I will give HM Prison Woodhill 10/10, just for sending me my two angels.
LOCATION: Du Cane Road, London.
CAPACITY: 1,400 beds.
CATEGORY AT PRESENT: Local and Lifer Centre – Male.
OPENED: 1890.
HISTORY: Inmate labour was used to construct this memorial to prisoners’ suffering. Note the design from the aerial photo; it broke away from the radial arm design. Looks like a battery hen farm and was often as overcrowded as a tin of sardines. In 1998, allegations of prison officer brutality against inmates resulted in over twenty prison officers being brought before the courts; some were given prison sentences.
This place to me is just evil. Always has been. Always will be. I call it the bullyboy outfit.
When I first hit time in the 1970s, it was a hole then. My last spell here was in 1994, and it was no different to the way it was in the 1970s. I have never been up on the main prison wings. They just kept me hidden away in the seg block.
There, they are big old cells, 14ft long and 10ft wide. There are cages on the windows. It was all slopping out back then. You became potty-trained in these old jails. But those cells are the best for a workout, plenty of room. Why can’t they make the modern jails like those old ones? Have they got no sense at all? You would think that they had to pay a land tax per square foot the way they make prisons these days!
The Scrubs, as we called it, has been around for years. It is capable of holding a good 1,500 cons. So it is a big place that is run by fear. They try to intimidate the cons. But it has the opposite affect on me. It doesn’t work. It never will. Like I say, all they can do to me is kill me, and they haven’t done it in thirty years. So why now?
They don’t scare me with their show of force, opening my cell door fifteen-handed, all glaring at me, some with shields, some with sticks. I’m not in the urban theatre; I’m in the urban jungle! It becomes a fucking joke; it is basically a waste of time. Because one decent screw could open my door and I will be polite and respectful. But if fifteen open my door, I will just abuse the cowards, because there is no sense in it. And I don’t play games like that. That is all it is, one big game.
It was 1985; I almost lost my arm in the Scrubs. I smashed up a recess and started throwing sinks and toilets about. Then I punched through an ‘unbreakable’ glass window. My fist went right through it … then it happened. Blood was squirting out like a fountain. I panicked, and started to chase the screws. But the blood was coming out so fast that I just collapsed.
Someone must have taken pity on me, because I actually awoke in hospital. But that was only the start of it. My injury went bad and, eventually, a big lump of puss grew in my wrist. Anyway, I had to be operated on; it was touch and go whether I would lose my arm. I was very lucky, but I broke the glass. It took me years to build the power up in that fist. But I overcame it.
It was also in the 1980s that I tried to kill the Governor by strangling him. Fortunately, the screws were on me and I spent all my time in restraint over that. Wherever I went, I had to be put in a body belt. It was at this period of my life I was at my most dangerous and unpredictable.
I would dive at a screw for just looking at me and they would dive at me if they thought I was getting bad. They, in fact, had a licence to attack me on any day they felt like it. Many times, that is just what they did … if they felt like a fight, then it was that day I would get served up.
My life, my world, was now a war zone. If I got through a day without an incident, I would pray to God and say ‘Thank you’. But in the morning, it would be a new struggle. The struggle was now my sanity.
It was in 1974 when the Scrubs really took a liberty with me, at a time when I was on my knees. My dad had just died. I was devastated. I was in a daze, lost, empty. Tearful. My whole life was in shock. And I just felt hopeless.
All I really needed was a friendly talk, some sort of compassion. A cup of tea and a nice chat. And all I got was a bashing. They brutalised me. It was an act of evil. I have always been able to shake it off, and get on with it, but this beating was totally unjust and unnecessary. There was just no sense in it. I was smashed with sticks; stomped on, and even had my ’tash ripped out of my lip. I was stripped naked and secured in a body belt. And left.
Days later, I was picked up and put in a van. I could barely walk as my toes were all bruised and bent, even the nails had been ripped off. I left the Scrubs like my dad … dead. They had killed my heart. It did not matter to me where I went. I just felt I was buried.
A few years later, a lot of Scrubs screws were sacked. Some were sent to jail over the brutality there. So don’t tell me it doesn’t happen. It does. But with Bronson, there is a licence kill. It is all part of my journey.
Obviously, you get over a beating, it is just physical – it is like a bad head or a storm, it clears up and the sun shines. But mentally, it stays. You have nightmares, you lose trust. You lose faith in humanity and it rips up your soul. I think it does make you a stronger person. A more determined person. But you are never the same, as you become ‘cold’.
I will give HM Prison Wormwood Scrubs 0/10. Fuck ’em! It is all you deserve.
No hard feelings to any of the decent screws there, as I am sure that there are lots. And it may well be a better jail now that the scum have been sacked. But the stigma never dies, too much shit has gone on there. It needs pulling down and rebuilding. A new plan, a new regime, a new bunch of staff. To me, it is the same as it always was.
