Once Upon a Crime

by Jimmy Cryans

  I pointed out to him that the statements he and his pals had made were lies and that it was not the case that I had deliberately ran them over but that they had attacked me that night. He said he knew that to be the truth and that the two of them had been half-drunk. If they had been sober they would never have thought about tackling me. He said the coppers had been very insistent that he press charges and practically dictated what he was to write in his statement.

  Whether there was any truth in his allegations regarding the role the cops had played in this was really irrelevant. He had admitted that both he and his pal had been the instigators. Before he left he apologised for the grief he had caused and he also said how sorry he was for the incident involving my Cheryl and Lesley. He admitted that he had shouted abuse at them and added that he had not told the cops that I was armed with a knife when I had come to Danny’s door and got a hold of him. Perfect!

  I made an appointment to see Marco and produced the tapes. ‘I think these may be a wee help to us, Marco,’ I said.

  He listened to the tapes and with new respect said, ‘You are quite a boy, Jim.’ He then added with great understatement, ‘Yes, I think we may be able to do something with these.’

  The day duly arrived for the hearing and Marco immediately asked for an adjournment to the judge’s chambers with the prosecuting counsel. After about 30 minutes they reappeared and Marco motioned for me to come into the foyer. They had played the tape and he had asked for all charges to be dismissed. The prosecutor had been loath to see me walk away completely and said he would agree to a deal where I would plead guilty to a technical assault by careless driving. The judge said that if I was to agree to that then he would admonish me, a slap on the wrist really. I agreed and it was a done deal. I walked away a free man and the cops were not best pleased.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Perhaps the strain of the attempted murder charges had been the cause of Lesley’s increasingly distant behaviour. Now I was free, I thought, maybe she would revert to the Lesley of old. But that was not to be the case and by 2007 she no longer even wished to go out much. I would sometimes have to go to various family celebrations alone and I was at a loss as to what to do. Lesley would not communicate with me. I know that she did worry about money and it would be fair to say that our finances were not what they had been, now that I had stopped doing the type of ‘work’ that had previously allowed us to live quite comfortably. Lesley had always been a worker and continued to bring wages into the house. I also had various earners, but there were times when money was tight.

  While I acknowledged that it is important to have enough money to be able to live and hopefully, enough to live a relatively comfortable lifestyle, I was not one of those guys who sees money as the be all and end all. For me the quality of life is measured by the values and the set of rules that you live by. I am talking about things like loyalty, respect, love of friends and family, generosity of spirit and for me the true measure of a person is how they react under pressure when times are hard. Are still able to live by those sets of rules? If you are the type of person who measures everything and everyone in a financial way then you are really a very shallow and sad individual, the type of person who knows the cost of everything and the value of nothing. I use money as a tool that allows me to live in a certain way, but that is all it is and I have always been very wary of anyone who puts the value of money before anything else. In my experience these type of people are never to be fully trusted and have no real moral compass. They are the type who would sell their soul if the price was right and they would certainly give no second thought to selling you out, because to people like that you are nothing more than a commodity with a price tag and a sell by date.

  It would be fair to say that by the summer I was under a wee bit of pressure because of the situation at home. I suppose I was afraid that I was losing Lesley. I was still very much in love with her and it was tearing me up to see that she was now no longer the same woman. In August 2007 I was approached to do a robbery. At first I declined but a week or so later I was approached again and this time I agreed to take a look at the target. The premises was a pub/restaurant/ nightclub complex and I saw that it was do-able. I decided to go ahead with the robbery, scheduled to take place on the morning of Monday 3 September. The details had been passed to me: the method of entry, where the office with the safe was located and who would be there. But as was usual whenever I was doing a bit of ‘work’, I made my own observations and devised my own plan. I was too long in the tooth to trust to someone else. At the same time, I did incorporate the details that had been given to me.

  I was told the prize would amount to between £20,000 and £25,000 but this would prove to be wide of the mark. On the morning of the robbery I made my way to the target disguised as a workman and entered by a rear service door. I walked up a concrete stairway and stopped to put on a balaclava and remove my jacket, underneath which was a boiler-suit. I took a small hand gun and a stun gun from the bag I was carrying and burst into the manager’s office.

  The guy was sitting at his desk and it would be fair to say was terrified when I made my appearance. I shouted at him to do as he was told and he would not be hurt. Once his initial shock wore off he then did something that I have to give him bundles of credit for.... he decided to have a go. Now, this was very brave but, in my opinion, also a very foolish course of action. I allowed him to grab my gun hand and simply pressed the small Taser I was holding in my other against his shoulder. He was incapacitated very quickly. I take no pride in this – it has always been my policy to try to avoid any physical confrontation because the name of the game is to secure the prize and get away. But I will hold my hands up and admit that if any resistance is offered then I do not hesitate to use force. Quite simply, there is more than the prize at stake – there is also my liberty. If it means using a bit of force to prevent me being captured and facing a long prison stretch, then really it is no contest.

