Continued from part one: http://allpoetry.com/poem/2700540
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The ill-fitting suit stretched tightly across his shoulders as Richard sat defiantly in the court. The courtroom was packed with protesters and a buzz of anticipation filled the place. He was barely listening to the jumble of voices that surrounded him when the sea of faces turned towards him as a voice calling his name cut through the air.
“Richard John McDowell…..” the hair at the back of his neck stood up in recognition that he was being addressed by the clerk of the court.
His shoulders tensed in response and his jacket strained against him. As his mind became alert, the proceedings started in front of him. His prepared defiant response ran once more through his mind and out of his mouth towards the panel of magistrates sat at the bench. He was determined not to give in, principles were at stake, and he along with many other defendants before him was prepared to go to prison for those principles.
Refusing before the court to make the ‘poll tax’ payment, he was found guilty and ordered to serve a prison sentence of three weeks, when he would then be brought back before the court.
In less that twenty minutes from start to finish, the case had completed and he was now a convicted man. He suddenly felt strong hands urging him away from the dock guiding him away from the courtroom, leading him down the dingy stairway towards the holding cells below.
The cell was a dimly lit room, furnished only with a built in bed sporting a thin rubber covered mattress. The door closed loudly behind him leaving him in the silence of the room along with the fading sound of the prison officer’s footsteps as he headed back his desk. Richard shivered as the chill of the room seeped through his jacket.
Only muffled sounds could be heard through that silence of the cell and he slowly sank down onto the mattress as his adrenalin returned to normal. All he could do was wait for his future to unfold, but his determination remained unaltered in his resolve to stand his ground.
An hour passed followed by a second, sounds of footsteps, a cell closing and muffled voices occasionally breaking the silence beyond that locked door.
With only his own thoughts to keep him company, Richard finally allowed his heavy eyelids to close, only to be woken abruptly by the clanking of keys and the heavy lock being opened on his cell.
The brighter light from the corridor silhouetted the uniformed prison officer as the door opened wide. He stood there, clipboard in his hand and looked directly towards Richard.
“Richard John McDowell?” His voice boomed in the silence. Richard nodded acknowledging his name.
“Right, come on, you are to be taken to Elmley Prison, the van is waiting”.
Richard pulled himself upright, and stood up from the bed. His eyes still adjusting to the brighter light of the corridor, he walked out of the cell, where firm hands of a second prison officer, once more guided him to follow behind the first.
Walking up stairs and along yet another corridor, they finally reached the end where a third uniformed prison guard stood, in front of a closed doorway. Richard listened to the exchange and watched as the guard at the door signed some papers on the others clipboard.
Turning to Richard he then once more asked for confirmation of his identity and once satisfied with his response, opened the door. A cool blast of fresh air rushed in and the sunlight was almost blinding as the door opened fully, revealing the open rear doors of a black prison van, barely a few feet outside in an enclosed courtyard.
Richard found himself being urged firmly towards the van, he climbed in not saying a word as the officer stepped in behind him.
“ Right, get yourself seated and we will be off. It’s only half an hour’s drive there” the officer said trying to sound a little cheerful.
Once Richard was seated, the officer climbed back out of the van closing and locking the doors behind him. He could hear the voices outside and the guard’s footsteps on the concrete as he walked towards the passenger door. Behind a steel grill between the back of the van and the front, Richard could see that the driver was already seated there, ready and waiting. As the passenger door opened, and the guard climbed in, then with a quick glance into the rear of the van to ensure that all was as it should be, the engine started. Almost immediately the van moved forward towards the compounds gates, which were now opening to the outside world.
Richard watched bemusedly as they passed out of the compound and into the streets of the town. The windows of the van were of darkened glass, but he could see through to the outside world clearly. Roads, cars and shops passed by as the van headed towards the main road, leaving Maidstone in the distance.
The Kent countryside flashed past the windows in a blur. Elmley prison was only a short distance to travel. It wasn’t long before Richard could make out the outer walls of his future residence for the next three weeks.
As the vehicle approached the prison, it slowed to the local 30mph speed limit giving Richard a long view of the building as they approached.
Elmley was a new prison and had only been opened to accept prisoners during the previous year. It was a new building, set in the small town of Eastchurch in Kent. A rather unimposing looking structure with cream painted walls and tiled roof and stood surrounded by a 20-foot high perimeter fence.
To the right of the building was a pair of large brown solid gates in the wall of the building itself and facing them is where the van finally pulled up. As if by magic, the large gates slowly opened to reveal a small courtyard beyond.
The van slowly passed through the gates and no sooner had they stopped, the gates closed behind them trapping them within the yard.
Eventually the two officers got out of the van and were joined by two others who had emerged from the building. The rear doors of the van were then unlocked and opened letting in the fresh air from outside but also still tinged with the smell of diesel exhaust fumes from the van.
Two guards appeared in the opening, one of them addressed him with an almost imperceptible smirk, “ Right, let’s be having you, out you get, welcome to Elmley Prison”
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Continued in part 3
http://allpoetry.com/poem/2703366
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