Letters from Maghaberry Prison.
A DAY IN MAGHABERRY
Its 27th September about 5 o clock in the morning I am lying in my cell nervously thinking about the day ahead.
Today I am in court and with court comes the brutal, degrading and
humiliating tactic of the forced strip search of Republican prisoners.
This is not my first time being brought to court so I know what lies
ahead. My heart beats faster and faster I can actually hear it pumping
through my chest as thoughts of what I am about to receive run through
my mind. I might be worried but at the same time I know I wont comply to
these bitter heartless torturers.
The next few hours seem to drag in then about 7 o clock the alarm bells
ring throughout the wing, they couldn't be any louder. I lift myself up
into a sitting position and stretching myself out I look into corner of
the cell and see last nights dinner I had thrown it there as it wasn't
edible.
Looking on the floor beside my bed I see my breakfast, a small packet of
Alpen and a half carton of milk, the screws had threw it into my cell
the night before knowing I was for court this morning. I eat this and
when finished I keep the spoon as I will need it later. I rip up the
plastic container it came with and the milk carton and I throw them out
the window, this procedure happens with the three daily meals, it stops
them from using the containers and cutlery over and over again and it
also leaves the outside of the Republican wing looking like a rubbish
dump which annoys the administration as they have to pay industrial
cleaners every so often to come in and clean it up.
I can hear the cleaners outside with big hoovering machines cleaning up
the mess we had made by pouring the stuff threw the doors last night. I
realise I had better go to the toilet quickly before they come and get
me for court. The toilet consists of a sheet of newspaper on the ground
and an empty half carton of milk, out the window the urine goes and onto
the wall the rest of it goes. Its not a nice thing to be spreading this
onto the wall first thing in the morning, not a nice thing to be doing
anytime of the day but we have no other choice the administration has
forced us into this position but at least today there is room to spread
it, my cell was cleaned for the first time 2 weeks ago, before that the
four walls were covered top to bottom with a double coat of excrement as
well as the ceiling. The ceiling isn't accessible to all the prisoners
as height comes into play here. To cover the ceiling it entails stacking
a load of newspapers on top of the plastic chair we have or placing
your brown bag of clothes on top of the chair and standing on it, it
takes good balance as it is awkward but it is a good feeling knowing
that the person cleaning it with the power hose will be finding it
difficult to dodge the waste coming down on him from the ceiling.
Shortly after the door opens and there they stand. The riot squad. These
are the hateful rats that work our landing every single day. There are
four of them “shower, you're for court” one of them snarls. I walk out
carrying my towel, toothbrush/paste and soapbox, one of them takes these
from me and searches through the towel and box, another searches me
from head to toe while the other two just stand and stare at me with
hate filled eyes. The four of them walk me the short distance to the
showers, two to the front of me and two behind me, this is what they
call controlled movement. No other prisoner will be out on the landing
while another prisoner is on it and at all times he will have four of
this riot team around him.
At the showers they throw a box at my feet with a brown paper bag on
top, in this box we have our clean clothes, they don’t let us wear the
clothes we have in our cells when we leave the landing as they say they
are contaminated.
I take my clothes out of the box and lift the brown bag, they open the
steel barred grille let me in and then lock it behind me. I'm only in a
few minutes when one of them shouts “hurry up the bus is here” I take my
time I'm in no rush for what lies ahead. I put the clothes I had wore
leaving my cell plus the towel and toiletries into the brown paper bag I
walk over to the grilles the same four are standing waiting. One takes
the brown bag and searches it thoroughly while another searches me again
from head to toe and the other two yet again just stare with their hate
filled glare. “Right use the phone” one of them says I tell him that I
can't use the phone as my phone card is in my cell “not our problem” he
says and I quickly realise that I wont get my 5 min phone call to my
family today with that he turns to other members of the riot team who
have now gathered at the reception desk "that’s him for the bus, he
doesn't want the phone" they all burst out laughing. Pathetic.
Four of them again walk me the short distance to the grilles that leads
me off our landing and out into to the circle, through one gate and then
another a short walk to the turn-style,through it and straight onto the
bus at the entrance of Roe house. The engine starts and away we go.
