6/5/2008Barlinnie - Somewhere You Never Forget
THERE are two ways into Barlinnie. One is through the revolving door at the main entrance for visitors and staff. The other is via one of the white Reliance vans that draw up here, every so often.
The first way is, by some distance, the better one.
Barlinnie's prisoner reception area is the busiest in Scotland. The output from the sheriff and district courts is sometimes so heavy that the processing can drag on beyond 10pm. Most of the prisoners, however, already know the drill.
"Nine out of 10 coming in have been in custody before," says operations manager Arshaq Ahmad. "Only one on 10 will never have seen the inside of a jail."
Val Parry, manager at Barlinnie's Learning Centre, says: "There aren't many first offenders here. The typical prisoner has been in a List-D school, then a Young Offenders' Institution, and has worked his way up through the system.
"If I go up to the Halls, they all greet me - Hi, Val' - because they know me from years back. But now I see people I saw in Shotts 17 years ago.
"You get some who do the equivalent of a life sentence here - in and out, in and out."
The turnover of prisoners is remorseless. "In any given month, a third of Barlinnie's prisoner population, some 500 men, will leave," Mr Ahmad says. "You've got upwards of 460 liberations' a month, and between 90 and 100 transfers out.
"And you'll get another 600-700 coming in to replace them."
The new prisoners - who in some cases have been wearing the same clothes for days - are brought in. Some are on remand, which means they haven't actually been convicted of anything.
They're given two filled rolls, a bottle of water and a cup of tea, and put into tiny holding cubicles for an hour or so. An officer scribbles the prisoner's surname on the door with a marker pen.
EACH cell holds one man, which is all there is room for. Years ago, though, three men would be crammed into each one.
Lack of money is the only reason why these claustrophobic cupboards, condemned by successive HM prison inspectors, have not been replaced.
Each arrival sits in a special, US-made metal detector chair, which can tell if he's secreted a lock-back knife or mobile phone in his body.
Mr Ahmad says: "Lock-back knives can kill you. This machine stops them coming in."
The prisoners are photographed and asked if they feel inclined to suicide or self-harm. They don orange-coloured prison-issue clothes, and are accompanied to the First Night Centre, up in E Hall.
This centre smoothes the often terrifying experience of being in Barlinnie for the first time.
For the casual visitor, the experience is a sobering one: the jangle of the keys in locks, the unstoppable flow of the whole process, the knowledge that these befuddled, pale-skinned new arrivals are about to be deprived of their liberty.
Prison staff are on the lookout for any aggression from the newcomers.
"Most of our assaults happen within the first 20 days of admission," says Mr Ahmad.
It's not unknown for old scores or drug debts from the outside to be settled here.
Up in E Hall ("our newest one - built in 1890"), the First Night staff are awaiting the new arrivals.
"Before, they used to go straight to the Halls, but nowadays we try to identify and address any needs they may have," says officer Alex Holligan, 33. "We hold them here for one night, then allocate them spaces in the other Halls."
Monday is the busiest night, with several dozen men arriving here from the custody courts after the weekend.
On an average Monday, Mr Holligan will chat to around 20 new arrivals.
He has his spiel off by heart. Some won't want to talk - but many others, terrified at finding themselves in this imposing jail, will respond positively to the personal approach.
"We explain what happens to them here, and why. We tell them what we expect from them, and how we can help, says Mr Holligan.
"For a lot of prisoners, their first concern is, Can I get in touch with my family to let them know I'm here?' and What is going to happen to me?'.
"We try to alleviate some of the pressures to give them a better understanding of what is happening to them."
The staff go out of their way to ease vulnerable first-timers into the Barlinnie regime.
"They are more susceptible to pressure, to the unknown, and we usually spend an extra five minutes with them," says Mr Holligan.
"God forbid I ever end up in prison, but I would expect and appreciate that extra five or 10 minutes.
"A friendly face can make all the difference. I'm quite chatty, and I don't judge people. This sort of thing can happen to anybody.
"If the guy is frightened, you'll do your best to make him feel better. If getting a phone call straightaway helps, we'll do that.
"I'll give them some time to talk and to make them feel human. I'll ask them about the circumstances of their crime, about their background and their family.
"One thing you don't do is patronise them. If you do, the barriers go up right away. But I can talk to them on their own level.
"Obviously, we're still in a prison environment, and you still need to have that element of control, but we are now far more sensitive to the needs of people who come in here."
Interpreters are on hand for any foreign nationals with little or no grasp of English.
The First Night process is followed the next day when the new arrivals undergo induction at the Links Centre, where any issues - substance misuse, family issues, offending behaviour issues - can be addressed by staff or partner agencies.
It's not hard to see why the last HM inspection at Barlinnie described the First Night process as excellent.
Prisoner Edward Dearie, 24, from Dalmarnock, a few weeks into a 22-month sentence, seems to appreciate it. "If you have any questions, or aren't sure about anything, you can just ask. If you want to book a visit or anything, they tell you the procedure," he says.
ALEX Holligan says: "It has been described as a great success, but for it to succeed, everybody has got to work together.
"I think the prisoners appreciate it. Sometimes you get prisoners who are in and out of here all the time, and can't be bothered with it. People can only be helped if they want to be helped."
