that idiom as sour grapes, coming fae those who’d put themsels forward, bit who’d failed tae get the required vote. Christ, he’d even been quoted as using that wan himsel, efter breaking the previous record fur the maist unsuccessful attempts at staunin fur the post. It hid been the highlight ae his career tae date, when he’d eventually been elected. He’d been oan cloud nine fur at least five minutes. Noo, the initial sweet taste ae recognition and confidence fae his peers tasted like a pishy pair ae sodden knickers. Within weeks ae being elected, Peterheid Prison hid erupted and hid rarely been oot ae the heidlines since. A wee group ae cons, serving long-term prison sentences, hid been continually wrecking the fabric ae the building and assaulting staff, some tae their severe injury. Tae make matters worse, even the governors wur noo oan the receiving end ae the physical assaults. Oan tap ae that, The Prison Officers’ Association, or the POA, as everywan referred tae them as, wur threatening even further industrial action other than working tae rule since wan ae their members lost an eye in a riot up in the cages ae Quarterfield Prison earlier in the year. The world hid gone mad and he, Angus Diamond, wis sitting oan tap ae a simmering, steaming pile ae shite that wis aboot tae explode underneath that smelly arse ae his. He crossed tae wan ae the ermchairs and sat doon opposite the suits wae an expansive, friendly smile splashed across that coupon ae his. He’d listen attentively tae whit Jack Broon hid come up wae tae resolve the Dumfries situation and keep calm throughoot. The presence ae a department brief disturbed him though. Whit the hell wis that aw aboot, he wondered. The last thing he needed wis Peacock crawling up that arse ae his. He’d enough pain there wae his piles.
“So, ye’re busy, Gus?” Jack Broon asked, breaking the ice, nodding across at the precarious pile ae files balancing in his in-tray.
“Ach, nothing’s changed fae when Ah last reported back the concerns ae the Governors’ Association, Jack. The bureaucracy is getting worse by the day. Christ, when Ah first started as a young AG, Ah wis oan the wings and in the halls ninety per cent ae ma time. Noo, Ah’m lucky tae leave this office until it’s time tae go hame at night. This certainly wisnae whit Ah came intae the service in the first place tae dae, Ah kin tell ye that,” he growled, chuffed that the files hid been noticed.
“So, why did you come into the service, Gus?” The Brief asked.
“Whit? Ah, er, y’know, Ah, er, Ah wanted tae gie something back, efter Ah fulfilled ma military career commitments,” he spluttered.
“Yes, it must have been quite a change for you, leaving the comfort of the military prison in Colchester for a draughty Scottish one, Gus,” Peacock crowed drily.
“Aye, well, as heid ae the prison service, Ah’m fully aware ae the stresses attached tae aw the paperwork youse governors hiv tae put up wae, Gus. Ah keep telling boys like Thomas here that ye aw need a break fae it tae be able tae get oan wae whit ye wur aw employed tae dae in the first place,” Jack Broon interjected hurriedly, batting the conversation away fae anything that could turn the atmosphere sour.
“If the service had been run properly at a local level in the first place, then there wouldn’t be the need for all these checks and balances, Jack. At the end of the day, not that we would admit it publicly, but the man management, or rather the lack of it, concerning the management of long term prisoners in Scotland has led to conflict that was unimaginable five or ten years ago. With the abolition of capital punishment, criminals, and prisoners in general, have little regard for obeying petty rules that were introduced in the early eighteen hundreds. The long-term inmates of today are more likely to spend more years in prison than their counterparts in the forties and fifties. Sentences are getting longer. We have prisoners incarcerated with us now that will never, ever, be freed. The management of these people requires a different approach,” The Brief lectured.
“Withoot wanting tae sound as if Ah’m being defensive here, Thomas, bit those so-called inmates ye refer tae ur nothing bit animals, so they ur. We cannae change a sow intae a pig,” The Manager ae the Prison Service replied, oblivious tae the contradiction and the smile, appearing at the side ae The Brief’s mooth. “They ur whit they ur. Mollycoddling the basturts only makes them worse. Gie them an inch, and they’ll take a mile,” he continued, getting a nod ae agreement fae The Governor.
