The Loose Screw (20 page)

The usual method of carrying out these premeditated removals would involve at least four hand-picked officers. The mere fact that they were chosen would be enough to boost their already enlarged egos and make each of them more determined to impress the others with their over-thetop macho methods. The officers would enter the cell aggressively, and before the inmate knew what was happening he would have three or four officers on him, usually dangerously, unnecessarily and extremely painfully over-exaggerating the control and restraint techniques. During this scuffle they would take any opportunity to stick the boot or fists in before dragging the inmate down the block. Once here he would receive a strip search together with some equally over-the-top violence from the block staff, who were regarded as the hardest and most elite of the prison staff.

The control and restraint techniques taught to officers are very effective and very little pressure needs to be applied to immobilize even the biggest man. They are, however, like all martial arts, extremely dangerous when abused, which is why their use is supposed to be closely monitored at all times. If an inmate has received injuries after being restrained, such as bruising, lacerations or even quite often broken wrists, a Prison Service nurse or doctor has to attend to treat the wounds and write a report on their findings. Almost all the so-called examinations I witnessed were carried out with the medical staff just looking through the spy hole of a locked cell door, then completing the necessary paperwork in the seg office with the 'help' of the officers involved with the removal. At the same time these officers sit down and discuss what story to write down on their reports, usually stating that the inmate attacked one of them first. This is then copied down on all the other reports to seal the inmate's fate. Thus when the inmate is brought before the governor the next morning, he faces a charge backed by four or five 'sworn' statements from officers. The governor would always discuss the case with the staff prior to carrying out the adjudication and would have decided the inmate's fate before he had even seen him.

So many inmates fell foul of these carefully planned take-outs and, once found guilty in the kangaroo court style adjudication of assaulting a member of staff, they would never be able to shake off that title. It was exactly in this way that Charlie began his nightmare journey into the belly of an archaic, corrupt prison system that, with its bullies, beatings, cover-ups, dungeons and brutal, inhumane regimes, had not changed much since Victorian times.

At one time during my career I applied for a transfer to Long Lartin Prison in Worcester. Long Lartin is a dispersal prison housing long-term prisoners and is supposed to offer a more stable type of regime. On my arrival for an interview I met the governor, who was the head of custody and who immediately told me he liked the look of me because I came from Scrubs and I looked like I would not take any shit from "these scumbags". He was, of course, referring to the inmates, although I did wonder briefly if he was on about the staff. He explained, without carrying out an interview, that the job was mine and went on to express his wish to recruit half a dozen or so officers like myself who could on his orders, quote, "Stick a riot helmet on and crack a few heads open." He said he would handle any subsequent allegations about inmates being hit with truncheons and claimed to have full Home Office approval to form this attack squad in the hope of deterring a rise in prison violence. He said we would be exempt from other duties and would have our own rest room and would be on standby to react to any part of the prison, sort the problem and return to our room with no questions, almost like a Prison Service version of the SAS.

Needless to say, I declined his offer and told him I had applied for a transfer to get away from the bullies and unnecessary violence I had witnessed at Scrubs and Belmarsh. They had formed a squad like this at Belmarsh and it was full of all the arseholes who spent the day strutting around the wings trying to look hard and intimidating in ill-fitting boiler suits. They did not last more than a few months before being disbanded, apparently due to staff shortages.

It is exactly this type of bully-boy mentality and victimization that Charlie has endured for almost thirty years. It became as much a routine part of his daily life as a trip to Tesco is for us on the outside. Just try to imagine yourself in his shoes for just twenty-four hours, waking up alone and afraid, not knowing if you will get through the day without an officer wanting to goad you into confrontation, and unsure if the powers that be will decide to 'ghost' you to another prison, which will lead to more uncertainty and a fresh lot of bully-boy screws wanting to make a name for themselves.

Going back to my initial comments about Charlie being an animal, well perhaps I would agree he is a bit like an animal, a very scared animal. This is not because he attacks people for no reason, because animals don't do that. There is only one species that attacks for no reason or to boost their ego and that is the bully. Animals only defend themselves in a kill-or-bekilled scenario. I can tell you now that Charlie is certainly no bully. He detests bullies and I never saw any evidence in his character that would suggest that he would attack another human being for no reason. On the other hand, I have met countless 'psychos' in uniform who are capable of half killing a man just for looking at them the wrong way, and then use their position of authority to cover up their actions by blaming their victim. The only thing Charlie is guilty of is having too much self-pride to not allow himself to sit in his cell for thirty years and accept the mental and physical torture dished out to him by these bullies. He has chosen to try to fight back even though he knows he can never win a fight inside because, to quote a governor I once worked with on the unit at Belmarsh, "Don't worry lads, our gang will always be bigger than theirs in here." At least Charlie can say to himself when he's lying naked and bruised in a strip cell that he still has his pride and what little dignity he could salvage from his position fairly intact. It is this very part of Charlie's character that has kept him sane over the years of pain and suffering, because, despite all the bad press you may hear and a careful hiding of some of the true facts over the years, the medical boards have actually certified him sane. This certificate of sanity is an acclamation that very few of us can say we have. Perhaps we are all mad and Chaz is the only sane one among us, and that's why we have kept him locked up in solitary confinement for over thirty years.

Time and again the courts have refused to take into account statements from qualified doctors who have examined Charlie in the same way that they have denied me the opportunity to speak in open court about my experiences and the premeditated brutality I have witnessed. Why would an establishment that has nothing to hide be so afraid of one former employee going public in a court of law? I can only assume they are afraid of any subsequent investigations that may be ordered and the can of worms it would open up, not only on Charlie's case but also hundreds like his of unprofessional misconduct carried out by staff in prisons and special hospitals going back for years.

