by Lee, Jane
I knew we would get them, one by one, and took satisfaction from knowing that they were living in fear and that it was worse for them than it was for me. I was now free and it had all backfired on them. I once believed there was honour among thieves. How naïve I was. I had found out the hard way and now I found it hard to trust anyone except my family and Matt. But those grasses knew we would be coming. I enjoyed my life being back at home but we both wanted them sorted. Now our wounds had healed, it was time for payback. We went out to war and got them back one by one.
The bloke who gave me the information about the robbery in the first place had his businesses destroyed. And then I read in the news that the two boys who were supposed to have come with me on the job had been kneecapped. No one was ever charged. I don’t know anything more than that about those cases but, let’s be honest, that’s exactly what they deserved. An eye for an eye, in my book. A couple of others from their crew got away but that’s snides and grasses for you – they have to be good runners!
Life went on. I was indoors one night with my son and my two Alsatians, Will and Max. The dogs were a big part of my family. I loved them both like they were babies. This particular night Will was in the garden and wouldn’t come inside. Now, these dogs slept in my bed, they sat on my leather settees and only went out to the garden to go the toilet. But Will wouldn’t come in. It was 2.30am and I wanted to go to bed. So I left Will out there and Max and I went to bed. I had been in bed for about half an hour when I heard Will barking and growling, and I knew someone was out there. Whenever I heard my dogs bark, I knew there was someone walking past or coming down the path. But when they growled, it meant danger. Will knew long before me that someone was sneaking around and plotting me up. That’s why he wouldn’t come in. I grabbed my M16 rifle and ran straight downstairs but I was too late. I had a side gate and the intruder had jumped over it, though not before Will bit them. I ran back through the house just in time to see the snoopers jump into a van. There were three of them, all men. I aimed my rifle and shot at them but they were already taking off.
My neighbour heard the noise and came running out of her house just as I fired. She asked me if I wanted her to call the police. She had startled me and, instinctively, I spun around, forgetting I still had the rifle in my hands. I pointed it straight at her and said, ‘Don’t you dare.’ She looked terrified and I suddenly realised what I had done. ‘I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to point the gun at you,’ I said.
She knew I didn’t mean any harm and replied, ‘Oh, Jane, you’re so brave. What would happen if they had burgled me? There is no way I could stand up for myself the way you do.’
I told her the burglars were scum and would stab anyone in their sleep. I hated burglars and I was bang in the mood for a battle with them. The Gran had come out and I was on one. I put a chair on the doorstep and sat there with my rifle in my lap all night waiting, just in case they came back. But nobody came. In the morning the milkman arrived and, when he saw me my gun, he said, ‘Fucking hell! Who are you expecting? Jessie James and his gang? It’s like the bleedin’ Wild West. I deserve danger money coming here.’ He was OK, my milkman. I used to sell him beer and fags when I was doing the beer run.
‘Three men tried to burgle me last night.’
‘They must have a death wish or something,’ he said as he carried on with his milk round.
I went back inside, as I was looking a bit of a nutter, all tooled up out on my doorstep in broad daylight. But I stayed awake for three nights running waiting for them to come back. People work all their lives for what they have got and the likes of these scummy burglars wanted to take it away from them. Some things have value beyond money in a family home and can never be replaced. These scum would sell anything for a quick fix of crack. Well, I hated them. Go and rob a bank or go and nick from a shop if you need money but don’t go into ordinary homes.
By the end of my vigil I was so tired that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, though I wouldn’t take my eyes off the front path for a moment. I was in warrior mode and fully armed. I was so armed up I could have taken on a small army if it came down my path. Let’s be honest here, it might not have been burglars. It could have been the enemy, as I had done a few scum in my time who might want payback. Bring it on, I thought to myself. I was ready and waiting. If they had come back, I would have given them a war and they would never have left alive.
I was so hungry and a little woozy from the sleep deprivation so I put a treacle pudding on the gas – the kind you boil in the tin. I went back to my lookout duties and was waiting for it to finish cooking when all of a sudden I heard an almighty bang in the kitchen. I thought I’d been bombed but, when I dashed into the room, all I could see was treacle pudding dripping off everything. It was all over the ceiling, all over the sink and the cooker too. Everything was covered in treacle. I must have dropped off to sleep and it had boiled dry and then exploded. I was too shattered to clean it up so I just threw the pot in the sink and went to bed. I knew by now the intruders were not coming back. They hadn’t got the balls. This kind of scum only crept around when they thought you were asleep or they stabbed you in the back. They probably thought I had lost my touch when I was shot and now fancied their chances. Well, when I shot at them as they ran away, they found out my touch had just got a whole lot touchier.
When I woke up, I made a point of apologising again to my neighbour for frightening her with my rifle. I told her I was always there for her and her family if ever they needed me. She told me that she knew I hadn’t meant to frighten her and that she was OK. ‘You are a bit nutty, Jane, but I like you, girl,’ she said and we had a good laugh about the treacle pudding too.
