Two days bad news

Sitting in my cell on Wednesday awaiting the call from the call for lunch, the natural light at the cell door darkened. I looked up and there stood the prison chaplain.

The words that swamped me were, 'Here's bad news.' And before he could speak, I was trying to guess what awful lot had fallen the family.

I was filled with dread because a recent appearance of a chaplain, back at Swaleside, brought the devastating news of my father's death.

You learn to cope with your own bad news, but it comes as a real shock that others in life, others really important to you, are battling with Fate, too.

The chaplain grabbed me to stop me falling. 'It's okay, Roger, it's not seriously serious, it's not about someone dying.'

But, of course, it was serious. The chaplain said the news was about my handicapped brother. Andrew had suffered a stroke. 'He's being treated in hospital. It's the best place for him.'

The chaplain had phoned the hospital to get the latest news. 'They told me he's comfortable. He is showing positive signs of recovery.'

Later I phoned the family. They said Andrew is making good progress. That was good to hear.
But it was disturbing to learn that it took two days for the news to reach me. It emphasisied how cut off you are when they send you to prison. At times like this, you feel especially isolated and helpless and in another world.

I'm the one sent down for a crime I did not commit, yet over the seven years of injustice, three members of my family have died. Our Dad died in 2005, my sister Helen's husband died in 2006, and a favourite aunt died in 2007.

My story is here. I would like you to know about me and this mistake by the British criminal justice system.