Jorge Iván López Alzate wrote his experience in Pentonville and Brixton prisons by hand and decided to make it public in order to ‘help other Latinos who may have difficulties in England and, therefore, end up in these or any other prisons. Today, with his permission, we are publishing excerpts from his letter.
Forestgate Police Station
On 14 May 2009, I was taken to Forestgate police station. There, a female officer took my details and informed me that a DNA (saliva) sample would be taken to determine if I had or had used drugs. An officer repeated to me about the DNA test, adding that if they found traces of cocaine or heroin I would be charged as a drug dealer.
Stratford Court
On 15 May 2009, before entering the court in Stratford, I spoke to the lawyer assigned to me, who explained to me the seriousness of my situation: I could receive up to 10 years in prison. When I understood the gravity of my situation, I asked for a translator to understand everything in my case. She said it was not necessary because my English was good. So I was in the first court without a translator.
Pentonville Prison
I was sent to this prison on 15 May 2009. From the time I was detained (14 May) until 17 May, I was in the same dirty clothes (the worst was the underwear, shorts and socks) and I could not bathe until Sunday, because on that day they gave me clean clothes and sheets.
No one explained anything, not even how to buy the toiletries or who to ask for them. On Saturday morning, the 16th, a priest came to register the new people who wanted to go to mass and I took the opportunity to ask him for a roll of toilet paper because I was bursting at the seams.
On Sunday I was given clean sheets, boxers, socks and a sweatshirt. They had no clean blankets, so I continued to sleep with the dirty ones left by another prisoner in cell A4 25, which I shared with Mr. Snow, who explained to me how toiletries worked, and who they were ordered from and, in general, how Pentonville worked. Mr. Snow explained everything to me in English. Until that day I had not found any Latin Americans there to help me. If I had not understood Mr. Snow, what would I have done?
I asked to be allowed to go to English classes; I never heard back. In Pentonville you have to fill out two forms with your personal information and some important questions. But I received no real instruction. I didn’t even know the library and how it worked. I was locked up for two months without any extra activity and without being able to read anything.
I got sick, they took blood samples for tests, but when I received the note to go to the second medical appointment to get the results, they didn’t open the door. The officers tell you to wait ten minutes and they don’t come back. My cellmate explained to me that the alarm in the cell can only be set in emergencies, for example when someone is in danger.
I applied for the international card (every foreign prisoner is entitled to a card with three minutes of free calls), but I never received it. I decided to buy it through my personal canteen account. I spent £10 and £5 twice, but the cards never arrived. I made a claim and the officials told me to be patient.
They never gave me the money or the cards. The officers are always in a hurry when they hand out the canteen shopping packets and they make you sign the receipts before checking the packets, some of them are even in a bad mood.
In the same prison in Pentonville I was taken to another section; they called it ‘G wing’. I thought things would be different but it was worse. I was placed in cell G4 29, which had no ventilation because the window was covered with clear acrylic. Light came through, but no air came in and no air went out. The cell was very small. The toilet was right there and there was no way for the bad smell to get out when one of the prisoners used it, and if the temperatures were high, as they were those days, the situation was horrible.
On the same day, two police dogs died inside a car due to the heatwave in London. As the afternoon wore on, the situation in the cell was intolerable because of the heat. I spent all my time in there because I had not been approved for any extra activity. Socialising time was the only possibility for me to bathe.
Unfortunately, the water in the showers was too hot, but everyone’s complaints were ignored. The showers turned into saunas and if you added the unpleasant smell of the marijuana that some prisoners smoked there, it became a real hell.
I remember well the two characters who smoked marijuana, but I never said anything to avoid trouble. The fights there left people badly beaten up, even with wounds on their faces. The two months in Pentonville were real torture.
On 15 July I was taken to Inner London Crown Court. This time I had a translator, and I was represented by a very good lawyer that the Colombian consulate had arranged for me.
I was given a six-month sentence: three months in prison, two in Pentonville and one in Brixton (where he finished his sentence on 14 August).
HMP Brixton Prison
At first I found it very organised. As soon as I arrived I was given a set of clean clothes, sheets, blankets, clothes and other toiletries, including toilet paper. The next day I received a very good induction on how the prison works and what activities we could do.
They told us about therapies that helped to stop addictions, especially to alcohol and drugs. In one of the interviews I was asked what I couldn’t stand. I told them smoke (In Pentonville I was with smokers all the time).
On 16 July I was placed in cell A19, with the unpleasant surprise of having a chain-smoker as a cellmate, in a cell smaller than the one in Pentonville. To this day I have had 5 smoking companions, one with behavioural problems. He wouldn’t talk, and suddenly he would start convulsing and making weird noises with his nose; then he would start laughing loudly. This went on day and night. I could not sleep. I asked to change my cell, as I didn’t feel safe. In Pentonville I had read in a newspaper circulating in the prison that a prisoner had choked his partner with a pillow so that he could have sex with him. You will understand that it is normal that I did not feel safe. It is true that my cellmate could simply be insane or epileptic, but I was not prepared to take that risk
On several occasions I asked to be sent to the ‘B wing’ because that’s where all the Colombians are, but I that didn’t happen.
On 1 August I spoke to the duty officer at A2 level. I told him that I thought it was unfair that I had been trying to get a visit for two weeks, just because one night before the visit my visit order had been returned because I did not have a code.
Obviously I had no time to do anything and missed the visit. The officer told me that I had to follow the rules. I understand that, but they are often unfair. He just said: ‘Why did you break the law?’, so I understood their thinking. When you have committed a crime, you lose all your rights.
In this Brixton prison I have been able to attend English classes and there are many activities I can attend. It is only when I am locked up with smokers that life becomes very difficult for me, and answers like the one the officer gave me make me feel that in every second I can be judged again, not by a judge, but by an officer on duty and that the penalty is the violation of my rights. Thank you eternally for reading my letter and may God bless you today and always.
Jorge Iván López A.
P.S. I still can’t call Colombia. Here I also asked for the international card that the prison gives and I still haven’t received a reply. I have not tried to buy it, because I bought a set of stamps and they stole my money. I made a claim. I must be patient.
(Translated by Cristina Popa – Email: gcpopa83@gmail.com) – Photos: Pixabay
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