42

I had been working my socks off training all day when I got a message from Mo to take Dad and Arty in the classroom that evening. So I did. When Mo arrived we were expectant but as usual we expected the worst; it was just the norm for prisoners. We sat in a circle. We waited. Mo started.

‘The chances of getting both of you out are slim to nonexistent, but you have a good chance, Dad, if your daughter will look after you.’

‘Is that it?’ asked Dad.

‘Well, let me give you the background.’ He waited and we nodded. ‘Okay, the power to grant early release is up to the Secretary of State for Justice. But they don’t do it very often; only about fifty people were granted permanent early release in the last five years.’

‘How many requested release?’ I asked.

‘It’s one of those things you can’t find out. I’ve obtained Prison Service Order six thousand and that tells me how it can be done but the conditions are strict. It may be considered if a prisoner is suffering from a terminal illness and death is likely to occur soon. You may fit that, Dad.’

‘May?’ I intervened.

‘Yes, the time limit is probably about three months. This is not an exact science, but they do expect the prisoner to be bedridden. The second kind of compassionate leave (note leave not release) is for family circumstances. I don’t think you can swing that one but it may be that things will change. Two issues are in the favour of compassionate release. The first is we’re in a rapidly aging general population and that applies equally to the prison population and applies to you, Dad. The other thing is the pressure on prisons as space is now at a premium and at the same time, the general population want criminals locked up.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘No, what do I do? I’m going to make the applications. I will forward two cases: this one and Old Man Peter’s. His is a dementia case.’

‘What do you need, Mo?’

‘Money.’

‘For what and how much?’

‘I need money for a barrister, and I have one in mind.’

‘How much?’

‘Not sure but it’ll be bloody expensive.’

‘How much?’

‘I reckon about fifty K.’

‘Okay, Mo, I’ll find that.’

They just looked at me.

‘Where from?’ said Arty. There was surprise in his voice.

‘I’ll just rob a bank.’

Dad started to laugh then stopped. ‘You will find the money, Jake?’

‘I’ll find the money, Dad.’

‘Mo, I want Arty out of here to look after Dad. It may require some clause that when Dad dies Arty comes back in and some bureaucratic rubbish like reporting to the police each day or a curfew, a tag, but I want Arty with Dad. I want you to write me two brilliant cases. I want the first one, not for a legal brain, but for a powerful politician who is also a businessman. It should contain the political arguments that are difficult to argue against and will appeal to the voters of both sides. I want a different case written for a barrister, a legal argument you know: issue, rule, application and conclusion. There’s two men I may be able to get to help us behind the scenes but they’ll be invisible so your guy won’t know.’

Mo gave me an inquisitive look.

‘Mo, I know some people who know some people, but I need the right tools for them and the tools are well-written briefs and these are not the briefs Officer Pretty Legs wears.’

They smiled; they had all watched Pretty Legs climb the stairs. Her skirts were shorter than they should be and her legs were longer than they had any right to be and the prisoners just watched her walk through the prison, hoping she would climb the stairs. She knew it so she teased us all.