{"id":2818,"date":"2014-10-22T08:50:11","date_gmt":"2014-10-22T07:50:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.longkeshinsideout.co.uk\/?p=2818"},"modified":"2014-10-22T08:50:11","modified_gmt":"2014-10-22T07:50:11","slug":"made-for-life-a-belfast-boy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.longkeshinsideout.co.uk\/?p=2818","title":{"rendered":"Made for Life: A Belfast Boy"},"content":{"rendered":"

Made for Life.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The room is square and stuffy. The paint threatens to fall in big powdery blue flakes. The lino floor is scrubbed clean but still exudes a dirty look.\u00a0 There are no windows. Only one steel door secured from the outside. There are 10 of us here.\u00a0 There is a strange mix of despair and fanatical hope. \u00a0Me, I am resigned to my fate. Perversely we are all dressed well. \u00a0I wear a tie for the first time in years.\u00a0 At least if Im going to be hammered I\u2019ll look well.\u00a0 My emotions flip flop. I don\u2019t care, then I really do care. But I already know what is going to happen. A deal has been arranged. Plead guilty and you\u2019ll get of lightly. Just \u2019 life\u2019 my solicitor said. Sounds easy. \u00a0You wait your remand time until this day. Glad to get it over with yet afraid to get it over with. \u00a0The death of my free life. But then again I did kill someone, in fact a few people.\u00a0 I joined the organisation to be a soldier. \u00a0To fight, kill and die if need be. It has led me here Court Number 1, Crumlin Road Courthouse.\u00a0 Or Belfast City Commission if you want to be picky. People walk in and out of the room.\u00a0 One man comes back from the reserve court crying. The man (I don\u2019t know him) has got 2 years prison and he\u2019s gurning.\u00a0 I feel like going over and slapping him.\u00a0 But he\u2019s a crim.\u00a0 Some of my friends have got 35 years minimum. Different standard. \u00a0Different people. I am one of the lucky ones. I have special category status. Many do not. All the talk at the minute is about the H-Blocks and protests. I will return to the cages in the Kesh. To talk and walk and study.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>This is a Diplock court. Only one judge.\u00a0 No jury. \u00a0Most times no evidence at all except a confession. \u00a0Freely given of course, not beaten or threatened out of people you understand.\u00a0 I wonder at the logic of using a criminal system to deal with a political problem.<\/p>\n

Soon it\u2019s my turn. The screw barks out my name.\u00a0 I exit the door and am surrounded by screws who will walk me up the stairs to the dock. \u00a0I enter into the bright light which hurts my eyes.\u00a0 The colours are bright. Anything is bright after a while in \u2018A\u2019 wing of the Crum. \u00a0I feel the tension in the screws that stand beside me. And there he is. Sitting on his own, right in front of me. I\u2019m not even told his name. The blood red robes give him away.\u00a0 He does look silly. \u00a0But I think, this is what I am defending.\u00a0 The court is huge. There loads of other people but it still feels empty. Barristers and hangers on. \u00a0Peelers. \u00a0The press. \u00a0No doubt the \u2018Tele man\u2019. More news to pass on. I have asked my family not to attend. Saves the pain on them and on me.\u00a0 This is the loneliest place in the world. The people on my right I don\u2019t recognise. Victims\u2019 families? There is a curious expression on their faces.\u00a0 Not hate nor hurt. \u00a0I did not know any of my victims nor do I know these people. I do feel sorry for their pain and misery. A loved one missing. I felt that way myself one time.\u00a0 I expect some emotion, some outburst. But there is none. \u00a0I don\u2019t want to stare. I catch one woman\u2019s eye. It plain to see that she has been crying.<\/p>\n

