ONeils grin got wider, a dribble of bloody spittle snaking out from the corner of his ruined mouth. Every time.
This is what ye get for sticking a gun in my face, ye wee gobshite. Yezre now my pet project, Im going to screw with ye till I get bored of it, and then Im goin to have ye killed. She leaned forward, out of focus again, till her red mouth filled the screen. But dont worry, I dont bore that easy. I plan on screwin with ye for years.
Eighteen Months Later
3
Sadly, we continue to see a deplorable level of violence perpetrated by Mr Henderson. Dr Altringham rapped on the table with his knuckles, as if it was a coffin lid. He blew the floppy grey fringe out of his eyes. Adjusted his glasses. I really cant recommend release at this date. He represents a clear and continued danger to the general public.
Twenty minutes of this and I still hadnt climbed out of my seat, limped over to where he was sitting, and battered his brains out with my cane. Which was pretty good going, given how dangerous I was. Perhaps it was Officer Barbara Crawfords calming influence? She stood at my right shoulder, looming over me in my orange plastic chair, her thick knot of keys an inch from my ear.
Babs was built like a fridge freezer, tattoos sticking out from the sleeves of her shirt, wrapping around her wrists and onto the backs of her meaty hands. Barbed wire, flames. FAITH on one set of knuckles, HOPE on the other. Her short hair stood out from her head in tiny grey spikes, dyed blonde at the tips. Very trendy.
Theyd done their usual and arranged the furniture so the big table faced a single chair in the middle of the room. Me and Babs on this side, everyone else on the other. Two psychiatrists; one threadbare social worker with big square glasses; and the Deputy Governor, dressed as if she was on her way to a funeral. All talking about me as if I wasnt even there. Couldve stayed in my cell and saved myself the aggro.
We all knew where this was going anyway: release denied.
I leaned forward in my chair, ribs creaking from yesterdays beating. Every time, regular as clockwork. The only thing that changed was the cast and crew. ONeil got himself shanked in the showers four months ago. Taylor got released after serving half his term. Then it was two different Neanderthal bastards ambushing me in the corridors and delivering Mrs Kerrigans messages. And two more after them.
Didnt matter what I did, I always ended up back here, bruised and battered.
Release denied.
Even managed to track down the guy who replaced ONeil. Caught him on his own in the prison laundry. Broke both his arms, left leg, dislocated every finger he had, and his jaw. Mrs Kerrigan just got someone else to take his place. And I got an extra, unscheduled, arse kicking.
The Deputy Governor and the psychologists could hold all the review meetings they liked, the only way I was getting out of this place was in a body-bag.
I closed my eyes. Let it burn.
Never getting out of here.
The walking cane was cold between my fingers.
The walking cane was cold between my fingers.
Shouldve killed Mrs Kerrigan when I had the chance. Wrapped my hands around her throat and throttled the life right out of her. Eyes popping from the sockets, tongue swollen and black, hands scrabbling against mine while I squeezed and squeezed. Chest heaving on air that wasnt there
But no. Couldnt do that, could I? Had to play the good guy. The bloody idiot.
And what did that get me? Stuck in here till she got bored and had someone slit my throat. Or stab me in the kidneys with a home-made chib, sharpened on a cell wall and smeared with shit for a nice infected wound. Assuming I survived the blood loss.
No more stupid review meetings, just a trip to the infirmary, then on to the mortuary.
At least I wouldnt have to sit here, listening to Altringhams lies. Telling everyone how violent and dangerous I was
I ran my fingers up the cane till they got to the handle. Tightened my grip. Pulled my shoulders back.
Might as well live down to his expectations and remodel his smug lying face a bit. Could do some serious damage before they dragged me off. Had nothing to lose anyway. And at least Id get the satisfaction of-
Babss hand landed on my shoulder, her voice barely loud enough to count as a whisper. Dont even think about it.
Fair enough.
I let my shoulders slump again.
Dr Alice McDonald psychiatrist number two held up her hand. Now hold on a minute: the murder charge was dismissed. Her curly brown hair made a loose ponytail at the back of her head, a few stray wisps breaking free to glow in the overhead lights. Pale-lilac shirt cuffs poked out of the sleeves of her pinstripe suit. Mr Henderson didnt kill his brother, the evidence against him was fabricated. Its a matter of record. The appeal judge-
Im not talking about his brothers murder. Im talking about this. Altringham plucked a sheet of paper from the table in front of him and waved it. In the last eighteen months, hes assaulted and seriously injured seventeen other inmates. Every time he gets anywhere near being released, he attacks someone.