  I quickly emptied the safe, but I could tell at a glance that it was well short of the £25,000. I then left and walked back along the corridor to the rear staircase. On the first landing I removed the balaclava and reached into the stud-fastened breast pocket of the boiler suit for the pair of clear glass spectacles that would form part of my next disguise, along with a flat cap and a high-visibility jacket. The specs were not there and I realised they must have worked free during the struggle. I had to make a split-second decision on whether to go back or not. I had not encountered anyone else in the time I had been on the plot but I was aware that there were at least another half-dozen or so people on the premises and if I was to encounter any of them, things could very quickly go pear-shaped. I decided to take my chances.

  From entering the premises until leaving with the prize had taken less than 90 seconds and, apart from the missing spectacles, everything had gone as planned. Even the intervention of the manager had been factored in during the planning stage. It was the main reason I was armed with the stun gun. Yet a bad feeling was lurking at the back of my mind and I instinctively knew that this would have a bad ending. But it was too late now and I would just have to make the best of it.

  I lay low after the blag and kept in touch with the guy who had put the job up to see if he had heard anything in regard to the missing specs. He seemed to have an inside line and told me that there had been no mention of the specs or the mobile phone that I had deliberately left as a red herring.

  Just over two weeks later I was arrested in the car by two jeeps of armed response cops in full riot gear. They carried laser-sighted machine pistols and were accompanied by two cars of armed serious crime detectives. They’d had me under a ready-eye all that day and swooped as I left the supermarket car park with Ma. My DNA had been found with the spectacles and it looked like I was fucked.

  I made it plain to Lesley that she did not owe me anything and that I would understand if she wanted to walk away. I was hoping that she would refuse my offer because, no matter wha
t else, my love for her had never faltered. Lesley said that she would stand by me and I believed she meant it. Time would tell. In the meantime I would try to live as normally as possible and even though I was under a tremendous amount of stress, I tried to keep it from everyone.

  Lesley was just not very nice to me that Christmas and seemed to be going out of her way to upset me. Now, the old me would have done his nut and had a right pop at her, but I had changed and it was not my style any more to shout and bawl. I now handled these situations in a much calmer way but I hated to argue with Lesley. She just seemed to disagree with everything I said and it was as if she was itching for an argument. I also think she took advantage of the fact that I would do anything to avoid an argument – she saw this as a weakness that she could exploit. I really tried to make 2007 as happy a Christmas as possible because I knew it would be the last one at home for a few years. I said as much to Lesley, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.

  Early one Sunday morning the following March I received a telephone call from my sister Olive. She was up at Ma’s but was receiving no answer when she knocked on either the back or front doors. I had a key and immediately drove to the house. I wasted no time but as we entered the living room I thought that Ma was dead. She was lying on her side on the floor, wedged between the end of the sofa and the wall below the window. The colour drained from Olive’s face but she remained calm and I was thankful that it was Olive who was there because she was always good in a crisis.

  I knelt down, gently lifted Ma’s head from the floor and she opened her eyes. Thank God she was still alive. I said, ‘It’s OK, Ma. I’m here now with Olive and we will soon have you sorted.’

  She said in a very weak voice, ‘Oh, thank God, son, I’ve been lying here all night. I fell and there is a terrible pain in my side.’

  I placed a cushion under Ma’s head and got a blanket to cover her as she was very cold. Olive was on the phone requesting an ambulance, which arrived within minutes. The paramedics were relieved to see we had not moved Ma, and did a quick examination and spoke very kindly to her. Very gently they moved her onto a stretcher but she still cried out in pain and my heart was breaking for her. She looked such a poor wee soul and was barely more than a bag of bones, except for her spirit, of course, which was as strong as ever.

  I accompanied Ma in the ambulance while Olive stayed behind to inform the rest of the family about what had happened to Ma. After arriving at Hairmyers Ma was examined and sent for x-rays. It transpired that she had broken her hip when she fell and would require surgery. The danger was that because of Ma’s very weakened condition, her heart might not be strong enough to survive. The decision was made to delay surgery until they had tried to build up her strength and to make her as comfortable as possible. She was given pain-killing injections but my wee ma was not best pleased and was giving the nurses all kinds of grief, demanding to be allowed to go home! But I was just so relieved to see her in hospital and still breathing. I knew that this was a serious setback and that it was going to take all of Ma’s fighting spirit to come through it. Really, this was the beginning of the end for my wee ma and I think all of us knew it.

  My worst nightmare was now a real possibility: I could be in jail when my ma died and I just did not want to think too much about that happening. I had various meetings with Marco and he was very blunt and very truthful. If we decided to take the robbery case to trial at the high court and I was found guilty, I could expect ten or possibly 12 years. He then told me of new legislation which meant that an accused who makes an early plea of guilty would be guaranteed to have a third knocked off their sentence. With a good plea of mitigation and the fact that I had not been in any serious trouble in over 15 years, Marco could perhaps see the court imposing a sentence of maybe between five and seven years with a third knocked off. The more I could reduce time I would have to serve, the better the chance of me being out while Ma was still alive.

