Authors: Jimmy Cryans
T
he morning after our return from Glasgow, I phoned John Renaldi. He was so pleased to hear that I was safe, though he almost dropped the phone when I told him I was at Ma’s with Alison. ‘Fuck me, Jim,’ he said, ‘you like to sail close to the wind, don’t ya? You are red hot and the old bill have been turning everyone over looking for you. For fuck’s sake don’t show your face.’
The phone I was using was in my sister’s house, which I entered using the back door as she was only a couple of houses away from Ma’s. As long as I was careful and made sure I wasn’t seen then the risk was negligible, but it was a risk that had to be taken as our options were very limited.
On the Friday evening my sister Olive drove into Newbury to see Christine and to arrange that my boy James would come over to Ma’s on Saturday. It was just so good to see my James again as I had missed him really badly. The true price for choosing a life of crime is the loss of loved ones, particularly children. James found it a bit strange that we
could not go outside to play but we had a great weekend and before we knew it, it was time for him to return home. This would be the last time I would spend with my James. As I write these words almost 34 years have passed and the pain never goes away. That is the price I pay for the life I choose to live.
At nine o’clock on Monday morning I was awoken by the sound of loud banging on the front door of Ma’s house. I had heard that type of noise too many times before to be in any doubt over the callers. I wasn’t mistaken because a voice called out, ‘This is the police, Mrs Cryans. Open the door, we have a warrant.’
I sprang out of bed and as I did so I became aware for the first time that Alison was nowhere to be seen. Standing slightly back from the window I looked into the garden and saw two cops with Alsatians standing a few feet apart and looking up while another two cops were standing near the front gate. I rushed through to the back bedroom and looked into the garden to see another two cops and another two dogs. I assumed there would be probably four at the front door so that made ten in all. I was well and truly caught. I simply returned to my bedroom to await my captors. Game over.
Bursting through the bedroom door, two of them soon had guns pointed right at me. ‘Don’t fucking move, Jimmy boy, you’re nicked.’
I think they were a wee bit taken aback by me lying casually on the bed and they certainly did not expect what I said to them in reply. ‘Hello, guys. Come in and take a seat. I’ve been expecting you’ and with that I was roughly thrown face down and my hands cuffed behind my back.
On the way downstairs one of the cops asked ‘Where is Alison, Jim?’
‘Who?’ I said.
Ma was standing at the bottom of the stairs and heard this exchange. I gave her a quizzical expression to which she responded with the slightest shift of an eye towards the kitchen. Alison was almost an afterthought for the cops and they did not make a search of the house. Alison was actually in the bath when the cops started knocking on the front door and what she did next was very, very cute. Stepping from the bath she pulled open the door leaving the bathroom in full view but stood behind the door. It worked, as a cop did take a cursory glance and assumed it was empty.
I managed to have a brief word with Ma and told her to phone my lawyer in Newbury, Mr Childs, and tell him I was being taken to Newbury nick. One of the coppers said, ‘I shouldn’t bother, Mrs Cryans – he won’t be there very long. We will be taking him to Reading nick to interview him.’
I quickly assumed the position I always did when under arrest. I said nothing and refused to answer anything. Not that it made a lot of difference, because if they were going to verbal me then there was fuck all I could do about it, but at least I had a wee bit of consolation in knowing that cops do not like to get the silent treatment from a prisoner. It makes them have to work that bit harder.
Once we arrived at Newbury police station I was uncuffed and a copper said something that I knew was meant to shake me up a bit: ‘Oh, and by the way, your pal Graham Pierce said to say “hello”.’
As we were going out the front door a car pulled up and Alison got out in the company of my lawyer Mr Childs and her dad, Gordon, who shot me a look that was pure hate. I am sure he was very close to losing his cool and attacking me
there and then, and who could blame him? I would have felt exactly the same in his position.
I only had time to say to Alison, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You’ve done nothing wrong.’ This was a mistake on my part because it allowed the cops to see that I was concerned for Alison. I could have punched myself and probably would have if my hands had been free. And with that brief encounter over I was bundled into the back of the car and we set off on the 17-mile journey to Reading.
At six o’clock that evening I was finally taken from the cell to an interview room. There was no CCTV and no recording facility so everything that was said during interview was handwritten by one of the cops and at the end the accused would be asked to sign the ‘statement’. The big DS said, ‘Right, Jimmy, I am not going to fuck about. We have got you bang to rights and I can assure you that when this is over you will be charged with robbery, assault, possession of various weapons and absconding from lawful custody, and we can make every one of those charges stick. Now while you have a think about what I have just said, you can also have a read of this.’
With that he threw onto the table a dozen A4-sized pages and said, ‘This is a statement written in his own hand by your pal Graham Pierce and he has told us everything and your involvement. We will leave you alone to read it. Here’s a smoke.’ With that they left the room. I knew that their whole strategy this was to get me to make a statement corroborating the one they already had, but there was no way I was going to fall for that old chestnut. I picked up the sheaf of papers they had left and began to read.
