Authors: Matthew Formby
Someone was walking back down the long corridor. An officer opened the cell's little sliding door used face-to-face conversations.
"What do you want?"
"Please can you tell me what I'm being charged with?"
"You know what you're being charged with."
"No, I don't. Can I see a lawyer please? Or an advocate? I have Asperger's syndrome. I need someone to put forward my views because I have communication problems. And can I make a phone call?"
"Yes, you'll get those opportunities later. Just be patient and wait your turn. We've got other people to deal with too."
The officer closed the face door and marched off. Luke gave the police officer's words the benefit of his doubts and tried to get to sleep on the mat on the floor. He turned many times but he could not. Then some minutes later a passing officer after looking through the spyhole in the door at him, shut off his light, and Luke in relief thought he would now get some sleep. But he felt hours had passed when he still was wide awake. The alcohol in his system was making him restless and he knew not what to do. The dreadful fear struck him of being left here for days, for no one knew he was here. Not knowing what was going to happen drove him to behave more boldly than he would normally have. He again banged on the doors.
"Get me a lawyer! I was told I'd get a lawyer! It's my legal right to have one. If you don't get me one I'm going to sue you."
No one answered and he began to bang his heads on the walls in the hopes the sound might make them relent on their decision to ignore him. Still no one came and he continued to bang his head in the hope it would render him unconscious. At last he gave up and turned instead to exercise, running on the spot for five minutes then performing a restless succession of sit ups and press ups. His body was now exhausted but the primal fear inside him that his survival was at risk meant he still could not sleep.
He had little choice but to spend the hours reminiscing about people he had known, even many years ago, all the while preparing for his doom. He wished Laura or Jolly could speak for him in this dark hour. Had a capable advocate been able to speak to the police, they could have told them Luke would not usually hit his head against a wall and that due to his having eaten gluten, he was suffering in conjunction with alcohol, a natural feeling of heightened aggression: especially considering the unpredictable environment he found himself in. Over the years, hundreds of people had died in police custody as a result of mistreatment: many of them learning disabled, with special needs, physically impaired or mentally ill. Not being given a chance to explain oneself, whether it was one's immediate physical needs or a protestation of one's innocence had led to a shameful litany of deaths: so called accidents occurring in cells; suicides in the days following release from custody.
Come morning, when he had finally managed to get a meagre two hours of sleep, he was told he could go and no charges were being pressed.
"You're lucky, son. The man who got pushed over thinks that since you hurt yourself more than him you don't need any more justice. Don't behave like an idiot like this again. You won't get away with it next time."
"But why didn't I get a lawyer or a phone call?"
"Those only need to be provided if you're charged."
"But I needed to call someone at least, I have Asperger's syndrome. I was terrified at being put in that cell, I banged by head loads of time. I really hurt myself."
"That was your choice," the custody sergeant said and looking at his inferior officers, he directed them to take Luke home.
"It was three men who were chasing me that led to it happening," said Luke. "I only knocked the ticket officer over by accident. These men were threatening me and were going to beat me up. I can hardly feel my wrist now. One of them twisted it so much."
"Just go home, Luke. Sober up and don't do this again."
Luke was led away and travelled home with his two escorts in gloomy silence.
XXXV
The next day, unable to do almost anything with his right hand - from washing the pots to using it to dress himself - he went to a hospital. After an X-ray he found out his wrist had been broken and he was given a splint to put it in. For the next few weeks he would struggle to do almost anything and was in constant pain. How someone could get away with such violence Luke did not understand.
A week passed and Luke felt so lonely though he did not know why. It may have been because his father was half descended from Irish immigrants - Bruno had told Luke the Irish were lonely souls which was why they talked so much. He had got into the habit of calling the Samaritans for support, often on his mobile phone. Having no idea of how much it was costing he was blissfully calling as much as he needed, his emotions being very frayed. Then his phone bill arrived. He had almost bankrupted himself. He had no choice but to borrow money from his mother or his sister, Grace, the two kindest with their funds. He always paid them back, he was a man of honour but it played on his mind every day he was in debt. To keep his spending down he regularly shopped for ingredients to make bulky meals that could be reheated as leftovers.