  Ma was released from hospital in June, having undergone a hip replacement operation. Really, she should still have been in the care of the hospital but she was so insistent about going home that she was allowed under very strict conditions. She would now be practically bedridden. I had given her bedroom a complete makeover, laying a new floor and replacing the carpet with much safer floor tiles. I painted, fitted new lights and ripped out and replaced the wall cupboard and got all new bedding. I also redecorated the hallway from her bedroom and sanded down the door jambs so there would be no obstacles for Ma to trip over. She came home to a beautiful new bedroom and the whole house was sparklingly clean and fresh. She was just so happy to be back and loved the new look I had given her wee home.

  The whole family rallied round and we always made sure there was someone with Ma every day and most nights too. I have to give Lesley a lot of credit here because she was there for my ma as much as anyone. She would make her cups of tea and talk away for hours. I was so grateful to Lesley for taking some of the load and I believe that she genuinely loved my wee mammy.

  Things also improved between Lesley and me. We had never really discussed what had been bothering her or why she had been so different but I was just so happy to have back the Lesley I had known and fallen in love with.

  I decided to cut my losses and make an early plea of guilty with a third of the sentence knocked off. In the past I had always fancied my chances with a jury and, ten years earlier, I would have perhaps gone down that route. I was taking the gamble that there would still be a chance I would be released before Ma died.

  On the day I was to be sentenced I travelled to the high court with Lesley, Cheryl and my cousin Jean Kidd. It was all over very quickly and I was sentenced to seven years, with a third knocked off. I would be on license for the full seven years and, in effect, the third knocked off became like a suspended sentence of two years and four months. I was left with four years and eight months and would serve just over three years. All things considered this was not too bad. From the dock I smiled at Lesley, Cheryl and Jean. Poor Cheryl was in tears and that was when it hit me about how I had caused other people to suffer. I was just glad that my wee ma was not well enough to attend.

  I was whisked off to Barlinnie and was placed back into A hall where nothing had changed. My old pal, wee Pickles, was still there and he said he would get me a job on the pass. He was as good as his word and a couple of days later I was working on the bottom flat on the hot plate serving the grub to the other prisoners. It was a good wee job and it meant that I was unlocked from seven in the morning until eight at night. I was also able to use of one of the bank of four phones located in the hall. I would be able to phone Ma and Lesley pretty much whenever I wanted to.

  Lesley came to visit me on the Friday night after I had been sentenced, along with her sister Kim and her partner William Docherty. William came from Drumchapel but had been living with Kim for the previous eight years. He assured me that he would be there for me and would take care of anything I needed doing but I never saw or heard from him again. This was a guy with a very loose tongue who loved nothing more than to talk about major Glasgow players to anyone who would listen.

  For now, I was settling in and was quite content, but the big worry was my ma. She was hanging on to life by a thread and I had to face up to the fact that the thing that I had been dreading for most of my life was about to come true. I would be burying my beautiful wee ma from jail. This was the ultimate price that I would have to pay for my crime and for that lifestyle I had chosen. Believe me, there is no higher price to pay because you go on paying it for the rest of your life. It is a burden that I will carry to my grave. God forgive me, because I find it very difficult to forgive myself.

  Things came to a head with Ma in the middle of September 2008. She had to be taken to Monklands hospital near Airdrie. I had seen and spoken with the A hall manager, a big guy called Stevie Gunn, and he requested that I be allowed to visit my ma at the hospital on compassionate grounds. I just want to say on behalf of my family that we really
cannot thank big ‘Gunner’ enough for all that he did for me during this time. His compassion and his support was something that I will never forget and I owe that man a real debt of gratitude. Without his efforts I don’t think I would have been allowed to have that last precious visit with my ma. So if you ever read this, Stevie Gunn, then I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the kindness you showed me during that difficult time and for the support you gave me. You are a true gentleman and a man in every sense of the word. And I have to say that all the prison staff on the bottom flat in A hall were very supportive and showed great kindness to me, including Chris Hughes, Rab Timmony and wee John McLaughlin.

  I also had tremendous support from all the guys, including John Kennedy, Joe Mills, wee Danny Craig and Ian ‘Hissy’ Hislop, who I was very close to. Hissy was, and is, a smashing guy. He is very well respected throughout Glasgow and within the prison system. When I met Hissy he was around 42 and waiting to go on trial for murder. It was alleged he had gone into a flat on the south side of Glasgow and left three for dead. Hissy is a very formidable and capable man who could fight for fun, yet he has the nicest nature of any guy I know and can be hilariously funny with a wicked sense of humour. I was moved on before his trial came to an end and I was very saddened to hear later that Hissy had been found guilty and sentenced to life with a recommendation that he serve at least 15 years. But I know he will take it on the chin and serve his time with his self-respect in place. I have not forgotten you, Hissy.