The big DS came back into the interview room. ‘Well, Jim, it makes pretty interesting reading and before you say
anything, I have to tell you that Pierce is willing to go into the witness box in court and verify everything he has put in that statement. And in my opinion he will make a very credible witness. So why don’t you do yourself a favour and give us your side of the story? Maybe you are not as black as he would paint you.’
I knew all this had been said to try to pressurise me into making a few admissions and it all sounded very reasonable, but I was too long in the tooth to fall into that wee trap. I said, ‘I have absolutely nothing to say to you and I refuse to take any further part in this interview until I see my solicitor.’
‘I should also make you aware that we have Alison next door and it is our intention to charge her as an accessory to the robbery. Bail will be strongly opposed and she will be remanded to Holloway. So it’s up to you how you want to play this.’
I had expected this but even so it was still very hard as the last thing I wanted was for Alison to be dragged down with me. I knew I was on very thin ice but I also knew that there was nothing to be gained by admitting to anything. I needed time to think and see if I could find a way out – if not for myself then at least for Alison.
After an hour or so I was informed that my solicitor had arrived. He told me that he had been made aware of Pierce’s statement and that I would be charged with, among other things, robbery, and bail would be opposed. He told me to say nothing and that he would do all he could for Alison.
The next day we were duly taken to court. After the charges were read and our solicitor entered pleas of not guilty, we were refused bail and remanded in custody. Alison would go to Holloway and I would be headed for my old stamping ground, Oxford jail. I was able to have a brief word with Alison and I
told her to keep her chin up, that she would get bail in a few days and that I would find an out for her.
I have to say that Alison showed remarkable bravery for someone who had never been in this position. She was barely 19 and had led a pretty sheltered and privileged life before meeting me, yet she never wavered and said to me as they were taking her away, ‘Don’t you worry about me, James. I will be OK. Just you look after yourself.’ It takes real character to react like that under those circumstances and I had total respect for Alison. She showed more bottle than a lot of so called tough guys I knew.
At 4.30 that afternoon I was taken from the cells below the court, handcuffed and placed in a transport van, and driven back to the place I had last seen almost four years before, Oxford jail. Nothing had changed and it was almost as if I had only left the week before. A few of the guys came to my cell to make sure I had everything I needed. These were guys who had almost nothing to their name but would happily and without question share whatever they did have with you. It can be a very humbling experience when you are on the receiving end of kindness like that.
My ma came to visit me and even though it was painful it was great to see each other again. She said that she would arrange with Christine to pick up James and bring him to visit me on the following Saturday. When Christine walked into the visiting room with James, he came running over to me and threw himself into my arms. It was a very emotional moment for me, and I had to work very hard to hold back the tears. James kept asking me what I was doing there and when would I be coming home. I told him that I was working in this new place and would be home soon, but inside my heart was breaking. As the visit came to an end I quietly told Ma
not to bring James to visit me again – it was just too painful for everyone. Perhaps if I had known that it would be the last time I would ever see him, I would not have said that. But of course I did not think for a second that I’d never see my James again. It has now been 33 years since that fateful day and the pain never goes away.
On 14 June I was transported to the Reading crown court. The prosecution said my co-accused had agreed to go into the witness box and give evidence against me. They were confident that his evidence would be believed by the jury and I would be convicted. They would push for the heaviest sentence available. That was the stick – then came the carrot. If, on the other hand, I would plead guilty at the earliest opportunity then the charge against Alison would be dropped and they would not push for a heavy sentence, leaving it entirely to the judge’s discretion. If I pleaded not guilty and was convicted then I would be looking at ten years. If I was to accept the deal on the table I could reasonably expect to receive a sentence of between five and seven years.
For me it all came down to Alison and doing everything I could to make sure she would walk, irrespective of the consequences for me. I wasn’t trying to be noble. It was just the right thing to do – the only thing to do as far as I was concerned. Seven years wasn’t so bad anyway. I could be out in less than five and as I was still only 23 I could live with that. I couldn’t live with taking it to trial and Alison being dragged down with me, so for me it really was an easy decision.
Ten minutes later I was taken upstairs and placed in the dock. Alison was called to stand next to me and finally my co-accused Graham Pierce was brought up. This was the first I had seen him since the day of the robbery. I looked at him
and in a low voice I said just one word: ‘Grass’. He said nothing and avoided my eyes. It was all over very quickly and once the judge had been told that I was entering a plea of guilty, the charges against Alison were dropped.
