Free Once Upon a Crime by Jimmy Cryans Page B

bland, non-regional type that the so-called middle classes adopt.
    That long hot summer stretched right into early October and by the end of it I was a rich mahogany colour. Anyone would have thought I had spent an extended stay in the Bahamas, except that almost everyone else looked the same. In early September I was arrested after going out on the town with John Renaldi. I got involved in an argument with a taxi driver and it had come to blows. I had knocked out a couple of his teeth.
    The taxi driver saw me escaping to a friend’s house and called the law who arrived in force and surrounded the house. It did not help matters when I taunted them from an upstairs window and told them to fuck off and get a life. The door was forced but I gave them a real fight before being overpowered and arrested. At court the next day I was refused bail and before I knew it I was on remand in Winchester prison. This was a bad jail at this time and had a reputation as being very tough on prisoners. It was what we convicts called a ‘screws’ jail’, meaning it was run totally by the screws with a very strict regime that would brook no nonsense.
    I was charged with a number of assaults, including some on the cops, with resisting arrest and with being in possession of a fireman’s axe as an offensive weapon, putting various people in fear of their lives. This was all worded to show me in the worst possible light and my lawyer informed me thatthey would throw the book at me in court with the possibility that I might receive a sentence of four years or more.
    There was a possible way out – if I pleaded guilty and agreed to a new alternative to custody. That meant being placed in a secure unit under a radical new therapy, which it was hoped would turn offenders away from a life of crime. But the real carrot for me was that the maximum amount of time you could spend there was 12 months. The unit was in a large country house with extensive grounds in the countryside.
    I gave the lawyer the OK to give it a go and try to persuade the courts that I was a suitable candidate. A couple of weeks later I appeared in court and it was a done deal. But nothing could have prepared me for the ordeal that lay ahead. I was about to enter the twilight zone where the lunatics had definitely taken over the asylum.

Chapter Fifteen
    R ight from the start it was obvious that undergoing therapy in was going to be no easy ride, and that my lawyer had been just a little bit too cute for my own good.
    On the day in court I was picked up from the cells by two psychologists from the unit and placed in their custody. I asked if I could see my ma, who was in the court, to say goodbye to her and I was told, ‘No. There will be no contact with anyone for at least the first three months. Also, there will be no letters received from or written to any relatives or friends and no contact of any kind with the outside world. This will include newspapers, television and radio. And do not attempt to talk to either of us or ask any questions of us during the journey. OK?’ And with those words of welcome we set off.
    The journey was to take about an hour-and-a-half and I passed the time familiarising myself with the route we were taking and making a mental note of road signs and towns. As we came to the entrance of the unit in the country house Inoted where we were. This information would prove to be useful to me sooner than I imagined.
    The house was a Georgian mansion at the end of a long driveway with well-manicured lawns to either side. After we had made our entrance I was taken to an office and told the rules and regulations. These were numerous and I quickly realised that this was going to be a totally alien environment for me. It was going to be very difficult, but nonetheless I decided to give it a go.
    There were about 15 other patients and I deliberately use the word ‘patients’ as that was what we were. Think of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, with the