“Yes, well, the events of the past few years have brought the issue out into the public domain. When that happens, it brings politicians…our masters…into the spotlight and the last thing a politician wants, is being in the spotlight, unless it’s about bringing jobs and prosperity to the great unwashed. The Secretary Of State is aware of the difficult job that governors and prison officers have and is appreciative of the dedication, restraint and bravery being shown on a daily basis. He has publicly declared that he’s willing to do his bit to support staff. That’s why we’re now operating the cages up in Quarterfield. He’s more than willing to keep them filled up for as long as it takes, but everyone needs to play their part responsibly. Rehabilitation of offenders is still a statute and we must be seen to be making every effort to ensure that communities are safe, by applying and managing appropriate rehabilitation programmes that are fit for purpose. When some of these so-called animals, as you put it, are finally released, we don’t want them taking revenge on the communities that we’ve sworn to protect in the first place because of the way they’ve been treated under our guardianship. The carrot and stick approach still has resonance with the Secretary of State, Jack, and until parliament gives the go-ahead to exterminate those in your care, then we have to be seen to be offering an alternative path to crime, however distasteful that may seem to the POA membership. As for the governors, it’s only right that they should be expected to take on responsible leadership of the highest order. That means having to take difficult decisions that may not be to everyone’s liking, I’m afraid,” The Brief said soothingly and encouragingly.
Noo, we’re getting tae the point, The Governor thought, as Miss Cattle arrived wae the tea and date buns. The Governor wondered why the hell Jack Broon couldnae hiv passed that diatribe oan himsel, instead ae The Brief coming aw the way fae the Home and Health Department in Edinburgh oot tae Airdrie tae hear the sound ae his ain voice in front ae an audience.
“Aye, these date buns make the journey worthwhile, so they dae. Whit dae ye think, Thomas?” Jack asked The Brief, who wis in the process ae gobbling the last morsel ae his second wan doon that gulping gullet ae his.
“Not as good as my mother’s, but certainly worth a mention in dispatches any day of the week, Gus,” The Brief agreed, smacking they chops ae his, getting an appreciative nod fae The Governor.
“Noo, Gus, back tae the business in haun, eh? This carry-oan wae poor George Crawford? We know it’s a difficult and sensitive situation he finds himsel in, bit it’s no aw ae oor making. Baith sides hiv tae work thegither tae come up wae the best way tae resolve it. Being stubborn isnae the answer, so it isnae,” Jack reminded him.
“Maybe we need tae go back and recap oan where we’re at, Jack, fur the benefit ae Thomas here,” The Governor suggested, nodding across at the date bun excavator.
“Jack has briefed me of the situation, Gus. I’m well aware of all the details.”
“Well, if it’s still awright wae yersel, Thomas, Ah’d still like the opportunity tae air ma views oan behauf ae the Prison Governors’ Association, the body Ah represent,” Angus reminded them. “George Crawford, current governor ae Dumfries YOI and ex-assistant governor ae Polmont Borstal, is a man wae an impeccable track record, who his gied his life, and some wid say, his family, fur the service. While serving as the assistant governor ae Polmont across the festive period ae 1971, his wife and, according tae some scurrilous newspapers, her lover, who jist happened tae be a big-time gangster, wur bushwhacked and shot. The gangster died instantly and George’s dear wife suffered severe gunshot wounds tae her face and neck, disfiguring her fur life. So far, the Glesga polis hiv been unable tae apprehend the perpetrators ae this vicious and deadly assault, despite believing they know who the culprits ur. Jist o’er three months ago, it wis brought tae oor, The Governors’ Association’s, attention, that a number ae thugs…Neds…wur sitting in C hall, the untried hall up in the Bar-L, awaiting trial oan separate, bit none the less, still serious charges. As we noo know, two trials hiv recently concluded. Wan wis fur extortion, in which the said three Neds wur sentenced tae three years each, while in the other trial, which wis far mair serious, two young Neds wur convicted ae blasting two dedicated polis officers in the course ae robbing a bank, wae the intention ae murdering them. You’ve also put another wan ae them, a James Baxter, up here recently fae Dumfries. Despite concerns expressed by the Prison Governors’ Association that the criminal intelligence travelling wae these Neds indicated a strong involvement in the dastardly deed concerning Governor Crawford’s wife, the three convicted extortionists ur noo ensconced doon in Dumfries YOI. Meanwhile, the other two, a John Taylor, who is serving fourteen years, and his partner in crime, a Samuel Smith, serving five years, hiv taken up residence here in Longriggend, despite it being a holding jail fur untried prisoners, the exception being those under the age ae eighteen, who hiv been convicted ae murder and are serving at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. Noo, some people in certain quarters…no me, mind ye…hiv taken this tae be insensitive in the extreme and provocative at best. Despite attempts by us governors tae avoid conflict wae the Scottish Home and Health Department, and The Department in particular, these three extortionist thugs, wur despatched doon tae Dumfries YOI within a few days ae being convicted. Wid ye say that summation hits the nail oan the heid, Jack?” The Governor asked, looking at the heid ae the prison service squirming in the seat opposite him.