The Loose Screw Read Free Page B

had got out when I did, as by this time the other inmates had joined the fray and were systematically destroying all the furniture and fittings on the spur. The noise was incredible as it now echoed around the confined space of the upstairs of the unit.
    I made my way downstairs to the unit's main office and just as I got there a dozen or so officers were steaming through the door into the unit from other parts of the prison. Most of this initial wave responding to the alarm bell comprised officers from the prison's so-called 'elite' security department. These men and women were responsible for all the prison's planned cell searches and 'takeouts' of prisoners and were always among the first to turn up during an incident, eager to 'get stuck in'. In reality, they were a pain in the arse, causing untold disruption and daily instigating most of the confrontations that occurred throughout the prison with their over-the-top actions.
    The worst offender of all was their principal officer, who was in charge of the security team. He really loved himself and thought he was a law unto himself. He had a well-expressed hatred for prisoners and loved every aspect of the job. He had, in fact, failed to get into the police force before opting for the Prison Service, and consequently rode a large white motorbike modified with fluorescent green flashes, so when kitted out in his Prison Service uniform he looked like a police biker. In fact there was a story going around that he had pulled up alongside a car that had overtaken him and flashed his Prison Service ID card at the occupants, only to be met in return with a metropolitan police warrant card produced by the plain-clothes officers in the car. I heard that as a result he had been done for imitating a police officer, but I am not sure how much of that story is true or how much was made up by the countless people that despised the man.
    Anyway, within ten minutes or so the remaining three spurs of the unit had been secured and all civilian staff and visitors had been escorted out and corralled in the main area by the unit office to await instructions from the unit governor. By now the inmates on spur three had had enough time to organise themselves into a fairly good defensive position by barricading the entrance onto the spur with the pieces of broken furniture, which had been entwined with any leftover parts of the metal beds that they had not armed themselves with. The noise coming from upstairs was deafening as they relentlessly beat the cell doors and perspex glass window to the spur office with their various tools. As news spread fast across the prison 'internet', prisoners located on other spurs in the unit and even on the house blocks in the main prison began to shout encouragement to the twelve renegades.
    Eventually the order came for all control and restraint level two or riot-trained staff on duty to get their riot kit out of the locker room and once dressed meet back in the unit's tea room. I had just completed my riot training a few weeks earlier, so I rather reluctantly followed the thirty-orso-strong contingent to the room where we kept our stores. As I struggled into my overalls and strapped on my plastic shin and knee protectors, I could hear the excited nervousness among the others as they spoke about "payback" and the chance to "get stuck into the cons". I just wanted to find out what could have happened to cause this problem in the first place, on what should have been an uneventful and routine Saturday.
    Once dressed and kitted out with our PR24 nightsticks and full-length riot shields, we filed back into the unit and crammed into the tearoom to await the briefing by the security PO. He entered the room, also kitted out in riot gear, and with a menacing grin on his face stood up on one of the chairs to deliver his game plan.
    "Gentlemen, ladies, we have got a situation that most of you are aware began about forty-five minutes ago when three inmates from spur three