John Thompson and Emily Maw

 John Thompson spent 14 years on death row before evidence came to light that showed he was innocent. It is one of the more bizarre stories to emerge from bungled death penalty cases in the US in recent years. The prosecutor at his original trial knew the foresnsic evidence that would have cleared Thompson was available, but decided to conceal it from the defence. Why would he do that? “Because,” says John, “all he was thinking about was his career.” I listened to John Thompson speak at the annual Life Lines conference last weekend – it was the only time I had ever been moved to tears by a speaker. Yet there was no bitterness in his words, no self-pity in his voice – just a passion to share his experience and to show us why the death penalty is so wrong. Five years after his release he campaigns with the same vigour and determination as ever. Through his organisation Ressurection after Exoneration he provides a voice for other exonerees whilst giving them the support and guidance they need to readjust to life after death row. I felt so privileged to sit on the same platform as John, alongside Life Lines founder Jan Arriens and director of Innocence Project New Orleans, Emily Maw. The Life Lines audience were magnificent in their warm heartedness. I attended the conference expecting to give a little of myself – but came away having gained more than I could have ever anticipated – almost overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of open handed humanity on offer.  (The Book Welcome to Hell: Letters and Writings from Death Row – edited by Jan Arriens is available here.)

Reading a passage from my first book A Life Inside at the Komedia in Brighton last Tuesday night was great fun. It was hot, the theatre lights were burning down and the room was packed, which meant lots of body heat. But the response was terrific. The event, a cabaret style set of performances by people interested in and connected to Arts activities in prisons was organised by the Arts Alliance – a group of Arts driven charities who work with prisoners and ex-prisoners, introducing creative activities to people who often have had no previous arts experiences. 

Superlative compere Jason Barnett fielded some great people including the wonderful actress and divine singer Denise Black (pictured) who sang with her band The Loose Screw. Eileen Mascoll, who had been supported by Music in Prisons also sang beautifully. Clive Hopwood of the Writers in Prison network gave a fantastic talk and gave us a very funny example of Oral Story telling. As he said, few prisoners can write very well so he uses the Oral tradition as a way in. The final act was the Great British Treasure and rib-breakingly funny Jo Brand - “my husband hates me snoring, especially when we are having sex…” A very generous lady.  

The impact that taking part in creative activities such as music, drama and writing, can have on troubled lives is hard to quantify. But I saw first hand in prison how people made to feel good about themselves were moved to be more considerate towards others, less angry and frustrated and more likely to seek a better way of living. It seemed to me that most people I met in prison did not feel much that was good about themselves, yet when encouraged to feel that they, we, were valuable and had some real worth, were less inclined to want to cause anyone else any harm or distress. It is one of the reasons I passionately support the arts in prisons.  For victims of crime, especially of serious crime, the idea of people in prison appearing to have “fun” with the Arts may be hard to stomach. That is why Jack Straw announced a clampdown on “fun activities” in prison – which did not pass the “public acceptability test.” To me this was a misguided edict – resulting from Mr Straw’s kneejerk reaction to news that the brilliant Comedy Club was running a stand-up comedy course in Whitemoor prison. A niggerdly prison officer leaked the  news to the tabloid press which caused a scandal. Instead of standing up for what Arts activities can achieve for prisoners, increasing confidence, self-worth and the ability to communicate more effectively in a positive way, Mr Straw succumbed to the headlines and shouted from the roof tops NO MORE FUN IN PRISONS!

 Actually if he had that would have been funny – instead he got the Prison Service to issue a PSI (Prison Service Instruction) with the vague public acceptibility test loosely defined. I don’t think that did anything worthwhile for victims and did a lot to undermine the good work that Arts charities do in prisons - not giving prisoners “treats” but helping them find the better part of themselves so that they are less inclined to cause further harm and distress after they are freed. What Mr Straw should really have been incensed about is the outrageous reoffending figures. Across the board around 70 per cent of all released prisoners reoffend within two years of release. That’s what I find hard to stomach.

Soroptimist International. What a great name!  But what do they do? I found out a little more last week when I visited Croydon to speak to the local branch at the Shirley Park Golf Club. I met President Patricia Painting and her husband Laurie and many of Patricia’s colleagues, including two who were visiting from the US. Soroptimist International was founded in Oakland California in 1921. The name is derived from the latin soror which means sister and optima meaning best – the term Soroptomist therefore represents “the best for women.”  There were mostly women at the event, an excellent dinner, but there were a number of men present, husbands I think. I took some good questions after I had finished speaking and I was really encouraged by the interest shown in what I had to say about the way our criminal justice system and in particular how our prison system works. One of the visitors from the US was a retired deputy Prison Warden who came up and thanked me warmly. It was such a pleasure to meet such committed women. All strength to them.