4
HOSTAGE HELL
If you asked any of my hostage victims what the experience was like, I’d bet most of them would say, ‘Hell’. I don’t want to cover old territory, as that’s already been covered and well documented in my other books. So what I intend to do is to let some of my hostages speak out for themselves.
It isn’t easy being Bronson. People expect so much of you and yet, at times, I can’t give what they want. Expectations of my behaviour means that certain things are expected of me when situations like taking a hostage materialise. This is what prison can do to you; it can make you mad or make you break down. You have to have an inner resolve to get you through it.
For the ordinary prisoner, they can go and speak with a number of support staff, but what can I do when the pressure gets too much? I’ve cracked and taken a hostage or two! God knows, I’ve resisted temptation so many times.
Although my hostages may have feared for their lives when initially taken hostage, by the end of the siege they knew I wouldn’t have carried out any of what I said. That’s why I’ve included these statements from three of my hostages; these have never before been seen in print.
All of the statements have one thing in common – the hostages say that they were threatened with some sort of violence, but read each statement and you will see that nothing but the minimum of force was applied to them … they all lived to walk away from the siege. I was the one to pay for each siege with extra prison sentences being continually added on.
Although I’ve taken many more hostages than these three, I feel that these key individuals represent the effect of my thoughts and actions at the time. But all walked away in one piece; this is what duress can do to a man. That is why they were taken hostage … duress of circumstance. I was not in control of my actions and I was not in control of what was said to them, but I did my best to fight the urges and I often harmed myself rather than harm the hostages. I believe I was harming the hostages by proxy. If I was to slash my head with a broken bottle, then that saved me from doing that to a hostage; that is how much I fought not to harm them.
When you get settled into a prison and then face the threat of being moved to another prison, it can set all sorts of alarm bells ringing. You know that when you get to wherever it is that a reception committee will be waiting for you, so you do your best not to go to such a place. I do not receive the usual helping hand from the prison administration, they’ve given up on me. I am under the control of Prison Service HQ; the prison I am
in has to do the bidding of the grand masters in HQ, they are just tools. I am then forced to react because of the way these orders are carried out without any compassion; you’re body belted and marched off to a van … and you don’t know where you’re going.
That is what most prisoners go through, the fear of where they are going, the fear of leaving the safe haven of the establishment that they’re in and the fear of having to make new acquaintances when they arrive at their destination. For me, when I feel another prison move is coming on, then it does cause me concern. I am being led by the blind, they do not see what I can see, they have not experienced the degradation and violence that my body has felt. This can set off a chain reaction that I have no control over, as happens with many other prisoners in the system.
The main difference between my moves and that of a ‘normal’ low-security being moved is that they are told in advance of the place they may be moved to. They may get a slip under their door at night telling them that they’re going to such and such a place tomorrow; that doesn’t happen with me. I am simply ghosted away. No warning, no nothing.
It doesn’t mean that all prisoners do not feel some sort of concern about the move. Some prisoners look forward to being moved to ‘open’ conditions and, therefore, do not mind the move … they crave the move. But some prisoners do not like certain establishments and do genuinely feel fear about the impending move and think of all sorts of devious plans to remain at the prison they are in. What devious plan can I come up with other than to resist with my physical self?
I leave you with the hostages to have the last word in this chapter, as they deserve it and here they tell you what happened.
ANDY LOVE
Crown Court, Luton
The Queen v Charles Bronson
Charles Bronson is charged as follows:
Count 1
Statement of Offence: False Imprisonment
Particulars of Offence: Charles Bronson on the 26th day of May 1993 assaulted and unlawfully and injuriously imprisoned Andrew George Love and detained him against his will.
Count 2
Statement of Offence: Blackmail, contra to Section 21(1) of the Theft Act 1968.
Particulars of Offence: Charles Bronson on the 26th day of May 1993 made an unwarranted demand of an inflatable doll, a cup of tea, weapons and a helicopter from Sarah Irvine with menaces with a view to gain for himself or another or with intent to cause loss to another.
Handwritten letter from Andy to someone he calls ‘Sweetheart’:
Sweetheart,
Thanks for your message – it really helped. And thanks to Mary [can’t make out name … Marje?] for being with you.
I’m OK except that they’re not feeding us or telling us what’s going on. This may go on for some time but I don’t think I’m in any immediate danger – I know lots of people are working for me, somewhere. Keep the kettle ready. I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether or not to tell my mother or anyone else. There’s news on Horizon every hour.
I’m thinking of you and XXXX and love you both, keep strong and stubborn.
Love you,
Andy
Statement made on 28 May 1993 by Andrew George Love:
I am employed by Buckinghamshire County Council in the position of Librarian at Woodhill Prison, Milton Keynes, and have been so since July 1992 when the prison opened. Most of the inmates are able to go to the Prison Library and select their own books. There are about ten units that are not able to attend the Library for various reasons; one such unit is the segregation unit which is really a punishment wing. I then select some 300 books, place them on a trolley and take them to these units for the prisoners to select.
