Day 15 – The Model Grass *RANT* (Prior apologies)

5 Mar

I passed out early and wake to see there’s a heap of post from a familiar handwriting. It’s not quite my girlfriends’, but it’s her sister, the go-between. I put them to one side and look forward to reading them. Then, seconds later, impossible to wait, I grab the top one and start reading. Absorbed, wet-eyed and in love, my life has changed so much in the years since this began. I’ve met the good, the bad and the ugly; and I’m a better man for it. I take in every word put down on paper by my treasure far away, I think of her, I think of us and all that’s gone on in between.

The forked turns, the road split/

I wouldn’t have met you if it wasn’t for this shit/

The Cream rises to the top : the scum sits at the bottom/

I’m going to tell you a passage of something very rotten.

Tomorrow its been a month since I sent her on her merry way to the airport. I asked her if she wanted me to come in to wave her off, or whether the quick-drop down would suffice. Eyes like daggers I walked her part the way through the terminal. I could never go all the way, it hurt too much and it’s been so long. The last time I was here, I was returning back from Spain, waiting to be arrested after a tip-off from my then ex-girlfriend and later Queen’s Evidence.

For the uninformed: Queen’s Evidence means Grass. I’ll never know her motives why, I’ll never know how she could reason or rationalise being a stool pigeon, given her only involvement in my affairs was being a ‘post-girl’, the prospect of her receiving any kind of conviction would be slim to none. Still she was more than happy to provide them with information that seemed inspired by someone resentful of me. Why’s that? Could it be, that weeks before the FSA came knocking, she was round my flat cheating on her new boyfriend. I obliged, the geezer was a copper. A barrage of phone calls and texts I palm off later:

“Sorry love, but that was nothing more than to prove I could and to know you truly can’t be trusted”

A week or two goes by, there are texts asking me if any of my old City contacts, can hook her and a pal up with some Colombian Marching Powder. I ignore again. Future hypocrite.

Another week ticks on, there’s a panicked girl on the phone asking me how to answer questions put to her by the FSA. I send her the draft skeleton I’m given by my own briefs for her to use as help. Bitch gives it to the FSA.

Now, I’m tampering with witnesses.

You get on the ride and you enjoy the turns it takes, until it gets a little hairy, you jump off and the steely ones hold the baby. Spineless, prelude to real life.

This is why people hate a grass. It’s not a public service: pony!

If you save your own skin at the cost of those who’ve looked out for you, then you should be inside too.

You mind travels a million miles while you’re rooted to the same spot in a reinforced castle with no immediate exit. I think of the scum that let  me down. Those too concerned with their own name to do me the courtesy of simply telling the truth on my behalf. Former friends who can’t be bothered to return a character reference, when you’ve done the same for them time and time again; in time you’ll have the others who never wrote to you and tell you:

“Hasn’t that time flown by”

Well, not really. In fact every day drags and lasts its full 24 hours when you’re waiting for freedom. An A5 sheet of words, penned in twenty minutes would have made a big difference to the days I spent inside. Prison teaches you exactly who your friends are. Who you need and who you have happily not needed. Life’s a little bit like building up your facebook friends. You start with 0 but you want more. You start adding names of people you never really liked in your youth, just to keep the numbers up. I’ll tell you now, you don’t need numbers, just quality. The numbers of those people who don’t share your blood who you can truly count to be there is a number smaller than you may hope for, but large enough for you to be rich in them.

Prison taught me who my friends are. It made me new ones too but I’ll always remember those who:

Wrote me a letter

Answered the phone

Sent me an email, a message

Held out their arms for me in the visits hall

Badgered me to see them on my release

Gave me work and trusted me

You’re unforgettable, leave the others to be forgotten, the forgettable.

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