There is a small hole in the material used to blank out the window and
as we go through the two large electronically controlled gates I can see
we pass the search box. The search box contains the boss chair which is
a body scanner that can detect objects hidden inside ones body they put
us through this on our way back from visits so why cant they just put
me through it now instead of driving straight by it and on to the
reception area where a body search will be forced upon me by a five
strong riot team.
My stomach is in knots as the van pulls up to the reception area. I'm
brought into the reception area and asked immediately if I am going to
comply with the strip search. My answer is no. They put me into a small
room and tell me I have 15 minutes reflection time to think about it. "I
don’t need it" I say but the door slams firmly shut. During this time I
am pacing up and down the small room taking deep breaths and moving my
arms and wrists in circular motions to loosen them up for the attack
that lies ahead. After the allotted time the door opens and a governor
walks in he asks me am I going to comply with the strip search, more
determined than ever I repeat "no", he asks is there anything he can do
that will change my mind again I say no, "ok then" he says "I am going
to order the search" and he walks out. Within seconds a five strong riot
team rush through the door, one of them runs to the corner with a hand
held video camera in his hand while two quickly rush me and grab my
arms, they pull them straight out from my sides and twist my wrists,
fingers and arms into some kind of martial art lock. A third grabs hold
of my head and pushes it down to my chest whilst pushing me hard enough
to force me to my knees. Whilst on my knees my arms are outstretched in a
crucifix type position and my wrists are twisted agonizingly upwards.
The fourth member goes behind me and pulls my legs from the kneeling
position while the third one forces my head to the floor, all the while
the other two still have my arms, wrists and fingers in locks, I am now
lying face flat on the floor two of the riot squad are on the ground
with me still with my arms wrists and fingers in these painful locks.
Again the fourth member of the team begins taking off my shoes and
socks, he searches them and finds nothing, he then pulls off my jeans
and underwear leaving me naked from the waist down, again he searches
these and finds nothing, Then the third one lifts my head about 8 inches
off the floor while the other two have my arms wrists and fingers still
in locks then the one doing the stripping pulls off my t-shirt searches
it and finding nothing, he throws it on top of me and the senior
officer of the riot squad tells them one by one to pull out. The first
to go is the one stripping me he is then followed by the one who is
holding my head to the floor. This leaves three of them still in the
room, one in the corner who has been videoing the whole ordeal and the
other two who have my arms, wrists and fingers in locks. All of a sudden
one of them starts shouting “stop resisting, stop resisting" I can't
move never mind resist and at this they systematically pull my arms up
outstretched behind my back. I squeal in agony, I don’t know how to
explain the position I am in because I don’t think it would be humanely
possible to put ones body in this shape, I think my shoulders are going
to pop out, I feel my wrists are at breaking point, I am still screaming
in pain when they let me drop to the floor, “don’t get up till we leave
the room” one of them says. I just lie there in agony but a sigh of
relief comes over me, it was over, for now.
I get myself together and get on my feet I look at the door, the hatch
is open and the one who had the camera is still videoing, I get dressed
and the hatch slams shut. Within a minute the governor walks into the
room “have you any complaints about the search?” he asks I say it was
overly aggressive and uncalled for. "I'll make a note of it" he says he
leaves the room and a nurse enters “have you any injuries?” I just look
at her, and she leaves. The screws at the door shout "lets go."
I walk out to the reception area and there is the riot squad standing
laughing, they all stand tall as if they had just carried out something
to be proud of. I just look at them smirk and turn and walk to the front
door.
Out we go and into the prison van for the short journey to Laganside
courts in Belfast. Once there I am brought straight down to the cells
and I wait to be called. Within the hour I am brought upstairs to the
courtroom. I get to sit beside three of my friends who are in the dock
with me, all four of us in court on trumped up charges placed against us
by the RUC. Within minutes the judge adjourns it as the so called
police witnesses haven’t appeared.
I shake hands with my friends and am lead back down to the cells. I am
held here for a few hours. They bring me lunch, a sandwich and a packet
of crisps and then its back onto the prison van and the same short
journey back to Maghaberry.
The nerves in my stomach return again. I know they are waiting on me.
Back in reception the whole brutal procedure is repeated again.
