The Loose Screw Read Free Page A

personality to match that of a grumpy old silverback gorilla. I think he only knew two words of dialect, which he used to answer me when I asked him if he wanted a cup of tea: "two sugars" -that's all I heard him speak all day.
    Consequently, I welcomed the arrival of the lunchtime meal at twelve, as it meant after serving it the inmates would be locked up for an hour and I could get off the spur for a break myself.
    All too soon I was back unlocking the lads for the afternoon period, which would follow much the same routine as the morning, or so I hoped. At approximately 1400 hours, two visits officers arrived to collect the prisoners for the afternoon visiting session. That particular afternoon three inmates were collected: two of the IRA inmates on remand for the Warrington bombing; and Gary Nelson, a large Jamaican inmate accused of killing PC Dunne. With our numbers reduced to nine, the afternoon passed peacefully with most of the inmates spending the following couple of hours writing letters, reading or watching the Saturday afternoon sport on television.
    About an hour and a half had passed when the three inmates on visits returned, and I could tell by the expressions on the escorting officers' faces that all had not gone well. Nelson went straight to his cell and slammed the door against its frame, but the bolt was in the open position so it could not close fully, and the two IRA men both headed straight for Dingus's cell. I knew something was wrong, but decided to sit back and hope that it was just a case of a bad visit and they would sort it out among themselves rather than risk antagonizing them further by following them into the cell and demanding to know what had happened.
    I did not have to wait long for answers. Within a few minutes of the inmates returning, Dingus, the highest-ranking IRA man on the spur at the time and a man with whom I had actually been able to build up a fairly good working relationship, approached me at the desk. No sooner had the words, "The boys are not happy, I think it best if you get off the spur for a while", left his lips, one of the Warrington lot who had been on visits came charging out of a cell wielding a plastic chair above his head. He made straight for the CCTV camera mounted on the far wall of the spur and, using the chair, began smashing at it. At the same time, Nelson and the other IRA man came out and began to dismantle the pool table and throw the TV off its table onto the floor. I looked around for some support, just in time to see Stu's hulking frame squeezing out of the second door leading off the spur, but not before he had locked the first one behind him, leaving me alone and locked in with a spur full of very irate prisoners. I spun round again to look into the observation office and saw to my horror that the officer in there was facing the other way on the phone, apparently unaware of what was happening. Luckily for me, Dingus was still by my side and he ushered me towards the door of the spur, shielding me for just enough time to allow me to fumble with my keys and escape into the sterile area between the two doors that led off the spur. I froze there for a moment, in the safety of the locked passage, to let my panic and fear subside a little and take stock of what had just happened. All my training had suddenly gone out of the window, as is so often the case when you finally become involved in a real-life situation. My colleague had deserted me and my observation officer was clearly not observing me, and I am convinced that, had I not been the man I was and taken the time to build a good working relationship with most of the lads on the spur, I would not have stood a chance of getting out of there without sustaining very serious injury or worse.
    The warbling sound of the alarm bell ringing snapped me out of my frozen state. The observation officer had obviously finally heard the commotion and raised the alarm. I glanced back through the door and felt relieved I