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The police ripped my house to pieces. It was horrendous. Then in cuffs I was paraded up the street to the CID car and taken to Barnsley police cells for a strip search and interview. I was there for 11 hours before I was interviewed, where I admitted everything and that it was for personal use, on a solicitor’s advice.
Later that night I was released on bail to go to Barnsley magistrates in a few months. I then attended there and was committed to Sheffield crown court in May 2007. During this time I had to fight to keep my property as it was a council flat. I had to attend county court and state my case to keep my flat, which luckily I did with the help of my solicitor.
I was put on a list where, if it happened again, I’d be evicted. And if it happened within a year I’d be evicted and never be able to get a council property again.
I attended crown court in May and was told by my barrister that I probably wouldn’t go to prison. I should get a community order as my criminal record wasn’t that bad and it was my first drug offence. But, if I was looking at prison, I was looking at three to five years.
My mum was present, and my partner at the time, and when the judge sentenced me he gave me 16 months. I was devastated. I was heartbroken. As I was taken away by group four I looked at my mum and I saw the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. And I knew, deep, deep down, that I’d broken her heart in two and I had to change.
I was terrified, but what could I do? I was stuck there, and had to grow up and get tough fast or I wouldn’t survive in jail. Plus I had a rattle to do off heroin and god was that bad. I’d done a few before, but this one was raw, no medication at all.
I didn’t sleep for six weeks. I was so depressed and down I tried to slit my wrists with a razor. I’d never been so depressed. All I wanted was to die. My life felt over. I was 24 with no life, my body was grey, skinny and horrid. I had no teeth and I looked years older – haggard and old.
I had so many things to put right with all the hurt and deceit I’d caused to my family my mum and dad and the close friends I had lost through drugs. How would I do it all? Would people give me the time of day? Was I strong enough to deal with all the rejection and truth I was bound to get?
My head was spinning and I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Then, all of a sudden, something went off in my head. A voice saying, “You can do it, you can get back all you have lost. Look in the mirror, sort yourself out, be true to yourself and the rest will follow.”
Then the weight started coming back and I started to feel better. I started to get a bit of confidence back, little by little. Now all I wanted was to go home and make it up to my mum and dad for all the wrong I had done to them in the past. To make them believe I was worth something and that I could re-build my life back to how it was before.
I saw things in prison that I never thought I’d ever see. It is awful people having full blown fights over a packet of rizlas or milk or sugar. People taking any type of drugs they could get their hands on just for a buzz. People getting visitors to smuggle them drugs in, to trade for tobacco, toiletries, anything.
People would sell their clothes for a line of subetex. People would do anything, and I mean anything, for a buzz in that place. And the officers knew, but there was nothing they could do. The prison was overrun with inmates and drugs. There were too many women and not enough staff.
We were locked in our cells more and more because of staff shortages. It was unbelievable, but in there you’re not a person with rights, you’re a number. And if you don’t do as your told, or cause a problem, then your behind your door or nicked down the block with no TV or anything 24/7.
The wing was all wrong. Child molesters walking around looking at your family pictures on your wall and there was nothing you could do about it. They walked around like they had done nothing wrong, expecting you to talk to them and complained to staff if you didn’t. Murderess women, who had killed their grandparents, children and worse.
Then there were people who were in for helping their family. Women who were innocent in our eyes but not in the law’s eyes. Women at 21, doing life sentences, never getting out. They had settled for that life and made it the best they could, their cells like little bedrooms – home from home. It was heart breaking. I saw children doing life sentences never to be released – and they didn’t care.
I saw women with scars from self harm so bad and deep it looked like their arms had been badly burned. I saw women released on a Monday full of remorse for their crimes and lifestyles, to return the following week. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I was amazed how could anyone enjoy this life. I can honestly say prison was not for me at all. Hearing stories of what other inmates had done used to frighten me. I didn’t want to end up like that and I think, deep down, that’s what made me change for the better.
I had to, or I would end up like them. And there was no way I was going to let that happen. It wasn’t going to be that easy though. I never realised how hard it was going to be back in the big wide world after being in prison for 16 months.
To be continued….