Weve been over this, its-
Yesterday, he broke a mans nose, and left another with a fractured cheek! Altringham knocked on the coffin again. Does that sound like the actions of someone we should be unleashing on an unsuspecting public?
Yeah, I got in a couple of good punches, till they forced me into a corner. Grinning and laughing. Letting me swing at them, so itd look better when they made their formal complaints. But what was I supposed to do, stand there and take it?
Even after all this time
Alice shook her head. Its hardly Mr Hendersons fault that he keeps being attacked. If the prison did a better job of managing inmate interactions, maybe he wouldnt have to defend himself the whole time.
The Deputy Governor narrowed her eyes. I resent any implication that this institution isnt doing its duty where custodial safety is concerned.
Altringham blew out a breath. No ones safe where Mr Hendersons concerned. Hes pathologically incapable of-
Thats not the case at all, theres a clear pattern to the attacks against Mr Henderson that-
Yes, and that pattern is his self-destructive personality! This is nothing more profound than a simple need to punish himself due to survivors guilt. Its not a conspiracy, its simple psychology and if you were able to see past your personal bias on this case youd know that.
Alice poked Altringham in the shoulder. I beg your pardon! Are you suggesting that Im incapable of-
The Deputy Governor slammed her folder down on the tabletop. All right, thats enough! She glared at Alice, then turned and did the same to Altringham. Were here to discuss Mr Hendersons release, or continued incarceration, like professionals. Not bicker and quarrel like small children. So, moving on. The Deputy Governor held out a hand. Dr McDonald, you have your report?
Alice pulled the top sheet from the leather folio in front of her and passed it over.
The Deputy Governor frowned at it for a bit, then turned it over and did the same with the back. Then placed it on the table. And Dr Altringham?
He slid his along to her and she frowned at that for a while too.
Officer Babs leaned in, her voice still an almost-whisper. Hows the arthritis?
I flexed my right hand, the knuckles all swollen and bruised from breaking ex-DI Graham Lumleys cheek. Worth it.
I keep telling you: lead with your elbows, or only punch the soft bits.
Yeah, well
The Deputy Governor put Altringhams report down on top of Alices, then sat up straight. Mr Henderson, after careful consideration-
Dont bother. I slouched further down in my plastic seat. We all know where this is going, so why dont we just cut to the bit where you send me back to my cell?
After careful consideration, Mr Henderson, and having reviewed all the evidence and expert analysis, it is my belief that your continuing use of violence necessitates your retention in this facility until a full investigation can be carried out into the events of yesterday.
So, same as usual then.
Stuck in here until Mrs Kerrigan finally got bored and had me killed.
Now
(Six Months Later)
Sunday
4
more from the scene as we get it. Edinburgh now, and the family of missing six-year-old Stacey Gourdon have issued an appeal, asking her abductors to return her remains The TV in the rec room was mounted in its own tiny cage, high up on the wall, as if the prison thought it was as likely to do a runner as all the other inmates.
Ex-Detective Superintendent Len Murray picked up a plastic chair and stuck it down next to mine. Settled into it, a smile distorting his Robin-Hood-style grey goatee. The strip-lights glinted off his bald head and little round glasses. A big man with a big rumbling voice. Youre going to have to kill her. You know that, dont you?
In her private cell, the woman on the television gave a grim nod. Stacey Gourdons bloodstained dress and trainers were found by officers searching woodland in Corstorphine
I stared at him. Dont you have something better to do?
Ash, the bog-hopping bitch is going to keep you in here till you top yourself, or she sends someone in to do it for her. Time to be proactive.
I mean, youve got what, four more years to serve? You should take up a hobby. Woodwork. Or learning Spanish.
The picture changed to a run-down two-up two-down in a manky council estate, a scrum of reporters jostling for position as the front doors opened and a hollow woman stared out with dead eyes and trembling fingers. A fat bloke just visible over her shoulder: bloodshot and sniffing, biting his bottom lip.
The woman cleared her throat. Looked down at her shaking hands. We Another go. We just want her back. We want to bury her. We want the chance to say goodbye
Len leaned back in his seat and slapped a hand down on my shoulder. Squeezed. I know a couple of lads wholl do the job for two grand.
I raised an eyebrow. Theyll go up against Andy Inglis for a measly two thousand pounds? Are they mad?
Theyre not local. And they need to get out of the country anyway. Besides: whod know?
please, shes our little girl Stacey was everything to her dad and me