'It was a long, dark night of the soul': What the first 24 hours in prison is really like

The door slammed shut behind me and I looked around and thought, is this it? It was an empty room with a bucket in the corner. No sink, no toilet, certainly no TV. And I had no pad mate that first night, just me alone with the noises that you never, ever forget – the shouting, screaming, laughing and banging. It was a long, dark night of the soul, looking up at the ceiling and wondering how I ended up in there. How I ended up in prison.

Of course, I knew really how I ended up there. I knew what I’d done. 

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Aged 16, I stabbed an older man nine times. It was a section 18 – wounding with intent – and I was given four years inside. So yes, I was a violent young man and I’d broken the law. I’d made a lot of bad choices. That first night, I was really nervous and anxious. Scared, even. But I resigned myself too my fate – and I promised myself I’d never let anyone see me scared. Nobody was going to give me grief or walk over me. So I put on a front.

It was exhausting because I’d already been on the run for a long time. Me and a few other gang members were probably some of the most wanted people in the North East for a time. I was trying to hide where I was, and now, in prison, I was trying to hide who I was.

The first 24 hours inside involved a lot of anxiety – and not many smiling faces. People certainly weren’t pleased to see you – they just needed to get you through the process. You’re taken from court to the local prison and put through the reception process. You give your name and in return you’re given a number. You’re asked questions, and they take a note of your height and a description of how you look. I was then subjected to a strip search to make sure I wasn’t taking any contraband in – drugs, etc. That was pretty dehumanising. 

You’re looking around you and feeling brand new and you look at everyone else and think they must’ve been inside forever. As though they’re experienced and you’re just wet round the ears and sticking out like a sore thumb. After three or four hours you’re taken from reception and walked through the prison into a cell. That first night is when it really hit home. That was one of the longest nights of my life but, at the end of the day, I knew I’d broken the law. I knew I was a violent person. I had to accept my fate.

You never forget the noise. The banging of the cell doors, the echo of the noises, people trying to pass lines to each other, drugs and stuff, and threatening one another from the windows. It literally is a jungle in there.

When I first went inside I was determined to get through the sentence by sheer will and I was determined that I wouldn’t let anyone take liberties with me. I kind of thought I would learn as much as I could about crime when I was inside, so when I was released I’d be a better criminal. That’s what I thought at the time, as ridiculous as it seems now. 

But after that first night, that’s when things start to happen. You’re given meetings with various people – doctors, your personal officer, your probation officer. And then you get to meet the other people on your wing. There’s good and bad everywhere, and, in prison, there are people who absolutely need to be in there, and there are others who made terrible choices under the influence or because of desperate situations. And, while we all know the system is completely broken, there are people inside who genuinely want to help you and who are doing the best they can – and I count both staff and inmates in that. There are whole services designed to support you in turning your life around in terms of your mental health, behaviours and educational ability – you just need to be willing to engage with them. 

I was given quite a bit of support from educational workers and the gym staff, as well as fellow inmates. Through them – and there are too many to mention from my two sentences – I found purpose and I found hope. 

Prison is a punishment, but it’s also educational – and that’s good for everyone. In many ways it was everything I expected but magnified a thousand times. In some ways it was much worse, but in many ways it was much better than I could have imagined. It was much worse violently and emotionally, but it was much better spiritually and philosophically. I got a chance to read, and I got a chance to explore the inner space because you can’t go far in a prison cell. I had the time to educate myself and I learned a lot from other prisoners and staff. It’s never failure if it’s a lesson.

Today, I run a community interest company , Positive Directions NE, and I spend a lot of time supporting others who have made mistakes or bad decisions who want to change for the better. I do think hearing from others who have been there is sometimes the best way to inspire hope and change, and that’s why we’ve launched the Hope in Hell podcast – to show that there is another way if you want to take it.

My advice to anyone who finds themselves facing a prison sentence is never get in debt, stay away from drugs, and stay out of other people’s business. You really need to take care to stay as safe as you can in there. Think ahead and try to get some sort of plan in place for the future so when you hit the street the street doesn’t hit you back. 

I always say, use the time – don’t let the time use you.

Hope in Hell is a brand new fortnightly series turning the volume up on society’s forgotten voices and featuring a range of inspiring guests who have made bad decisions or faced adversity and, ultimately, found hope in hell. Visit the YouTube channel or tune into the Hope in Hell podcast on Spotify for more.

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