Your story continues to grip me, Kiri. Can’t wait for the final part. What am I saying? I already know what happens! But somehow reading this puts me right where you were at the end of this part of your story.
Thanks again Kiri,
It is quite rare that I am so moved by personal stories. I can be a cynical soul, and sometimes you can develop an attitude of “you’ve heard one, you’ve heard them all”.
But I am pleased to say I have really been emotionally touched by your story, it just seems so very real. You’ve not exaggerated anything or tried to justify anything. You have just told the truth, and done so in a very emotive and descriptive way.
At the risk of sounding corny, part 5 of Kiri’s story starts now, and I can guarantee it will be the best of the lot
Matt x
Kiri your story scares the bejesus out of me, gripped indeed!
kiri
thank u for reminding me the life i have left behind i have been through this senirio over 10 times im so glad that im not in this world of desructction i think u have real guts to tell all and i hope you feel better for sharing ur experinces with us as i feel for me it is theroputic keep up the good work and i wish you well in your recovery
thanks mark b
This is powerful writing! Thank you.
Pucker wonderful to read this Kiri, you are such a fighter, I know so many who have gone down the same route, yet not many have come through.
You have and in many ways writing this down for myself to read and others, well specialy for me! is sure therapautic.
Thanks so much from the heart.
It must be such a scary situation to be in – first time in prison, doing a rattle, the pain of leaving your family and wondering what’s next for you. It would be great to see more recovery services and groups operating in prisons – and to see these continue when people are released. I loved reading about your moment of clarity when you told yourself you could do this!
You’ve just taken me right back Kiri…. 2002 in Leeds, homeless and physcially & emotionally wrecked. I was due in court for re sentencing as a previous sentence had been revoked. The police had stopped me on the street that morning to reming me of the court hearing. I had just had a hit, missed the vein and in pain with an egg absess forming on my arm and still rattling went out once again to stroll the streets to get money to score.
I was intercepted by the police and instructed to empty all my pockets. I sat on the pavement with all my works and packets of durex littering the street and felt such shame. Sat there 6 stone nothing in the middle of October wearing heeled sandals I couldnt walk in as my foot was badly absessed and infected – feeling dirtier than a sewer rat and all I wanted was for the ground to swallow me up. The police wouldnt touch me with their bear hands and why would they? I was weak, rattling and desperate to use but I was instructed into the van and whisked off to court.
I sat in the dock, alone – my boyfriend and soulmate nowhere to be seen and listened as my future was made clear. The PSR suggested imprisonment as the only means my life could be saved as even if I could be bailed to the streets of Chapeltown, I would not survive for very long. I cannot remember her exact comments when she sentenced me to prison but she remarked that she was a mother and found it highly abominable that I hadnt been “picked up” by any services in all the time I had been homeless. She must really have believed that she was doing me a favour that day…. hmmmm ok then but maybe a rehab would have sufficed a better judgment?
I landed in Newhall and spent one night in the hospital wing. Although I was a physical and mental mess and withdrawing severley i begged and pleaded with the doctor to put me on the main wing as i didnt want to stay in that looney bin a moment longer.. women screaming and moaning all night. An attempted strangulation with a bra all in one night. I knew a bit about prison from watching Bad Girls (joke) but nothing prepared me for what it was like. As you mentioned Kiri I was astonished how mixed the sentenced prisoners were. I was in for Breach of Probation and CS yet I was on the same landing as murderers and very violent women. I saw alot of violence (usually fighting over girlfriends or desserts) and a lot of women come and go, much self harm and much more torment from women who truly had been served a rough deal in life. I kept my head down (didnt leave my cell much for 10wks whilst doing my RIP as they call it) but all the while knowing my life was one big heap of destruction and hopelessness.
I didnt stay clean when I left and it held no positive purpose for me at all. If an addict is committing crime to fund a drug habit then surely the solution is to try and fix the problem. Ive been clean for 7yrs now and with that I have not (knowingly) committed a crime since. Who says drugs and related crime aren’t synced?
As far as becomming an honest and productive member of society goes.. I think I hit that mark pretty well. And so can you Kiri. Prove all the “Once an addict, always an addict” believers wrong! big up to you girl.. keep on keeping on!