The news of Frank Deasy’s passing came as a dreadful shock. Such a talented writer and still so young with so many unfulfilled years ahead of him. I met Frank last year when I was asked to advise on the prison bits of the drama he scripted, Father and Son, starring Dougray Scott and host of other fantastic actors. I read the scripts, copies of which I still have and was completely drawn in by the drive and power of the writing – the emotional pace of the story matched the action. I knew it was the work of a  real giant in scriptwriting but I never expected to meet him. When I did he was incredibly generous, warm, welcoming and encouraging. He seemed like a very gentle man and quite humble. I had no idea he had such serious health problems. All I knew was that I was shaking hands with the man who scripted The Grass Arena - the brilliant depiction of the life of John Healy from the his book of the same name. Reading now about Frank’s life, his family and his wonderful campaign to persuade people to sign up to carrying organ donor cards – I see he was an even bigger man that I realised.

Michael was on great form when I spoke to him at his home in Barnet last  Friday. He was very chatty and as you would expect since the release of his father, very upbeat. But I was hugely aware that it is still a very sensitive time for him and his family. Ronnie is a very poorly man and the prognosis is not good. Somebody said to me, “I hear Ronnie has had a miraculous recovery.” Well who wouldn’t perk up after being released from a thirty year prison sentence? But it is obvious that he has had nothing like a miraculous recovery. I think the family were very lucky indeed that he managed to survive as long as he has through that appalling prison experience.  It was fair that he be returned to prison when he came back from Rio – but for Jack Straw to have blocked his release after it was recommended by the parole board last month was surely a travesty of fairness. Most of the other train robbers served around a third of their sentences, a little more in some cases. But they were young strong men when they were serving their time. Doing time in high security when you are old and frail is a different kettle of fish – some will say, “so what?” – he’s a criminal. But he’s human too - and his  family were never criminals. The added pain they had to suffer because of Ronnie Biggs’ condition surely deserved some consideration? The family of Mr Mills, the train driver who was battered might think differently. His and their pain and suffering are just as important. But it was clear to me that Michael is a very decent person with a lovely loving family. And yet – with a notorious father and having witnessed the glamourisation of criminality at close quarters – he could have “gone the other way” as they say quite easily. Criminality is clearly not inherited – not that his dad was ever a serious professional criminal – proof of which is his avoidence of any dodgy activity during his thirty six years as a fugitive, other than what was required to maintain his freedom of course. But he didn’t steal or rob or cheat or harm anyone. He lived a relatively honest life under many significant pressures and through it all demonstrated his “rehabilitaition” – the most potent proof of which is the way Michael has turned out. I say good luck to them.

The prison system is in crisis. It has been seriously that way for at least the last ten years or more. Since New Labour came to power in 1997 and for some years before that not a single politician has demonstrated one shred of political will to make the sytem genuinely more effective, which in part has led to the failures culminating in Daniel Sonnex being free to take part in the murders of French students Laurent Bonomo and Gabriel Ferez. So long as we remain complacent about our prison system and continue to allow politicians to get away with their nonsensical prison rhetoric the danger of similiar horrors occurring in the future will increase. 

I have made an almighty balls up with my deceit in the Guardian piece refered to in today’s G2. There is no excuse for it – I’ve tried to explain it, but even to me it does not make a great deal of sense. One of the most important things I learned in prison was that you cannot beat the truth. It is like a solid rock foundation of civilisation. All the greatest and most influential people throughout history, the people that have really shaped our world, from Socrates to Obama, have been men of truth. I am sorry I lied for such dubious reasons, sorry to have let so many people down. I’ve always struggled with this new existence – never planned it that’s for sure. Just wanted to be a writer.  So very sorry to have offended.  