I am in agonizing pain as I am brought back to Roe 4. I am lead straight
to my cell by four of the riot squad. Two in front and two behind.
The cell door slams behind me. My dinner is already sitting on the bed,
freezing cold potatoes and some kind of cheese and broccoli slice. I
throw it behind the door and lie down on top of the bed and think about
the day I've just had. I ask myself, why do they drive past the search
box with the boss chair in it? If they put us through the boss chair
leaving Maghaberry then there would be no need for these brutal forced
strip-searches. Then reality kicks in, it is all about power and
control. I cant help but wonder what sort of person would you have to be
to go to work every day and brutalise another human being ? A sick
individual is my only conclusion.
As I lie there in thought my cell door opens “anything for the duty
governor” one of them says, I don’t even lift my head to acknowledge him
the cell door slams shut.
Its about half 6 now time to start the nightly building of the dam to
block the door for when I put the stuff out later. Some skill is needed
in mastering this art but within a few days I had it sussed.
When I need to go to the toilet later I will use the plastic spoon I
saved from this morning from breakfast to mix it all together until it
turns into a brown nasty liquid which I will be able to pour out onto
the landing.We never get to see it but I would love to see the state of
the landing and the mess they have to clean up after all the lads have
emptied their mix out the doors. With this done and after a little bit
of reading I close my eyes and settle down for the night. Tomorrow
brings a new day and although we might be locked up 23 hours a day I
will get to see my friends and comrades during that little bit of
exercise time. This brings a smile to my face because despite the
treacherous conditions we are forced to live in despite the brutal
regime we are forced to endure, the craic and the spirit couldn't be
greater.
It fills me with great pride to play a small part in this phase of the
prison struggle. We are more determined now than ever to see this
protest through to the end and we will win. These men on dirty protest
here in Maghaberry are brave men, these men are strong men but above all
else these these men are Irish Republicans.
Victory to the protesting prisoners in Maghaberry.
ALAN LUNDY, P.O.W
ROE 4, MAGHABERRY
A letter from political prisoner John Paul Wooton
John Paul Wootton; letter to all:
My name is John Paul Wootton and I am now twenty years of age and I have
been imprisoned in Maghaberry prison for the last three years, that is,
from I was 17 years of age.
On the 10th of March 2009, while still a teenager, I was arrested and
interrogated for thirteen days in relation to the fatal shooting of
Constable Steven Carroll in Craigavon on the 9th of March 2009. From the
outset of this period of interrogation I made it clear that I neither
knew nor had any part in this incident and indeed the duration of my
interrogation was only ended when my legal representative took out a
legal injunction.
On the 30th of March 2012, after a trial before a Diplock court, I was
convicted and sentenced to a life sentence for the killing of Constable
Carroll on the basis of a tracking device that had been fitted to my car
at some point and which allegedly placed me at the scene of the
shooting. However, the device in question, which had been placed there
by members of MI5, went missing for a period of time and when it was
finally recovered portions of the data allegedly recorded on the device
were missing! These ‘gaps’ were supposedly filled by an MI5 operative
who gave his evidence at the trial anonymously from behind a screen and
his explanation for the data going missing was that, ‘he had left it on
his desk and someone had moved and then replaced it without his
knowledge’!
Additional to the missing data, the examination of my car, during the
period of the missing data, also produced a brown coat that had
particles of gun powder residue on it. These particles did not match the
rifle or ammunition recovered by the PSNI that was claimed by the
prosecution to have been the weapon that fired the fatal shot which
killed Constable Carroll. This coat, which was a central piece of
evidence in the case, not only did not belong to me but it had no
physical connection to me, that is, no traces of my DNA, fibres or
fingerprints were found on the coat.
In short, there was no physical evidence presented to the trial that
linked me to this shooting rather a process of speculation and
hypothesis that turned the legal principle of innocence until proven
guilty on its head was applied.
During the trial my legal team attempted to tease out the anomalies of
this case to demonstrate the complete lack of evidence against me,
however, at each attempt they were met with the barrier of ‘Public
Interest Immunity Orders’ being sought and granted to the prosecution.
As a result of this crucial lines of inquiry about the movements of my
car and the particles on the coat were denied to my defence.
