by Jimmy Cryans
But for the time being I licked my wounds and got on with it. I am not suggesting that it was easy but I am not the type of guy to crawl away into a corner and curl up and feel sorry for myself. If there was one positive thing that came out of this episode with Lesley it was that it stirred something that has always been in me and which has always helped me when times were tough. And what that thing inside of me is, is a refusal to submit, I will not be broken and I will not be beaten. I refuse to accept defeat and you would have to kill me before you brought me to my knees. I have been like that since I was a young boy and sometimes it has made things very difficult for me but there have been so many more times when it has helped me and gave me the will and the courage to face up to and deal with situations in my life that could have so easily overwhelmed me.
I concentrated on getting on with my sentence. I knew that it would be very difficult for me in Glenochil and I looked for a possible way out. The opportunity presented itself to me sooner than I had expected when in February 2009 I was asked if I would like to go to a new prison. HMP Addiewell in West Lothian was midway between Glasgow and Edinburgh. It was a brand new, state-of-the-art prison and was privately owned and run. I felt that this was an opportunity for me to make a fresh start so I agreed.
Among those who transferred to Addiewell was a fella from Drumchapel named David ‘Div’ Ogilvie, who I was to get to know and become great friends with. He is a guy I have the highest respect for, real old school. David is into his 12th year after being given a life sentence with a minimum tariff of six years for damaging some guys. He is a complete gentleman and the type who would go out of his way to help you any way he could. He has a heart of gold but it would be very foolish to mistake his kindness for weakness, as he is nobody’s fool. He is respected throughout the system in Scotland and England. David has just recently turned 40 and it won’t be too long now until he is back home. I am proud to call him my pal: guys like David are few and far between.
The first face I saw as we entered the reception area was an old pal of mine, Joe Mills from Blantyre. We had been together in Barlinnie and Glenochil and Joe was another guy whose friendship I valued. Joe had seen and done it all, and had earned and spent more money than most can only dream about. I always took note of his advice and spent a lot of time chatting with him. Joe had spent many years in England and had a wide range of contacts.
I was allocated a cell that was as different as night and day compared to the old cells in Glenochil and Barlinnie. The first thing I noticed was the shower stall and I could hardly wait to get unpacked and get in it. The cell was pristine and everything was brand new. It was quite small and compact but it would do very nicely. For me the best thing about it was that it was single occupancy.
There are just some prisons that, no matter how good they may look, you just know as soon as you set foot in them that all is not well. But that was not the case here. The staff were much more relaxed and much friendlier than in any other jail. I don’t mean that they were soft touches but they were making an effort to make this an environment that would be pleasant for all of us. That kind of attitude has to be a plus when you are serving a long sentence. In my wide experience of prisons this type of regime is advantageous to everyone, prisoners and staff.
In May I was taken to the Glasgow Royal Infirmary for an operation on my right foot. I was now keen to get into some kind of work so I signed up to train as a wing tutor. I would be qualified to help other prisoners with their literacy and numeracy needs. During the training course I met Donna McBride, head of the literacy department. I cannot speak highly enough of Donna, who was fundamental in giving me the belief that not only would I be able to do the job but I had so much untapped potential.
Not long after I had qualified Donna asked me if I would like to take charge of the literacy and numeracy testing of all prisoners. I would give them test papers and then mark and grade them. I had my own desk and worked alongside the head of appointments, Louise Bell, who had four female civilian assistants working under her. Louise is also someone I owe a big debt of gratitude. These ladies showed faith in me and felt confident that I would be able to carry out this job successfully. It was the catalyst for me believing there was another way for me to move forward with my life. I could see they both genuinely cared and sometimes that is all someone needs to start believing in themselves.
I worked hard and immersed myself in all the assignments and I had not one bit of trouble. I got on well with everyone, staff and prisoners alike, and I found the work to be very rewarding and satisfying. It would be fair to say that I was well liked and was known as a guy that you could come to for help and it wouldn’t be refused. I would also help guys who were new to prison and were finding it a wee bit hard to cope. Guys knew they could trust me and that anything they told me would stay with me. I would never speak to anyone else about whatever had been discussed.