By now Mum wasn’t very well. In fact, she’d had cervical cancer for several years and, despite the treatment, she was just getting worse. She was also suffering with breathing problems and Dad had his hands full looking after her. Mum had started to suffer with the disease well before I was shot but, nevertheless, she had often looked after John and the dogs when I was inside. We’d had our differences in the past but that time she did me proud. Now she was in a bad way and I was being extra careful to stay out of trouble for her sake. My family just couldn’t have handled any more problems but I still needed to make money. I didn’t have qualifications, I hadn’t long been out of prison and hopes of somebody employing me were slim. So I had to support John the only way I knew how. I was still ducking and diving for a living but it wasn’t easy. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t getting rich and I wasn’t robbing people’s homes or causing misery with hard drugs like crack and heroin. That was not my game. Yet I knew I was doing wrong and by now I wished I could find another way.
One day I was going to pick up a bit of Billy and on the way back my worst fears came true. Two police cars pulled me over and I gave the questioning officer a dodgy name because I knew they had my card marked.
‘Really,’ he said. Where is Jane then?’ It was all innocent-like but they knew. They searched me, found the speed and I was arrested. I also had a joint’s worth of puff in my pocket and, in the end, I would be charged with possession of puff, possession of Billy and driving while on a three-year ban. I immediately thought I’d been set up again. The car I was in was not in my name so how did they know it was me? At least when they asked where I got the Billy from, I was ready. I said, ‘The police gave it to me. Honest.’ They were not amused. They must have thought they had heard it all but this time it was actually the truth.
I just didn’t have the heart to tell the family I’d been nicked again. They had been through enough but, as I came close to my court date, returning to Snaresbrook to have my case heard, I knew I was going down. What a mess I’d made of everything. Then came a real bombshell. My mum died of cancer. She was just 54. It was a sad, sad time. I realised how her hard life had taken its toll on her, especially in her early years as an 18-year-old mum with three kids and three jobs. But Mum and I had got closer again and, although I had spent much of my
life not getting on with her, we had made our peace towards the end. She had been there for me when I was away. She wrote to me every day.
At court the charge relating to the speed was dropped as I produced the forensic bags to my solicitor and explained what had happened. They had denied giving the speed to me. But how had I got the forensic bags then? True, it wasn’t the same speed that they had given me but they couldn’t prove that. So the case was adjourned for a couple of weeks for it all to get sorted out. I was bailed to reappear and was allowed to go home. To be honest though, I didn’t have a good feeling. Even though the charges were not that serious, I was still on a two-year suspended sentence, which could be enforced if I did anything wrong during that two years. I cursed myself, as I realised this little bit of bother could have big consequences.
I thought I was definitely going to do time but I still couldn’t bear to tell Dad because he had so much on his plate with Mum’s death. He didn’t need me giving him more grief than he already had. I just wanted to forget about everything but it was weighing on my mind. My John was only 15 and that was my main worry. He had grown up fast and I knew he could look after himself but he was still a boy and I was feeling so guilty. Even though I hadn’t been sent down yet, I cheered him up by buying him a Porsche and a Rolex watch. He had already learned to drive at a nearby driving centre equipped with traffic lights and roundabouts. He paid a couple of quid and could stay there as long as he like. John loved it, became a good driver and was over the moon with the Porsche. I had already bought him an Escort XR2 and found the white Porsche 944 in the local paper. It was beautiful. The roof could be taken off, it had leather seats and it was my way of getting him ready for what I knew was coming. Unfortunately, things went a little bit wrong.
I told him he wasn’t allowed to drive on the roads because he would get pulled. But did he listen to me? No. But I couldn’t blame him. He was 15 and behind the wheel of a Porsche. I blamed myself for the inevitable. He was out, loving it, when I got a phone call from the police.
‘We’ve arrested your son. Can you come to Romford police station, please, Miss Lee?’ the officer said.
I phoned Tracey and we both went to hear the story. John had been chased and arrested trying to get away. It wasn’t too hard for the police to spot him in a white Porsche but, before they could get near him, he pulled over, threw the keys out of the car and legged it with his mate who had been in the passenger seat.
When I arrived at the police station, I was taken into an interview room and questioned about the car. ‘Where did a 15-year-old boy get a Porsche from?’ one of the officers asked.
‘His dad bought it for him,’ I said. ‘I bought him a new pair of trainers so his dad had to go one better and buy him a Porsche.’
‘Where did he learn to drive like that? It took my best drivers to catch him,’ the officer said.
‘His dad taught him.’
‘And where does his dad live?’
‘Somewhere in Kent,’ I said.
‘Where in Kent?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know, officer. I take full responsibility though because John shouldn’t have been driving it unless he was in the Cardrome and I should have stayed with him.’
So they gave John a caution and impounded the car at a car pound at Upminster police station. They said they wanted to check out the paperwork on it and said I could pick it up in a couple of days. Well, a week went by and I hadn’t heard from them. So I phoned up the police station and they said I could pick it up on Monday but I was in court on Tuesday and I wasn’t going to wait. I didn’t have time. I knew I was going away and, if I didn’t get this car now, I was not going to get it back so me and a mate went to get it from the pound.