The judge dealt with Pierce first and after saying that he took note of his co-operation with the police, he sentenced him to four years. He then turned his attention to me and said to me, ‘You have pleaded guilty to a most serious and heinous crime and in the commission of this robbery a degree of violence was used against a man who was quite innocently going about his business at his place of work. There has been no evidence placed before this court today to indicate any remorse on your part for the role you played in this robbery which, in the statement of Mr Pierce, was conceived and planned by you and you alone, and I see no reason for any doubt to be cast on that statement.
‘On the charge of robbery I will impose a sentence of imprisonment of five years and six months and on the charges of assault, carrying an offensive weapon – namely an axe – and absconding from lawful custody you will be imprisoned for six months; the sentences to run consecutively, making a total of six years. Take him down.’
Judges always seem to enjoy saying those last three words after sentencing. Maybe it is some sort of ritual that they have to abide by – I mean, where else was I going to go?
I was fairly pleased with the sentence, which could have been worse, and the object of the exercise had been achieved as far as I was concerned. Alison had walked, and I was feeling just fine. Now it was time to walk the walk and not just talk the talk, but I was absolutely confident that I would be able to do just that. I was 23 years old, as fit as a fiddle, and my mind was as strong and as clear as it had always
been. I was positive and I knew that I would be able to deal with whatever came my way. But unknown to me I was to be truly tested before this week was over and when it came it almost crushed me.
A
ll of the guys welcomed me back to the wing and were keen to know how I had got on at court. They all thought that I had gotten a pretty good result but six years was still six years and I think a few of the guys were surprised by how well I was taking it. ‘Are you all right, Jimmy? You seem very cheerful for a guy who has just got a six stretch.’
‘I am absolutely fine, boys, believe me. I’m just sorry that I couldn’t get a hold of that slag Pierce.’ I had made up my mind long before that day that I was going to remain positive and I would take this sentence in my stride. I had no feelings of regret and my frame of mind was such that even if I was to serve the full six years I would still be out before my 30th birthday! Thoughts of going straight never entered my head. I was a thief and a robber and I took pride in my ‘work’ and enjoyed who and what I was. Going to prison was just something that I accepted as the price that had to be paid for the life I had chosen to live.
A visit had been arranged with my Ma but when she walked
into the visiting room I knew immediately that something was wrong and that it was serious. She had a look on her face that I had only seen when there had been a death in the family and when she sat down and told me what was wrong, that was exactly what it felt like had happened.
The previous day Ma had travelled into Newbury to visit Christine and spend some time with James. When she got to the house she noticed that there were no curtains on the windows and at first she thought that Christine was having a bit of a spring clean. After knocking on the front door and receiving no reply, she made her way around into the back garden and looked through the living room window. The house was empty and all the furniture was gone. Only the bare floorboards remained. The next-door neighbour said that all she knew was Christine and James had moved to America, somewhere in Los Angeles.
Ma almost collapsed on hearing this news and told me she’d spent the last two days in tears and unable to sleep. It had taken all the strength she had to make the journey to the prison and tell me this devastating news. It is very difficult to describe how I felt that day. I can only say that I was numb inside and felt dead. It was as if life itself had been extinguished but I was still conscious. I knew I had lost my boy, perhaps forever, and in truth I don’t think my mind was able to absorb this news. I looked at my ma and I had never seen her like this before. The pain in her eyes was something I will never forget. As well as losing James, who she was absolutely besotted with, Ma also had the burden of breaking the news to me and as I looked at her I realised just how tough this had been and what it had cost her.
Somehow I found the strength to put my own pain on hold and I reached over to Ma. Putting my arms around her, I said,
‘It will be OK, Ma. We will come through this and at least we know that James will have a good life. He will be well looked after. And once we have an address we can write to him and stay in contact. He won’t forget us and we will never forget him.’ My poor wee ma was in floods of tears and it took me everything to hold it together. All too soon the visit was over and when I got back to the wing the guys could see that there was something wrong. I appreciated their concern but told them that I needed some time alone I went to my cell and closed the door.
I will never forget that night and it is very difficult to talk about it even after all these years, but all until the day my ma died, that night in Oxford jail was the worst of my life. The feeling of emptiness was back but way beyond anything I had experienced in the past. I have never felt so alone as I did that night. There were no tears – it was beyond that. The only thing that helped me make it through that night was a little spark of something inside me. It was as if a voice was saying to me, ‘Right, you are not going to let this destroy you. You will not allow this to break you. This is the test and you are going to come through this, so fucking get it together.’
All in all it had been quite a week, but a couple of days after my visit from Ma I knew that I was going to be OK. I was traumatised by the loss of James but I knew that whatever else happened to me during this sentence I would be able to cope. I made a decision that I wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone, be it cons or screws. It would make life quite tough for me at times, but I would do my time and I was willing to pay the price.