The clerk reads out the charges. There is a lot and it takes\u00a0 a while. \u00a0At one point she takes a sneaky look at me.\u00a0 \u2018How do you plead\u2019? I hear the word come out. It\u2019s me but sounds like someone else. \u00a0\u2018Guilty\u2019.\u00a0 The judge is saying something. I can barely hear him.\u00a0 Can he not bloody speak up? \u00a0I lose interest.
\nI have a mix of feelings. Afraid yet calm. I did not do these things for myself but for my people,\u00a0 my country.\u00a0 Hundreds more will stand here like me, \u00a0young and idealistic.\u00a0 Wanting to do their bit. Thousands will travel this path. Some will stay longer than others. I count myself lucky that Im here at all. I got winged by a .38 one night in an accidental discharge. It travelled through my shoulder without doing much damage.\u00a0 We went to the back street doc who actually done a very good job. \u00a0I hurt for a while. Many of us have paid the full price for our beliefs and actions. \u00a0I wonder what, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cDieu et mon droit\u201d \u00a0\u00a0means. Its written on the crest on the wall above his lordship. \u00a0God and my right? \u00a0\u00a0It says \u2018For God \u2018on our badge. \u00a0I wonder who will get his backing.<\/p>\n

Their voices drift off and I am suddenly back in primary school. \u00a0Its only 10 years ago. \u00a0Amazing. \u00a0I will be 20 years old in 3 days\u2019 time. I\u2019m sitting at my desk in school, looking at the window at the beautiful blue sky. I\u2019m day dreaming of being outside kicking football or playing tig in the street.\u00a0 I watch the fluffy clouds scud across the sky. I\u2019m an ordinary boy interested in football, cheesers and going round to the sweetie shop. \u00a0\u20184 fruit salad for a penny please\u2019.\u00a0 I remember my Granny\u2019s house. The smell of home baking, of fresh linen and\u00a0 carbolic soap in the sink. My Granny spoilt all of us rotten. I loved her. What would she think today? I had never dreamed of killing people or belonging to one of the most violent organizations in Europe. But then again I never dreamed of the killing and carnage I would see as a child.\u00a0 The bombs exploding.\u00a0 My mother crying in fear.\u00a0 I was a child but I put my arm round her shoulder. Walking behind a funeral with the anger and the sorrow.\u00a0 We had played cowboys and Indians. In summer we ran and shot guns and arrows and laughed. We fell to the ground pretending to be dead. But we all got up at the end and went home for supper.\u00a0 A thought comes to my mind that in my entire family not one person has been in trouble with the law. I\u2019m about to make up for that.\u00a0 Big time.<\/p>\n

I suddenly realise my wigman is saying something. He\u2019s much more clear. He says such nice things about me. This place reminds of a school trip to theatre. \u00a0Everyone knows their lines and the story and plot has already been set out. Maybe Dylan was right. We live in a land were justice is a game.\u00a0 I have missed the first part of the sentencing. \u00a0\u00a0I get snatches of what he\u2019s prattling on about. \u2018Shame\u2019, \u2018disgraceful\u2019, \u2018waste of life\u2019.\u00a0 I wish I could say \u2019are you finished yet\u2019. But that\u2019s not part of the script.\u00a0 20 Years for possession, 20 years for\u00a0 attempted, 20 years for that. The court is holding its breath.\u00a0 What do they want from me.\u00a0 Tears?\u00a0 Pleading? Outburst?\u00a0 I say nothing and look straight ahead.<\/p>\n

Suddenly the screw pulls my arm. \u00a0At last, \u2018let\u2019s go joe\u2019. And it\u2019s down the steps. I hear one screw say to another, \u2018Life sentence\u2019. Sounds strange. Is that me? And I realise it is now.\u00a0 Back down to the happy room. Faces look up at me. I feel nothing.\u00a0 Just get back to the cell. I\u2019m reading a good book at the moment. Wonder how it ends. Wonder how this will end? \u00a0Friends ask me what happened and I tell them. The room goes quiet. Another man is taken out. He too will get life.\u00a0 When it is all over we are handcuffed together and walked back through the tunnel. \u00a0Instead of going back to A wing we am taken to another part, a virtual dungeon, to spend the first night.\u00a0 No longer remand but sentenced. My big day has come and gone. A total anti-climax. \u00a0Tomorrow will be the first day of my new life.
\nThe cell is dirty, damp and dark. A single bare bulb hangs from the high ceiling. The puke coloured paint is flaking off. I lie on my bed staring at the ceiling and thinking. Of empty chairs and tearful parents.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A Belfast Boy.<\/strong><\/p>\n

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