When he went food shopping, foremost in Luke's mind were recent awareness campaigns. The one that stuck in his mind most was Jamie Oliver's drive to get people to eat ethically reared pork and fresh food that was free from additives. Luke would always try to make his own food but after a long, hard day he would sometimes pick something cheap up to eat. Unfortunately the options for thrifty dining around four or five in the afternoon were often limited. If he wanted a cake or a pastry, all the local bakeries had shut and the ones in the supermarkets were choc-a-bloc with E numbers. Another publicity campaign that caught his attention was that of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's to get people to eat sustainable fish. There were organisations like Oxfam, too, who asked people to buy fair trade.; and people who cared for the environment released articles advising people to buy organic to preserve the land's biodiversity. Luke tried his best to be as ethical as possible. He once even subscribed to the Ethical Consumer magazine.
He made an effort not to buy too many electronic products. Unlike a lot of people he did not want to succumb to the hype advertisers created. To rush out to buy every latest must-have consumer item was stupid in his mind. For a start, they often broke and you were left clueless as to what to do. At least with manual items you knew where you stood. The emissions from electric gadgets were significant too: he had learned that from reading the Ethical Consumer magazine who graded manufacturers and products according to their environmental damage. He enjoyed doing his bit. Nevertheless, it never failed to hit home to him how despite all his efforts and the even greater ones of his sister Bridget, most people did not bother. Even in his own family the general rule of thumb was food was bought for its cheap price; all other factors played second fiddle. For ninety-nine percent of people, Luke was certain their main priorities in life were little more than making more money and doing whatever made them happy. If being ethical required a lot of thought and some sacrifices, most people would not care. Luke had overheard uneducated people in supermarkets moan, "I don't want that. It's organic crap," as though it was embarrassing to have a label of distinction on them. He wondered if it might be better if foods that were not organic had a label reading "not grown naturally": then it would be the bad foods that would be labelled humiliating by fools.
On the other hand, all it would take for everyone to pull their weight would be for supermarkets and grocery shops to not offer unethical products at all. But of course people would argue that was not freedom. It would cost more. People wanted their annual flying holidays to Spain, Greece or some other far flung destination.
So what is freedom, Luke would wonder. Was freedom having the right to be selfish and to put the survival of the human race in jeopardy? The planet could outlive humans. What was overlooked by the careless was that humans needed to preserve the natural conditions necessary for its own species' survival - which happily, done properly, would preserve the other diverse species in the world too. Some people would always remain sceptical of man-made climate change but they usually had never lived it; their arguments would fall flat with the flooded citizens of New Orleans or the polar bears losing the very ground they needed to exist: the ice of the Arctic. Neither did they understand that most think-tanks, organisations and individuals arguing man-made climate change was not happening were being funded by oil companies.
A few brave souls had recently occupied coal power stations in an attempt to stop them generating power. It was a noble mission as coal emissions were some of the most dangerous of all in heating the atmosphere to lethal levels. Yet most people, as they always have, would keep quiet and assume the protesters had too much time on their hand or would not achieve anything. It was not true since all acts of protest, even the ones that failed, achieved something: they were an act, and actions spoke louder than words. Even if the action did not succeed it was the beginning of a dialogue which could be extended; later protests could follow and awareness would spread. From what he had read Luke gathered that in the initial stages people always sniggered and dismissed ideas; it had been so in the most spectacular revolution of them all, the American one.
Though he closely followed campaign groups and had donated funds to some, Luke did not usually get involved directly. He admired people who did and wished more people would. However when he himself got involved his Asperger's Syndrome, specifically difficulties with facial expressions and processing communication, meant people did not feel him. They were not convinced of his passion because his face did not easily betray what it felt. On demonstrations he could stick out like a sore thumb and might not best represent a cause in his opinion. He was not particularly good at making phone calls, arranging meetings or even asking questions of others and so he did not feel he could offer much to a group. In any case, Luke had noticed that many political groups - whether mainstream or protest movements - would too often be reduced to petty internal politics. Was the best way to achieve something alone?