Alison continued to write and to visit me but I was aware that she was under tremendous pressure from her mum and dad and I told her that it would be better for everyone if we
called a halt to our relationship. I tried to sugar the pill by saying we could hook up once I was released if we both felt the same way, but I knew the writing was on the wall. The split from Alison was very tough as I had grown to love her with all my heart. She was such a special lady in every way and I have never met anyone quite like her. We only had around six months together but there was no doubt that Alison was the love of my life. Meanwhile Ma continued to visit me. She was a rock and I could rely on her a hundred per cent.
In September 1977 I was moved to Horfield prison in Bristol. I was taken to A wing and given a single cell on the top landing. A few doors along was a guy who I was to become good pals with. Jimmy McGoldrick came from Paisley, just outside Glasgow, and was a real character but a very dangerous man. He was serving an eight-year sentence for cutting and stabbing some guys in a pub brawl.
Jimmy was about 6ft tall with shoulder-length hair and a goatee beard, and more than a passing resemblance to the comedian Billy Connolly. There the likeness ended, although Jimmy could be very funny in an unintentional way, very much the unconscious comedian. He was loud, aggressive and had a hair-trigger temper. Everybody in A wing was terrified of him, including the screws. Every day he would burst into the office shouting, ‘Hey you, turnkey, where is ma fuckin’ mail? If I find oot yer holding it back I’ll fucking do you.’ On his knuckles he had tattooed IRA on one hand and on the other PROVOS. He would sing Irish rebel songs at the top of his voice and this was at a time when the IRA were carrying out bombing atrocities in mainland Britain. The Irish and any sympathisers were hated, but Jimmy just didn’t give a fuck and had no fear. I had no doubt that he was certifiable.
I had been allocated a job in the tailoring workshop and McGoldrick secured me another wee job, clearing the dinner trays from outside the cell doors after meal times. Everyone ate their meals in their cells and this allowed Jimmy and me to collect messages for the guys and pass on tobacco and the like to those on a lockdown. We were also able to cop for any extra food smuggled out of the kitchen.
One morning as I was collecting a guy bumped me and some of the trays dropped from my hands. I said, ‘Hey pal, watch where you’re going.’
‘Fuck you and all the rest of you Jocks,’ he said. He had been one of Bristol’s major drug dealers, was serving a 12-year sentence and really thought he was a big-time Charlie potatoes.
I put the rest of the trays down and said, ‘Right, get back in your peter [cell] and we will sort this out, you fucking mug.’
And mug he was, because he walked past me and into the cell. I was on him in a second and punched him with a vicious hook behind his right ear. As he crashed to the floor I snatched a framed mirror and smashed it on the table. I flipped him over and stabbed a jagged piece of mirror into his face and kept slashing away. He was screaming for me to stop and when I did I saw his face was a mess. It looked like he had lost an eye but I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty as I was in no doubt that had our positions been reversed, he would have done exactly the same to me. Anyway, he had caused this to happen by trying to act the gangster. He obviously thought I was no threat to him – he wasn’t the first and he wouldn’t be the last to make that mistake. I have very seldom started trouble but when it comes my way then I react very quickly and viciously. This usually gives me the advantage and makes up for what I lack in bulk and muscle.
I used a towel to wipe away any blood that was on me and any prints from the mirror, and I told him that if he stuck me in for doing him I would send Jimmy after him. Just as I was leaving the cell Jimmy appeared and immediately sussed what had happened. Jimmy being Jimmy wanted to finish the guy off, but I managed to persuade him that I had done enough damage. He leaned over the guy and told him that if he stuck me in then he would cut his throat, and he meant it.
We pulled the door behind us and I made my way to the tailoring shed. I told a couple of the guys who were solid and reliable what had happened and they ushered me into a storage room where all the new uniforms were kept. I stripped off completely and all the clothes I had been wearing were double-bagged, placed in a large rubbish bin and covered up. Once I had gotten dressed I went about my work as normal.
On returning to the wing at dinner time Jimmy quickly pulled me to one side and told me what had happened after I left. It was an hour or so before the screws discovered the guy I had done and that was only because he had rang the bell in his cell. When they saw the state he was in they immediately rushed him to the hospital wing and the cell was sealed until the police forensic team arrived. Jimmy had been on hand the whole time and he confirmed that as the guy was being carried from the wing on a stretcher the screws kept asking him who was responsible but he never uttered a word.
Jimmy also told me that he had managed to get word to two hospital orderlies to make sure that the guy kept his mouth shut. As Jimmy put it, ‘He’s been told that if he talks then he will leave the hospital in a body bag.’ I was reassured and I could see that Jimmy was absolutely loving every minute. This was right up his street and he was as happy as
a sand boy. No doubt – in a situation like this it is always an advantage to have guys like Jimmy in your corner.
In the end the guy was transferred to an outside hospital for surgery. His face was stitched back together but he did lose the sight in his right eye. He kept his mouth shut though and nothing ever came of it.