On the morning of Wednesday, 26 May 1993, I went to the segregation block with my trolley of books, arriving at about 9.30am. I parked the trolley by the Good Order and Discipline part of the prison. Officers would bring one prisoner at a time to the trolley where they would exchange books.
At about 9.50am, Charles Bronson came through the gate leading to the exercise yard and the officer was just locking the gate when the prisoner Bronson approached me quickly from 4 behind and placed me in a strangle-hold with his right arm. It was on very securely and constricted my throat; it was locked against his left forearm which was behind my head; I was having trouble breathing.
He said something to the effect of, ‘Don’t do anything silly and you will be OK … if you try anything silly I will snap your spinal cord.’
This was spoken in a quiet, rational way. I knew what a strong, powerful man he was and was aware of his reputation. I had no doubt that he meant his threat and I was in fear of my life. I was terrified.
He began moving me towards his cell which was situated on the ground floor. I recall Bronson saying, ‘This is a hostage situation.’ I can’t recall a lot in those split seconds until he got me in the cell and banged the door. I was in a state of shock. He slammed the cell door shut with his boot. I was still in a head lock. He took me over to the back of the cell. He said, ‘I am going to sit you down on the chair. I want you to be quiet and stay there.’ This I did.
He stood behind me, still having me in the strangle lock. He shouted out that he wanted to see the Governor. I am a bit confused as to the order of things. I recall him saying he would snap my spinal cord if his demands were not met. He asked for someone to write down his demands. He made numerous threats on my life. I remember Prison Officer Sarah Irvine turning up as negotiator and speaking to Bronson.
After five or ten minutes, Bronson released me from his grip. He did not grab hold of me again throughout tie siege. His demands started off at a blow-up doll, and a cup of tea for both of us.
He made continued threats to the prison officers outside that he would snap my neck and kill me, but this seemed to be for their benefit mainly and was directed to them.
As time went on – I do not know what time, I do not wear a watch – he said that he would not harm me, but this was after several hours of me being in the cell.
He went into a number of rages when he thought negotiations were not going his way; at these times my anxieties increased. He made unreasonable demands at these times for a helicopter, gun and bullets. He seemed to have a number of grievances about the time he had spent in solitary confinement and the denying of visits.
But he really just seemed lonely and wanted company, and was concerned as to the possible outcome of his forthcoming trial. He encouraged me to write a couple of letters later on. This I did. I wrote one letter to my wife exhibit AGL/1 and one to Sue Shilling, a prison Governor, whom we had heard speaking on the Horizon radio as Bronson had a radio playing in his cell.
I was very intent on not showing Bronson that I was frightened and tried to build up a relationship with him. This was fairly easy, as he knew me from my library job. Towards the end of the siege, I feel that I understood his position and I believe he had built up some respect for me as I had not cracked. I believe he expected his demands to be met.
At the end of the siege, it was arranged that I would go to the cell door, he would stay at the back, I would be released and he would be given a rub-down search and then moved to another cell.
Just before the cell door opened, he shook my hand, apologised to me and told me I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The cell door opened and I was released. I was taken to the adjudication room and seen by some medics. I was later seen by a psychologist and debriefed.
I was held for some fourteen hours. In the early hours, I was terrified and frightened for my life. I really believed that if Bronson’s demands were not met, he would kill me. As the hours went by, I realised that this was less likely to happen. I did not consent to being taken into the cell or being kept or being kept there against my will.
ADRIAN THOMAS WALLACE
I am the above named and I am employed by the Home Office as Deputy Governor, Her Majesty’s Prison, Hedon Road, Hull. I have been engaged in this capacity at Hull for two years, three months and ha
ve worked within the Prison Service, working my way through the ranks, for about twenty-three years. My duties have taken me all around the country and, prior to my current post, I was based at the Northallerton Prison. My current position at Hull is as the Head of Operations and part of my time is spent supervising the Special Unit on A Wing.
This unit houses only four inmates. They are categorised as special prisoners and are placed on this unit because they cannot interact with the mainstream prisoners. The unit is specially contained and they are given more independence in an attempt to replace them into routine prison life.
The four prisoners on the unit are Anthony McUllagh (DoB 21/4/67), Paul Flint (DoB 21/4/64), Edward Slater (DoB 28/4/64) and Charles Bronson (DoB 6/12/52). This latter prisoner changed his name to Bronson from Michael Gordon Peterson. He has been at Hull since November 1993, previously being at Frankland Prison. Bronson is an extremely large man. He is about 5ft 11in tall but has a huge physique, like Geoff Capes. He has a shaven head and a large handlebar moustache. He is an extremely fit man, spending a lot of time working out. He is currently serving an eight-year sentence for conspiracy to rob and has spent the vast majority of his adult life inside institutions. He is presently awaiting trial for a previous incident in which he took a librarian as hostage. [The siege involving Andy Love.]
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