Even as he speaks, the sound of hefty footsteps on the stairs signals the arrival of the first new prisoner.
The first way is, by some distance, the better one.
Barlinnie's prisoner reception area is the busiest in Scotland. The output from the sheriff and district courts is sometimes so heavy that the processing can drag on beyond 10pm. Most of the prisoners, however, already know the drill.
"Nine out of 10 coming in have been in custody before," says operations manager Arshaq Ahmad. "Only one on 10 will never have seen the inside of a jail."
Val Parry, manager at Barlinnie's Learning Centre, says: "There aren't many first offenders here. The typical prisoner has been in a List-D school, then a Young Offenders' Institution, and has worked his way up through the system.
"If I go up to the Halls, they all greet me - Hi, Val' - because they know me from years back. But now I see people I saw in Shotts 17 years ago.
"You get some who do the equivalent of a life sentence here - in and out, in and out."
The turnover of prisoners is remorseless. "In any given month, a third of Barlinnie's prisoner population, some 500 men, will leave," Mr Ahmad says. "You've got upwards of 460 liberations' a month, and between 90 and 100 transfers out.
"And you'll get another 600-700 coming in to replace them."
The new prisoners - who in some cases have been wearing the same clothes for days - are brought in. Some are on remand, which means they haven't actually been convicted of anything.
They're given two filled rolls, a bottle of water and a cup of tea, and put into tiny holding cubicles for an hour or so. An officer scribbles the prisoner's surname on the door with a marker pen.
EACH cell holds one man, which is all there is room for. Years ago, though, three men would be crammed into each one.
Lack of money is the only reason why these claustrophobic cupboards, condemned by successive HM prison inspectors, have not been replaced.
Each arrival sits in a special, US-made metal detector chair, which can tell if he's secreted a lock-back knife or mobile phone in his body.
Mr Ahmad says: "Lock-back knives can kill you. This machine stops them coming in."
The prisoners are photographed and asked if they feel inclined to suicide or self-harm. They don orange-coloured prison-issue clothes, and are accompanied to the First Night Centre, up in E Hall.
This centre smoothes the often terrifying experience of being in Barlinnie for the first time.
For the casual visitor, the experience is a sobering one: the jangle of the keys in locks, the unstoppable flow of the whole process, the knowledge that these befuddled, pale-skinned new arrivals are about to be deprived of their liberty.
Prison staff are on the lookout for any aggression from the newcomers.
"Most of our assaults happen within the first 20 days of admission," says Mr Ahmad.
It's not unknown for old scores or drug debts from the outside to be settled here.
Up in E Hall ("our newest one - built in 1890"), the First Night staff are awaiting the new arrivals.
"Before, they used to go straight to the Halls, but nowadays we try to identify and address any needs they may have," says officer Alex Holligan, 33. "We hold them here for one night, then allocate them spaces in the other Halls."
Monday is the busiest night, with several dozen men arriving here from the custody courts after the weekend.
On an average Monday, Mr Holligan will chat to around 20 new arrivals.
He has his spiel off by heart. Some won't want to talk - but many others, terrified at finding themselves in this imposing jail, will respond positively to the personal approach.
"We explain what happens to them here, and why. We tell them what we expect from them, and how we can help, says Mr Holligan.
"For a lot of prisoners, their first concern is, Can I get in touch with my family to let them know I'm here?' and What is going to happen to me?'.
"We try to alleviate some of the pressures to give them a better understanding of what is happening to them."
The staff go out of their way to ease vulnerable first-timers into the Barlinnie regime.
"They are more susceptible to pressure, to the unknown, and we usually spend an extra five minutes with them," says Mr Holligan.
"God forbid I ever end up in prison, but I would expect and appreciate that extra five or 10 minutes.
"A friendly face can make all the difference. I'm quite chatty, and I don't judge people. This sort of thing can happen to anybody.
"If the guy is frightened, you'll do your best to make him feel better. If getting a phone call straightaway helps, we'll do that.
"I'll give them some time to talk and to make them feel human. I'll ask them about the circumstances of their crime, about their background and their family.
"One thing you don't do is patronise them. If you do, the barriers go up right away. But I can talk to them on their own level.
"Obviously, we're still in a prison environment, and you still need to have that element of control, but we are now far more sensitive to the needs of people who come in here."
Interpreters are on hand for any foreign nationals with little or no grasp of English.
The First Night process is followed the next day when the new arrivals undergo induction at the Links Centre, where any issues - substance misuse, family issues, offending behaviour issues - can be addressed by staff or partner agencies.
It's not hard to see why the last HM inspection at Barlinnie described the First Night process as excellent.
Prisoner Edward Dearie, 24, from Dalmarnock, a few weeks into a 22-month sentence, seems to appreciate it. "If you have any questions, or aren't sure about anything, you can just ask. If you want to book a visit or anything, they tell you the procedure," he says.
ALEX Holligan says: "It has been described as a great success, but for it to succeed, everybody has got to work together.
"I think the prisoners appreciate it. Sometimes you get prisoners who are in and out of here all the time, and can't be bothered with it. People can only be helped if they want to be helped."
Even as he speaks, the sound of hefty footsteps on the stairs signals the arrival of the first new prisoner.