For many prison officers, to "roll around the floor" with an inmate is all they come to work for. It not only breaks up their usually boring routine, but also gives them status with other staff and maybe even a week or two off on full pay. Apart from that, it also gets the officers away from the wing for a couple of hours while they sit and write their reports, and then they can return to the wing like conquering heroes returning from battle. The whole scenario is viewed as a game by most staff and is a great way of widening the 'them and us' divide between staff and prisoner.

The Prison Service would describe Charlie as a monster, but I would wholeheartedly disagree. The man I met and worked with is far from a monster. Charlie is extremely talented, caring, witty and very clever and, surprisingly, even after all these years of torture he bears no grudge and takes everyone he meets at face value. The Prison Service has spread the myth about Charlie Bronson in order to keep a lid on the appalling treatment they administered to him and others like him, not only in prisons but also in the special hospitals such as Rampton and Broadmoor. Patients were injected daily with the liquid cosh, which renders the body paralyzed, or were subjected to electric shock treatment in an attempt to stabilize the brain. Perhaps they had hoped he would just die and no questions would be asked, but it obviously caused them a great deal of embarrassment, if not a great deal of concern, when he was certified sane and had to be released back into normal prison society.

It is my belief that the powers that be have done their utmost, with the cooperation of their bully squads in prison who have become experts in fabricating the truth and covering their tracks, to prevent Charlie having the opportunity to prove that he is capable of being released into society to lead a normal, law-abiding life with his family. And for the first time in many, many years Charlie has everything to live for. He has found his long lost son, and he has a loving wife and stepdaughter and many good friends, myself included, all of whom have offered him and his family full support. One friend, Andy Jones, owns the Crime Through Time Museum and has offered Charlie full-time employment on his release. Charlie has set up his own children's charity and has told me he would love the chance to talk to youngsters about the pitfalls of getting involved in crime and wasting precious years of your life in prison.

The following pages are an account of my first meeting with Charlie when I worked with him on the super-max unit at Belmarsh. This was the first time I had ever met the man behind the myth and it was the beginning of a very unusual friendship struck up in the most unlikely of circumstances. I was fortunate enough to work with Charlie once more further on in my career, which I will talk about later in the book. Since leaving the Prison Service I have carefully monitored Charlie's plight, and have been involved in television and video documentaries as well as newspaper articles. I have also been fortunate enough to have been invited to a couple of parties on Charlie's behalf, where I was able to meet some great people and strike up more unlikely friendships.

I had been on the unit for almost nine months and, shortly after introducing the training programme with Brian, I and about four other officers were pulled into the governor's office and told some worrying news. In the office stood the governor, the unit's two principal officers and a senior officer, all looking very sombre. The governor broke the silence to tell us that we had been chosen to look after a special prisoner who was due to arrive in the next few days. He told us that we would be keeping him in total isolation in the unit's segregation block and his name was Charlie Bronson. We had all heard of the name from various people throughout our training and I think everyone in the room felt as terrified as I did at the prospect of this man's arrival.

We had heard some real horror stories about this man's violence towards staff and his superhuman strength, but up until then he was to us like a mythical creature that had been created to scare young prison officers. Now we had just found out that he was actually a living man and we would have to look after him while he was at Belmarsh.

We were told by the governor that he was so unpredictable that if he even looked at us the wrong way we were to jump all over him and do whatever was necessary to immobilize him. He told us not to worry about using excessive force and that we would receive full backing from the management should we have to take this action.

On the day of Charlie's arrival, I, Tony Lebatt and Mick Regan waited nervously in the seg unit for the escort to arrive. We had prepared the end cell for him and spoke anxiously about what to expect during his stay. At this time we all anticipated a long, hard period of time ahead and all expected to be off sick by the end of the week having been assaulted by this powerful and unpredictable man that we awaited.

The telephone rang with the news that he was on his way through and we caught a glimpse of about ten or so staff surrounding a man with a shaved head and large handlebar moustache, strapped in a body belt, coming through the corridor from the main unit. When he reached the seg we saw just how powerful this man was. His arms and chest were huge and my first impression was that he resembled an old circus strongman. He said very little as we escorted him to his cell except to say "All right guv" to us as he gave each of us the once over. This was his first time at Belmarsh, so he was obviously as anxious as we were about what to expect during his visit.

The senior management was terrified at his arrival and the governor at the time made a fatal mistake in an attempt to ensure that Charlie behaved himself whilst he was there. He made a promise to Charlie that if he behaved himself for two weeks he would ensure that he was moved onto one of the spurs in the main unit. Charlie told him that he would look forward to that and gave his word that he would not be any trouble.

The first few days were a little tense as both we and Charlie adapted to working together, but I quickly began to see a different man to the one that had been described to me by many people in the past. True to his word, Charlie behaved impeccably, and as the days passed we began to get on really well. He began to tell me a bit about his past and some of the places he had been within the system, including suffering some appalling treatment in Broadmoor and Rampton special hospitals during the seventies.

Although he had obviously suffered some terrible treatment, he did not appear to have any hate or bitterness towards me. He had some really funny stories and also really enjoyed listening to my stories of life outside the walls of the prison. I quickly built up a healthy respect for the man and lost all the feelings of fear and nerves that I had experienced before I had met him. Even as early as those first two weeks, I knew this was a man with whom I could have a great friendship. I saw a little bit of my own character in him in the way that he would not let the system push him around and stood his ground for what he believed in. I certainly did not see a madman, rather I saw a highly intelligent man with a great sense of humour and self-pride. Despite suffering years of brutal torture, both mentally and physically, he had the amazing strength of character to judge each officer and situation individually and not let his past experiences cloud his judgement. However, this progress we had made between ourselves was to suffer a setback when the initial two-week period came to an end.