Saying Goodbye

22 Feb

Gym finished and we get a little association time in the late morning, Ian comes and knocks on my cell door, relieved to see his face and not another Ponce on the hunt for rizla, tobacco or milk; I welcome him into my humble, if a little cramped abode.

“I’ve come to say bye mate, I’m off to Highpoint”

Wow, that happened fast, I thought; sad to lose another pal, but I’m pleased to know he is moving on to somewhere a little better. Highpoint used to be known as Knifepoint, I definitely don’t pass on that information, but I reckon every jail has a nickname, it’s got to be better than here for him. It’s close to his family and I’ll think of him always as the man who I began my sentence with. Slightly insecure, friendly and not an axe collecting insomniac, everything you need in a first night cell mate. Good luck Ian in whichever path life takes you know. I make a note of his prison number and tuck it away in a book for safe keeping.

Tel is off to Wayland, so I pass him the title of my sales book: A Wideboy’s Handbook (ahem, cheap plug) as well as my email address. Surprise some on the outside as it may, I did try to encourage him to deviate from shoddy investment sales; you’re only as good as the product you sell. It took me quite a while to learn that in life; he’s met a man doing bird for the same career he hungers, it’s a shame I’ve not discouraged him.

Half an hour later, he’s back to see me, the screw couldn’t find him so he’s missed the bus out. Thats another week or two here then, less than ideal. He even gets a dressing down for it, this despite he was taken away for an unrelated appointment. It seems a bit off getting the hairdryer treatment for the fault of your handlers. There’s a couple of officers here with a decidedly nasty streak. One’s Nigerian, the cell-shifter I call him – he’s the go-to guy if you want an inmate dragged out of his cell and shoved into another unwelcoming space. He brought Anthony to my door unsurprisingly. Anthony, doesn’t share any kindred love, a Nigerian himself, he hates the man. The second little Hitler that walks the landings of E-Wing, is a senior officer, quick to swing the baton and cursed by a personality bi-polarity. The man has time for no-one and respect for even fewer. Not your obvious looking hardman, still rumours persist that he’s responsible for many an unreported assault.

Tel’s run in for missing the bus is with the former first, then the latter minutes after. A civilian nurse comes between the screws and the budding spiv; the confrontation’s cracked, a brittle peace, its clear that this was a disproportionate use of authority.He’s asked if he wants to follow-up a formal complaint but for your average con, that’s not the done thing, besides all he wants to do is get out of here. Getting an express seat probably won’t be helped if he’s rattling cages.

I’ve heard nothing yet about my radio plug, the landing officer on duty today tells me:

“Put an App in”

I do, I hear that shredder once again.

This time I’m told it can take 3 to 4 working days to find out,  despite my plug being in a box not more than 30 metres away.

Back in the boudoir and I’ve got a bit more mail neatly laid out on the desk. There’s one from my solicitor Richard at THBLegal; he passes on the news that my Corporate Advisor David Sinclair, has been extensively fined and banned from working in the City.

This is the man who claimed I’d duped him, the man who sits on the fraud advisory panel, the qualified lawyer and the man with his extensive finance experience. Why is he being banned and fined if the FSA truly thought he’d been had over? His firm Axiom Capital still operate but not without him at the helm. I find out later that my case is not the first he is involved with and I later question whether I should have appealed sentence. This won’t be the last incident of an unsafe witness as my sentence ticks on. A former boss ‘perverts the course of justice’ with a false and significant statement in a police interview, I’ll publish the evidence to substantiate my assertion, but the truth is, how much should I care? The hard part’s done, I’ve dealt with the upside down life for 3 years, the protracted sentencing, the goodbyes, do I really care about the opinions of some people I’ll never meet. The sad fact is, we all want to right the wrongs about us in life. I’m not an angel, I never have been, hell, who is? I flew amongst a flock and I wasn’t the leader.

Turkey Korma is dinner and it’s pretty palatable.




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