The one dark cloud was that Cheryl was going through a very tough time at home and this is when I was to learn the full extent of Lesley’s betrayal. Cheryl came to visit and told me that she would have to move into a homeless unit as Lesley had given up the house and handed in the keys. Lesley had got fed up living in East Kilbride and was going to live in Glasgow. Cheryl also told me that her mum had said that she wasn’t part of the package and would have to find her own place.
‘Look, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to hide it from me because I know all about your mum. She is with William, isn’t she? And she is moving in with him. I’m right, am I not?’ William was Lesley’s sister Kim’s partner, William Docherty. He had been with Kim for over eight years and Lesley had been carrying on an affair with this no-use’er since shortly after I had been sentenced and while she was still coming to visit me. It tells you all you need to know about her that she would do such a thing to her own sister. Now she had sunk to new depths by leaving her daughter homeless. Like everybody else the only thing I felt now for Lesley was contempt.
But that was not important now. What was important was Cheryl’s welfare and I wanted to help her as much as I was able to. I arranged for her to have a few hundred pounds to tide her over Christmas and I tried as best I could to lift her spirits. I told her how much I loved her and how proud I was of her. It would not be too long now until I was back home and we would be together. Cheryl is very like me in the sense that she is a wee fighter and has a very strong will, but it was obvious just by looking at her that she was in pain over what her mother had done. My heart was breaking for Cheryl and if Lesley had been within reach I would have spat in her face.
In May 2010 I said cheerio to a pal of mine who was moving on. His name was Terry Curran and I had met him when the two of us had studied together the previous year. Terry was in his mid-forties and came from Blackhill on the north side of Glasgow. He is a smashing fella who is known and respected throughout Glasgow, but what endeared Terry to me was his obvious love for his family. He is loyal to his friends and he also has a very dry sense of humour that cracks me up. He is a very capable man and would never allow anyone to attempt to take a liberty with him. Only a mug would.
On 3 June I would be leaving Addiewell and heading to the Open Estate at Castle Huntly, so I said my goodbyes to the guys I had gotten close to. As well as David Ogilvie, who I was really going to miss, there was another young guy in our section who I had a lot of time for. He was only 24, he came from East Kilbride and his name was Ritchie McLaren. Ritchie is quite a small guy but he had plenty of bottle and would not take shit from anybody. He was also highly intelligent and had a great sense of humour, as well as being one of the most genuine guys I had met during this sentence.
Everybody was happy to see me progressing to the Open Estate and I mean staff as well as cons. I also had to say my goodbyes to Donna McBride, Louise Bell and all the girls who worked under Louise: Sally, Joanne, Denise and Karen. On my final afternoon I gave them all a song! It had become my habit when things were a bit quiet to give the girls a song and
it always brought a smile to everyone’s face. This was a sign that I really was getting back to my old self and the emptiness that had almost always been my constant companion was now only an old acquaintance who would make an appearance from time to time. While my cup was not full, it would be fair to say it was now at its highest level for some time. I knew that I was going to be OK.
The ordeal of losing Ma and the shite with Lesley had been the real test for me and I had came through it all in one piece. In fact, I had emerged stronger. I had retained my dignity and my self-respect. I enjoyed feeling like that because I had spent too many years in the past with my self-esteem at rock bottom and it almost destroyed me. This time I worked had hard and earned the right to give myself a wee pat on the back. And let me tell you, it felt good!
I would also like to take the time to mention Bob Patterson, the prison chaplain. Bob is a very interesting man. Before he felt the call of God he had been a firearms instructor with Strathclyde police – now there’s a career change! I am not a church-goer, though I do enjoy reading my Bible and have always had one close to hand, even when I was at home. If you want a story with plenty of sex, violence, betrayal, love, war, murder, and redemption then I recommend you give it a try. Bob was someone who could discuss any problem. He was particularly kind when I had been worried about Cheryl. Bob not only listened to me but gave me advice and was very supportive. I always felt better after having talked to him. So thanks, Bob, I owe you one.