Most people had their minds set and were not likely to budge in their positions. Too many people focused only on one issue and could not see the big picture. Luke concluded all that generally could change a person was experience. If he believed in anything it was that people should walk a mile in another man's shoes; to become familiar with other paths beside their own. To live in one place all your life, to mingle with one set of people, was to limit yourself. A favourite television show of his was Wife Swap. It followed real wives exchanging families for a week and imposing their rules on a very different household. Living a week in an alien home with altogether different values brought unique insights; people learned what was lacking in their lifestyles in unexpected ways. Nobody was perfect and nobody was without value: that was Luke's opinion.
On his shopping trip today Luke remembered his eureka moment on his vacation in Wales and without delay he bought a new one at a pharmacy. He purchased replacement blades too. He spent a lot more than he had used to on the razor, believing quality most definitely trumped financial considerations. His face after all was something people saw every day. That evening he went home and lathered himself with his foam, then tried his new razor. He cut himself twice - but only slightly, and far less painfully than he was accustomed to doing. A smile spread on his cheeks as he felt the smoothness of its action. It bore no relation to his old instrument. It was just as he had seen on the television; and how strange that was, so many adverts being false after all.
"Why did I spend so many years hurting myself?" he said to himself. "I'm ashamed to think so many people judged me by the unsightly cuts on my face." Bristles of hair would escape his old razor too, another sight for sore eyes. This was another sting Luke thought social workers should have to their bow. Even support workers perhaps. Why could they not recommend personal hygiene tips and do a check of the grooming habits of people they supported? Blast it! thought Luke. How I wish I could come up with all my ideas at once - but they come when they like. And that was precisely why people like Luke could have benefited from the kind of support he had imagined. Not that it mattered much. With outrageous cutbacks in government funding for social services, the amount of cases each worker took on had increased astronomically. As a result, few provided regular meetings or individual support anymore. They had been forced by austerity to become secretaries, serving only to sign forms, call numbers and arrange appointments and places for clients to go.
Returning home later, Luke still felt outraged about what the head commissioner of the local NHS was doing and so he wrote an e-mail to Jolly. He gave it the title: "Is there justice?" - and in it he wrote:
Dear Jolly,
The person caring for me at the moment, Hazel Fairfax, the Director of
Mental Health Commissioning, has pressurised me to accept a social services
assessment before I get to see a report of an assessment of me. Me and my my mother were promised we would be allowed to see this assessment ages ago. On Monday my mum and I are meeting Hazel and she won't show us what the report says I need in terms of care, not until we get there. I've contacted Mind's free legal service and Liberty's free legal service a week ago and neither responded. Where's the justice?
Luke
I hope she listens, Luke thought to himself. She is my only hope.
XXXVI
The day of the meeting came and Luke and his mother drove to the assessment centre in the neighbouring town of Werry. At the meeting the report was produced to Luke and Samantha like a bomb-shell - and they struggled to read it quickly. The head of commissioning and the psychologist specialising in Asperger's syndrome present both had already had a plan in their minds. They wanted Luke to be placed in a group home for people with Autism. Samantha quickly repudiated this ridiculous suggestion, pointing out that she had already explained despite Luke's frequent suicidal ideations and profound misery with his life at the moment, group living was entirely unsuited to him. She also explained once again, as she had so many times, he did not enjoy frequent contact with care workers and was highly intelligent and independent. Yes, he needed help - but not that kind. She successfully argued he required a more person-centred care approach and therefore it was agreed the local NHS would place him in a group being trialled in a neighbouring borough; the group was for people with Asperger's syndrome who had significant emotional problems too such as depression or anxiety. It seemed ideal for Luke and his mother and him finally felt change was coming.