Why Do Some Prisoners Always Fight?

“Be careful when you do your checks on him. He flashes violent, weapons and drugs and has really hurt some people in the past.”

I was posted in custody as the gaoler looking after the prisoners and the words of advice were from my sergeant. My duties were to assist the custody sergeant in basically keeping the prisoners alive; I was a glorified babysitter. In between that, I would keep them fed and watered, let them out for phone calls and interviews and fetch them other items such as blankets or magazines.

A young lad called Pete had just been brought in for a violent assault on somebody which had left them unconscious in hospital. Pete was well known in custody – he was always in and out and for a 17-year-old he had an impressively long criminal record.

He was placed in his cell and I went to see him in case he needed anything.

“Pete, do you want anything to eat or drink?” I asked him through the wicket.

“Would it be possible to get a cup of tea please mate?” he asked politely.

“Yep, no problem, anything to eat?”

“Yeh, can I have the chilli con carne please mate?”

I went and prepared the food and returned with it, opening the cell door and taking it to him.

“Cheers mate for that,” he said again. “I’ll have this and then probably get some sleep, can you dim the lights?”

I knew that I would be unable to because of a fault and told him so.

“Ah go on,” he pleaded with me.

“I’m not being difficult,” I said, “it genuinely doesn’t work.”

“But I won’t be able to sleep.”

I disappeared and had a chat with my skipper before returning to Pete’s cell.

“Right, the skipper has said I can move you to another cell with a light that does dim,” I told him. His face lit up into a smile.

“Ah cheers mate, that’s great,” he beamed. He picked up his food and blanket and trotted off down the corridor into his new cell.

“Mate I really appreciate this, thank you so much,” he said as I shut the door.

I began making my way back to the custody desk and saw that another male about 35 years old was being booked in for a public order offence.

“I don’t give a f*** who you are,” he slurred loudly at the skipper booking him in. “Do you not have a f****** clue who I am? I own a multi-million pound company.”

He was over six foot tall and well built, wearing expensive looking clothes and was leaning over the counter glaring at the sergeant.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you some questions that I ask everyone…”

“Oh f*** off,” he replied.

The sergeant attempted again to run through the risk assessment questions before he was interrupted again.

“I pay you’re f****** wages don’t forget, so just remember that,” he shouted angrily. “I’m an innocent person and I’m going to complain about all of this.”

“Sir, you’ve been arrested to…”

“Oh f*** off, Im quite clever” he slurred at the sergeant again. I winced, wondering how much patience the sergeant had left.

“Take him to a cell,” my skipper sighed.

The arresting officer tried to lead him to a cell, when the male began struggling.

Other officers became involved and moments later I was also on the floor struggling with the man.

It turned out he was indeed the owner of a multi-million pound company. He was well educated, completed university and was now living in a decent part of town. He had only been in trouble with the police once before for a public order offence a few years back and on paper should have been easy to look after. Yet he was determined to argue and fight with us.

Then there was Pete who has a huge criminal record, is violent, conceals weapons and can put people in hospital. Yet whenever he is in custody he is as good as gold. He knows the score and realises that being rude won’t help him. He is polite and civil and so is treated with respect. He knows that treating us properly means his life is more comfortable and he is more likely to get out quicker. I think I know who the clever one is.