Someone else I would like to mention is a female officer who worked on our wing for a long time. Carrie-Ann Hall is a truly special lady and she supported me and encouraged me whenever I was feeling that times were tough. Carrie-Ann is a university graduate and I used to say that she was wasted working in prison. She was only 25, with her whole life in front of her, and I used to tell her that the world was her oyster. She just happened to have movie-star good looks and I thought that she was a ringer for Cheryl Cole. She has since left the prison service and I wish her well. You were very kind to me, Carrie-Ann, and your advice was always spot on.
I arrived at the Castle at about three in the afternoon and was quickly processed, given directions to where I was to be billeted, and left to make my way there alone! Fuck me, it felt a wee bit strange to be able to walk about without being escorted by a screw. It gave me the chance to have a quick look around and the environment was so different to all the other prisons I had been in. There was green grass and lots of flower beds dotted about and no sign of any screws.
As I walked I became aware of the Castle itself – it really was a medieval castle with turrets and flags. I was shown to my room and turned out to be lucky as I was the only occupant. All the rooms were equipped with bunk-beds for double occupancy. I placed my kit on the lower bunk, rolled myself a smoke and looked out of my window, which had no bars to block the view. The sight that greeted me was unbelievable. Stretching out from under my window was a huge lawn with an enormous oak tree. Prancing about the lawn were numerous wild rabbits and around the corner came a family of ducks – five small ducklings led by their mother. Fields and farms could also be seen. This will do me, I thought to myself.
Chapter Thirty-seven
It had taken me just short of two years to arrive at Castle Huntly and I was now within touching distance of going home. Not for good, but I would soon qualify for home leave and that was a start.
The first guy I bumped into was Terry Curran and it was so good to see the wee man again. He quickly filled me in on what was what and how things worked. I wasn’t one of those guys who put himself about and I was very particular about whose company I kept. It wasn’t that I was anti-social, but I just wasn’t the type who needed lots of people around. John Kennedy was also in residence and it was great to see him again, as the last time had been in Glenochil.
Because my right foot was still causing me problems I was allocated to a work place in the education department. I was kind of the unofficial assistant to the head of education, Nickie Bressnaue. She was a civilian who was part of the faculty of Motherwell College. Nickie was brilliant to work with. She pretty much gave me my head and once I had familiarised myself with everything she left me to run things as I saw fit. Eventually a new job was created for me and I was made education receptionist. It sounds a wee bit Julian Clary, I know, but really it was a great job. I had my own desk and computer and as well as logging in all the guys who attended classes I would also compile worksheets and timetables. I loved that job and formed a great relationship with Nickie, who was a truly nice person. Nothing was too much trouble for her.
This job also left me with free time so I signed up for a creative writing class run by a big Yorkshireman named Tim. He was a university graduate who taught English literature and was also a published poet. Tim was a lovely fella and had a brilliant sense of humour but he also happened to be a very good teacher and I loved being in his class. He would give us various assignments and go over whatever you had written and point out where it could be improved. He was full of praise whenever you had written something that he saw as worthy of merit.
It was after one of Tim’s classes that he suggested, as an exercise in writing, that I should consider writing my own story. He left it at that. Tim had been very subtle but he had planted the seed. Quite a few people had suggested this to me but Tim had said that he thought I was capable of taking this on as a project. The fact that he had enough faith in me gave me the impetus to make a go of it.
I did a brief outline of my life, then I tore it up. If I was going to tell my story I would quite simply start at the beginning and tell it with as much honesty as I was able. I found the process relatively easy in the sense that I did not have to think hard to recall events. It is like turning on a tap and the memories just come flooding back. That is not to say that it has been an easy journey – some of those memories were very painful – but in a lot of ways it has proved to be very therapeutic. I have now been able to put to rest some of the ghosts from my past.