I spent a great couple of days last week at a Quakers in Criminal Justice conference. I had been invited as a speaker and was delighted to meet the delegates. What struck me most was their committment to social justice, particularly in relation to what happens in our prisons. Of course the Quaker philosophy embraces pacifism, which to those not acquainted with Quakerism may give the impression that Quakers are “soft.” Whilst the people I met at the weekend had a collective gentleness among them that was almost palpable, the strength of their resolve was like solid steel. I often attended religious meetings when I was in prison – mainly Anglican services, but I also joined groups of other faiths when I was invited. I was always open to the ideas of others and learned much from the faith groups. The most satisfying for me however were the Quaker meetings. I remember how wonderful it felt to discover, “a society of friends.” A Friend is the term Quakers use when addressing each other. The power of the silent meditations the Quakers shared brought me close to embracing the Quaker faith a couple of times. But my wariness of handing over responsibility for my thoughts and actions to a “faith,” was always too strong. I was determined to get by and achieve whatever I could on self-discipline, the foundation of which I developed whilst serving in the French Foreign Legion in the early 1980s. I’ve written a little piece in today’s Guardian about my experiences there  in response to recent reports that a number of legionnaires had been subjected to abuse and bullying. I guess to many civilised people the general ethos of the Foreign Legion might appear abusive. But most of those who go to join have already experienced robust and arguably abusive lives. The Legion is skilled in ironing out an individual’s past, in order to create a uniform philosophy which binds legionnaires together like no other army in the world. Most of the process is psychological, but the physical processes are equally involved. Being able to endure extreme conditions demands extreme training. It doesn’t seem rational, but some of that may involve beatings and senseless physical tasks: digging holes in the desert, running with pebbles in the mouth, or breaking the ice on a frozen lake for a morning swim are just a selection of what I experienced. It was demanding and punitive but ultimately fulfilling. Once you are established as a legionnaire it is a good life. The legion is a family and fellow legionnaires are like brothers who would risk life and limb for each other and for their legion family without hesitation. Legio Patria Nostra is the legion motto – The Legion is my country, my home, my family. Of course the overall reason for your existence as a legionnaire is that you are trained to kill effectively or to die well in your efforts. These are the most basic reasons to live for sure. But for some the possibility of a redeeming death is something that can be a readily acceptable risk. To live honourably with the chance of dying gloriously may be an attractive proposition for those who have only expereinced dissatisfaction with life. In truth it was my time as a legionnaire that gave me the strength to manage my prison time so well. The self-discipline and focus I had aquired whilst serving in the 2eme Regiment Etranger du Parachutists  gave me the edge over many of my neighbours in prison. During the early years of my sentence I lived like a soldier but was always searching for an authentic way to “be.” Attending religious meetings gave me some answers, but it was the Quaker meetings that brought me the most peace. People who are at peace with each other, I discovered, are able to give so much more to others. I felt that again last weekend. Thank you Friends.

I have been writing about prison related issues for more than ten years now, for the past four and a half years from the privileged position of being on the outside of the walls. People occasionally ask, “Don’t you ever get fed up of writing about prison?” Well I did for a while – concentrated on building a small business and a couple of totally different writing projects – but then I found I missed being involved in the prison debate. My prison experience taught me that as a society we do not use it effectively, we do not understand the reality of prison and more importantly, we do not care sufficiently about how we use prison, (despite being the most prolific jailers in the EU.) I do not consider myself a prisoner’s spokesman – wouldn’t dream of it – I am certainly no apologist for those who cause harm and distress to others. On the contrary I believe that anyone who behaves in such a way needs to be seperated from the general community for whatever the relevant officials decide is the appropriate period of time. My writing is driven in the main from my prison experience but I really I am just a writer. And my concern in relation to our prisons is that our ill thought out heavily punitive attitudes and approach do not give us the best return for the massive financial and human investment we put into our prison system. I reject any accusation that I am overly concerned with the “needs of offenders,” over and above the “needs of victims.” (The favourite rhetoric of the Home Office and MOJ.) My only concern is that we should be using prison intelligently – so that it serves the needs of all of society as well as it can. A system that fails prisoners fails victims and potential victims. Today I wrote a blog for the Guardian’s CIF site on the issue of sex in prison. Sex in prison is a big unacknowledged probem. One that the authorities have never taken seriously. The deprivation of healthy sexual functioning for long periods of time in the quite intense and peculiar circumstances of prison has uncertain effects on the people we incarcerate. My experience of prison leads me to think that the effects may be quite profound and have greater negative implications for wider society. It needs to be discussed. And I’m happy to write about it.

For the second time in my life my head has been full of John Martyn for a couple of days. The first time was after his concert at Long Lartin prison in Evesham where I was resident for a while in the late eighties and early nineties. (I wrote about it for the Guardian here ) – and now again with his sad passing. The sadness of losing such a gifted and talented individual is exacerabated by his relative youth – 60 is no age these days – but also because his lifestyle had contributed so much to his early demise. Look on the covers of his early albums and you see a good looking, vibrant young man, bursting with energy and life – and hair. He looked like a man that could go on forever. I managed to get a copy of Solid Air  in HMV in Covent Garden at the weekend – it was the only copy left. When I got home the first track I put on was May You Never - at full volume.  Brought back so many memories, of ups and downs. The song always gave me hope – still does. So grateful that John Martyn lived.