Throw Them to the Wolves
I’ve had a decade of prison and I’ve never even come close to having a nicking. I don’t recall even having a telling off – I’ve just tried to do my sentence the right way. Do my own time. I don’t kiss the Kanga’s arses – but I try to treat everybody with respect – staff and prisoners alike. So far, it has worked out for me. However, there is no getting away from the fact that I am here at the pleasure of Her Majesty. On the off chance that I might allow myself to become complacent, there are periodic shots across the bow to remind me of my station in life. These take the form of searches, from a quick rub down to enhanced, or strip searches.
Quotas apply when groups of men are moving to or from their places of work or activity – one in 5 or one in 10 – whatever the quota for the day will be subjected to a rub down. There are myriad reasons for being subjected to an enhanced or strip search and at this stage I’ve had scores of them. There is the random variety, when the Ministry of Justice’s computer fires out my prison number for a mandatory drug testing in the lottery of urine. Part of the process involves a search to ensure there are no bags of urine or adulterants concealed to beat the piss test. Although there seems to be an old charter or ancient tradition which dictates that the prisoner must accuse the testing officer of ‘taking the piss’.
It’s weird that I still get nervous when I am handing over a urine sample -even though I know there can be nothing in it. It’s like being pulled by the police when you haven’t had a drop to drink, you’re still worried. Perhaps that glass of wine I had 2 nights ago might have somehow fermented and exploded in potency just as I put my lips to the breathalyser. Is that just me? The other ‘random’ search can occur after a visit – there may be a quota that the Kanga’s need to fill – e.g. if there are 40 prisoners on a visiting session then they must carry out enhanced searches on 10% or 4 men. I have been told on more than one occasion that I was selected ‘randomly’ because they knew I would be compliant and that it was unlikely that I would have anything contraband anyway. Don’t mistake this as the Kangas not looking for smuggled items, but when they are targeting somebody based on intelligence or observation, it helps to call the names of a group of men together. If 4 men are chilled and compliant it makes it more obvious when the guy with something to hide starts to kick off. Plus, he will find it harder to claim he is being targeted or victimised if he is part of a group.
But the most disturbing and disconcerting strip search I ever underwent was an enhanced cell search triggered by intelligence received. It was a new experience for me as it happened very recently. I was at work, minding my business went two Kangas appeared and asked me to return to the wing with them. It felt like being summoned to the principal’s office all over again. I knew the 2 Kangas in question, decent enough lads, never had an issue with them. I have been in this prison longer than they have been in the service, but that’s neither here nor there really. As we walked they told me I was going to be cell searched and that they were acting on intelligence received.
“Inside or outside?” I asked, they were not really obliged to tell me – but one of them shrugged and said, “inside intelligence mate.” That meant that it was somebody inside the prison who had told security that I had something or was up to something illegal. Outside intelligence usually takes the form of police information, an intimidated witness or a pissed off partner.
We landed back at my cell and they started to read the caution, “authorised by the governor… Illicit items…”. When it comes to strip searching there is another ancient charter or tradition which states than an instruction to strip by a Kanga must be answered with the line, “aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?”. But on this day I really wasn’t in the humour. I didn’t wait around to be told what to do. I started to kick off my trainers and handed them over. Then one by one I removed each item of clothing before I handed it over to the Kangas to be scrutinised. Finally, I removed my boxer shorts and stood bollock naked in front of these 2 lads. Bless them, I realised that they appeared to be more uncomfortable than I was. As I handed over the boxes I said, “there is one consolation at least. When I get stripped in prison I don’t ever wonder if there might be a happy ending!”.
That got a chuckle out of the lads, then satisfied they told me I could get dressed again at which point I was ushered from my cell before they got to work. As I waited outside for 25 minutes I could hear banging’s, scrapings and clattering’s as my possessions and furniture were moved and searched. Finally, I was allowed back into my cell. There were a couple of items that they had laid out on my table that they were concerned about – I had a simple explanation for each of them and the Kangas were satisfied. They removed my stereo and DVD player to be x-rayed at the have their storage capacity checked.
For a month prior to mine, there had been searches up and down the wing and a number of guys had been spun. It had all started when a fellow resident, let’s call him ‘Roland’, had been searched a month earlier and a memory stick had been discovered in his cell. Suddenly it all clicked, the Kangas had been checking the storage on my electricals to see if they tallied up with this memory stick! But I wondered how they would have put my electricals together in this mess – as I said earlier, I have never been on the radar for anything dodgy. I may have had my answer a week later, when all proceedings against ‘Roland’ were suddenly dropped. Roland strategy may have been to throw meat at everybody else’s door when the wolves were outside his. If it was, it worked.