Once I had written the first few chapters, Tim came over to my desk and had a look at what I had written and said that I should seriously think about having it published. I decided to print off some of my work and pass it around for some of the guys to read. One of the guys was Rab Docherty and I was to become closer to him than anyone else during this sentence. Rab has been a true friend to me and he, more than anyone else, encouraged and supported me when I started writing this book. Every day he would read what I had written and he was always there with advice and encouragement. I owe him big time.
Rab, like David Ogilvie, is into his 12th year after being handed a life sentence with a minimum tariff of six years at Glasgow high court. He had steamed into five guys outside a pub in Glasgow and had left them for dead. In fact Rab had been one of the most feared and dangerous men in Glasgow. Now, this makes him sound like some kind of ogre. He is anything but – he has a heart of gold and I would trust him with my life. He is real old school and, like Terry Curran, is a loyal and staunch friend. He is also highly intelligent and can be outrageously funny. I love Rab like a brother for his loyalty and his friendship. He turned 50 in November 2010 and, as he himself said, there is still plenty of life left in him. Rab has also been there for my Cheryl when I have not been able to. I also had the privilege of being introduced to Rab’s mother and one of his sisters and they are truly wonderful people. I have spoken to Rab’s ma on the phone quite a few times. She is a lovely woman who reminds me so much of my own wee mammy.
In July 2010 I was given a home leave from a Monday to a Thursday. It was a beautiful summer’s day when I stepped off the coach and waiting to greet me was my Cheryl and my sisters Sheena and Olive. We threw our arms around each other – it was a very special moment. Before we went to Olive’s house we made a small detour to what had been my ma’s home. I just wanted a moment alone to say goodbye to Ma, and I spent a few minutes walking around the outside of the house. Then we made our way to Olive’s, where the rest of the family we
re waiting. It was quite emotional for me, especially when the kids came running up and I held William, Sam and Aerin in my arms. It was in that moment that I realised fully just what prison deprives you of. My Cheryl was just so happy to have her dad back home and I knew that I never wanted to be parted from her.
I had settled in really well at the Castle. I was doing a job that I really enjoyed and my writing was almost addictive. On Tim’s advice I sent some samples of my work to a couple of publishers. Cheryl had contacted them by email and they had instructed her to forward some of my work. Cheryl was invaluable and just so efficient and helpful in anything I asked her to do. She made the long journey every Saturday to visit, a round trip in excess of 250 miles. What a lucky man I am to have a daughter like Cheryl and, in the words of Tina Turner, ‘She’s simply the best’.
I completed six home leaves successfully and was granted parole to run from 31 January 2011. It saved me six months of my sentence as my release date was 5 August. Just another couple of home leaves and I would be home for good. I was going to be home for Christmas for the first time in three years and I just could not wait. But when you least expect it, life has a way of creeping up behind you and biting you on the arse, and that was to be the case on my home leave in the last week of November.
On the coach me and Rab Docherty sat together as we always did and finalised plans to meet up in Glasgow on the Friday. Rab, myself and Cheryl would go for a meal in a very upmarket restaurant in Sauchiehall Street. It had been laid on free for me after I had done a favour for a fella with a wee bit of bother. Nothing heavy, but the guy was keen to show his appreciation.
Cheryl, as always, was waiting for me. Also on the coach were my two good pals John Kennedy and Joe Mills, who by this time knew Cheryl. The four of us and some of the other guys made our way to a little place on West Nile Street and it turned into a great afternoon. Later Cheryl accompanied me over to Central Station where I would catch a train for East Kilbride and would be met by George and Margaret, Cheryl’s grandparents. Cheryl had an early morning job interview and I said I would phone her that evening. As it turned out I would not be able to keep my date with Cheryl and Rab, and the next time I saw Rab would be in the dog boxes at the reception area in Barlinnie.