The police station was closed so we went around the back to their pound. Luckily, the gates were open and the Porsche was sitting in sight. We didn’t have the keys because John had thrown them out of the car when he was arrested so I phoned the AA. I was now in the police car pound with the AA man and my mate when a police officer came out the back door of the station to see what was going on.
‘It’s OK, officer,’ I said. ‘It’s all been authorised.’ The officer duly got in his car and left us to it. My friend couldn’t believe it.
‘You’ve got some bottle, girl,’ she said under her breath as the AA man – who also didn’t know what was really going on – took the numbers from the barrel of the key locks and went to get me a key cut.
‘Look,’ I said to my friend, ‘if I don’t get this car today, I might not be able to get it back again, so needs must, girl.’ Between me and the AA man, we got the car on the road. I treated him to a nice few quid for helping me.
On that Saturday night I got in John’s Porsche and went for the freedom ride of my life, knowing in my heart that on Tuesday night I would back behind bars. I got myself all done up, filled the tank and went out and just drove. I drove all night. I raced anyone who was game. I mean, I was in a Porsche and, in my eyes, only a Ferrari could beat me and I won every race I got into. That drive made me happy and took my mind off my troubles. I felt as free as a bird.
On Sunday I packed all my prison stuff for court. I made sure everything was safe at home and that John understood the situation. That was the hardest part for me. But he was acting like a man by then and that helped a lot. I still hadn’t told my family what was going on. I just didn’t have the heart. I’d been so busy making sure everything was sorted for John. At last I went over to Shell’s and asked her to come out with me and back at my place I broke the news that I was due in court the next day.
‘I’m going down, Shell. I’ve been lucky so far but this time I can sense my luck has run out.’ I told her all the details and she said I wouldn’t go down but I knew the suspended sentence was not going away. ‘I hope you’re right, Shell,’ I said, smiling, but I knew she was wrong.
The next morning I was all packed and ready to go. I had plugged a bar of puff up my crutch. That may not sound nice but it would make life a lot mellower inside. If I was going down, I was going down in style and I drove to Snaresbrook crown court in the Porsche with Shell and Tracey. When we got there, my barrister said I was looking at a community-service sentence, getting my hopes up a little bit. But that was the end of the good news. As soon as we were in the court room, the police handed the judge a note. While he was reading it, he didn’t look too impressed. He kept glancing from the sheet of paper in his hand to me. My barrister started to talk but the judge just told him to be quiet. He turned to me and said he knew my barrister was going to try to convince him not to give me a custodial sentence but that it was not going to work. I glanced up at Shell and Tracey in the public gallery and winked at them. I knew I was going down and needed to be strong.
The judge continued. He said I was a very dangerous woman. He then said he was sentencing me to six months for driving on a ban and three months for possession of a Class B drug – that was the puff. Then he threw the book at me – I had one month left to go of that suspended sentence but he could invoke the whole two years. And he did. In all, I would serve two years and nine months, all to run consecutively. I was banned from driving for another three years and would have to retake my test. He had given me the maximum punishment he could. I looked at my sister again, waved her and Tracey goodbye and then I was led to the cells under the court to await the van to take me back to Holloway to start my sentence.
I must be honest, I was shocked – not that I let it show. But two years and nine months. I thought I’d get about a year. It was April 2000 and I’d had a year and 11 months of freedom. But now I had got a longer stretch than I had received when I was first sentenced.
11
BACK INSIDE – HER MAJESTY’S PRISONS EAST SUTTON PARK AND COOKHAM WOOD
Anyone who thinks he can harm my boy is going to get buried today.
When I got to Holloway, I knew nearly everyone. I’d got the nine-ounce bar of puff, which was to come in very handy. I had hidden it in the o
nly place where the screws couldn’t or wouldn’t search. I must say, it was a lot easier knowing that I was going down, as I’d sorted everything out first. This time it didn’t feel like I’d been dragged off the street and landed in prison unprepared.
I had to laugh because all I’d talked about in prison was when I was going to get out and what I was going to do. Prisoners all talked about how they were going to get a man and what they were going to do to him. And me being me, I was telling the girls before I left Holloway last time that I was going to have non-stop sex. As it turned out, I had been out for nearly two years and didn’t even kiss a man. Matt and I weren’t together like that and I didn’t want to be with anyone else. Not that my prison mates knew that and the first thing they wanted to know was all about my sex life. I lied. I told them that I hadn’t stopped having sex since the last time I saw them. ‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘We couldn’t get enough of each other – morning, noon and night. We were doing it in the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom.’ After all, it was what they wanted to hear and I think it cheered them all up.
The day after my arrival I was moved to East Sutton Park prison near Maidstone in Kent. By now Shell had told Dad what had happened and, when I phoned him, he was gutted. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Jane?’ he said. ‘I could have stood up and spoke to the judge for you.’
‘Dad,’ I said, ‘the judge wouldn’t even let my barrister talk for me. The police gave him a letter and nothing could have saved me because of my suspended sentence. I’m sorry, Dad. I know you’ve been through enough with Mum dying and that’s why I didn’t want to worry you any more. You’ve been through enough with me too.’