As a consequence of all of the above I have instructed my legal team to
appeal the conviction against me on the grounds that I did not receive a
fair trial for the following reasons;
I was refused the right to a trial by jury and instead I was tried by a single judge in a Diplock court,
This single judge in the absence of any physical evidence against me resorted to negative inference and opinion,
Evidence which may have assisted my defence or undermined the case
against me was kept hidden from my legal team through the use of Public
Interest Immunity Orders,
Several witnesses were granted anonymity thereby preventing the defence from properly cross examining them.
I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this short
description of what has happened to me and I would ask you to do all
that you can to highlight this miscarriage of justice in the hope that I
will get the chance of a fair trial at my appeal.
Further information on the legal detail of this case and the summary of
the original trial are also contained on this web site. Please feel free
to use them to demonstrate the scale of the injustice involved or to
contact my legal representatives with any enquiries.
Thank you, John Paul Wootton.
A day in the life of a Maghaberry POW.
Hello everyone. I’m just back from the court. I was twice subjected
to forced strip searches today. That was my tenth forced strip in the
last twelve weeks . I’m also out to court next Tuesday so that will be
another two.
Today I was brought to the reception where
the search team were waiting and forced into a 3ft x 3ft cubicle by two
of them where I refused to strip. They laughed at me and said “He’s
ready for it!”
I was then brought to a holding cell and
kept in there for about 50 minutes with a governor coming in twice to
tell me their so called prison rules. (He could talk all day, I wasn’t
for stripping and won’t be at any stage while I’m incarcerated in this
place)
All the while outside the cell the riot squad are
getting ready. Suddenly the Cell door bursts open and in they come in
full riot gear, Helmets, shields, body protection, the works.
They
ram the shield into my face, 2 of them grab my arms, another grabs my
head, I’m forced to the ground - Arms forced up my back, 2 knees forced
into my head to hold it down , 2 knees in the back of my legs… Then
another one of them starts to force off my shoes, socks and trousers
off. I’m then moved into a forced position so that my boxers are ripped
down and my frontal private parts can be seen by them. I’m then forced
back into a position where my boxers are completely forced off me and a
hand held metal detector is ran over my backside.
At this
stage, it’s hard to breathe with their gloves covering my face and
mouth. I’m still being held by four of them on the floor, my private
parts exposed… Naked! Lying there!
They then grab my boxers and
jeans and force them up, hurting me .. leaving my private parts still
exposed – They then move me into another awkward position to take my t
shirt off… I think my arms are about to break in two ! It’s agony at
this stage.. My wrists are just numb... Being twisted the whole time
this is going on.. My shirt is now off.. I’m lying now with both my arms
are forced up my back towards the roof while the riot squad run out of
the cell.. My arms just drop to the floor.. I try my best to get onto my
feet using my elbows , trousers hanging off me, boxers still below my
private parts.. I’m aching all over !
I try to get dressed as the
riot squad stand smirking at me. I just stare back at them. I think of
the other things they have done to me in the past.. Forced strips, cut
my clothes off, broke my nose, stood on me, forced me into squat
positions, forced my mouth open by trying to break my wrist… I could go
on!
Well, that’s me on the way to court! As soon as I get
to Laganside ( where I’m already an hour late because of the forced
strip ) I’m brought straight to the court, cuffed, and haven’t seen my
solicitor.. Adjourned again ! That’s me down now to a 6ft x 6ft cell to
wait for a few hours.Then I’m brought back to the gaol where I go
through the whole strip search ordeal again.
Sitting in my
cell now – My wrists, knees, ankles, neck, back, head, shoulders are
aching.. One image going through my head is the faces of my friends who
were waiting patiently for me to come back.. Colly, Harry, Brendy,
Gerard, Kevin … It’s hard to explain the look on their faces but I can
tell you that it’s one of the worst feelings in gaol seeing one of your
friends coming back from a forced strip search, seeing them in pain !
I
would take all of their forced strip searches rather than see them in
this agony.. pain .. and I know they would do the same for me.
That’s friendship that won’t be broken !
Well, slan for now, another Republican forcibly strip searched.
D.D McLaughlin, POW, Maghaberry gaol
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