My experience is with the death of a prisoner in a Category B prison, whether it is the same across the prison estate I really don’t know.
My partner, T, had been very seriously ill in 2009, part of his problem having been sepsis. He was told that he would have to take a prophylactic antibiotic every day for the rest of his life to prevent a recurrence of the infection. He never completely recovered after 2009 and wasn’t in the best of health when he was sent to prison in early 2017.
T didn’t enjoy the prison food, I don’t think many prisoners do, nutrition didn’t seem to be very important to those in charge. So, T’s diet left a lot to be desired, not a good situation for someone who was already in ill health.
At the end of summer 2018 T had some kind of review when he was told that the very earliest date that he would be considered for release on licence would be September 2024, but he knew that he would be unlikely to be released then as he was ‘maintaining innocence’, a statement that I both believed and supported. It was such a long time in the future. He was already struggling with the whole prison experience, and, to my mind, that marked a change in him. I believe that he gave up. During my fortnightly visits I had always been able to reach him, but it began to take longer and longer. I told him that I thought he had decided to die, his mother had done that, and it had made him very angry, T didn’t even respond to my statement.
Over the next few months T went downhill rapidly. Only seeing him every other Sunday I noticed a marked difference from visit to visit. I remember one visit at the end of November when I stood to hug him as he arrived in the visitor’s hall and I could feel all his ribs down his back, frightening. The following day I tried phoning the prison against T’s wishes, to speak to a medic and a chap phoned me back. Although he listened to my concerns he didn’t seem overly interested. It was very frustrating.
On my last visit before Christmas T was brought into the visiting hall in a wheelchair and remained in the wheelchair for the whole visit, it’s not easy to hug someone in a wheelchair. He had been to the hospital for a scan and was waiting for the results so at least something was being done. He looked absolutely awful; years older than just two weeks earlier.
T used to phone me every morning, during the last couple of weeks before Christmas another inmate had gone to the phone with him carrying a chair so that he could sit and speak to me. I bless that man for his kindness. On Christmas Day there was no phone call although T had warned me that the queues would be huge as all the prisoners wanted to speak to loved ones on the day so he might not ring. No phone call on Boxing Day either, now I was really worried. I phoned the prison and was given a number for safeguarding and told to ring a leave a message which I did. Some hours later I had a call from a prison officer, part of the safeguarding team, to tell me that T was in ICU in the local hospital. So much for all the signs around the prison about keeping the families involved being such a positive influence on reoffending.
By the time I got to the hospital the next day I was taken to one side by a doctor and told that T had cancer and sepsis and was terminal. They were waiting for a bed to become available in a general ward and ICU couldn’t offer any further help. Devastating, especially as they hadn’t told T. But on a very positive note, at least T wasn’t manacled to the bed which is very common with prisoners in an NHS hospital although he did have the obligatory two prison officers beside him.
After a few days T was moved into a general ward, again with his prison guards. I have to say that the prison officers, barring one, were very kind and considerate, at least as far as they could be. The one who wasn’t was simply completely unengaged and ignored both T and me. During this time, we were both offered support by the prison chaplain which was politely refused. I also met with a member of the palliative team in the hospital who told me that moves were being made for early release so that T could spend his last days with his loved ones, the family liaison officer had already told me about this. This member of the hospital staff also told me that, in the years that he had been doing the job, not one prisoner had lived long enough to be released. It seems that release on compassionate grounds is only considered when death will happen before any decision can be made.
By now the doctors had informed T of his terminal diagnosis and, as nothing more could be done for him in hospital, he was asked whether he would be happy to return to the hospital wing of the prison. I was also asked and was told that I would be able to be with my partner during his last few days. T decided that the prison hospital was where he preferred to be. And so he was doped up to the eyeballs on lots of morphine and transferred by a special ambulance, I was not allowed to go with him. A sign of things to come although I didn’t know it then.
The following day was my first experience of the prison hospital. I had to report to the gate, put almost all my possessions in a locker and then be escorted through the gates. While I cannot fault the treatment my partner and I received in the prison hospital, the staff were so kind, it immediately became obvious that the promise of being able to be with T all the time was not true, I could be with him all the time between 9 in the morning and 5 in the afternoon. I appreciate it was all about safety and manpower, but it was still a lie.
When your partner is in prison you become accustomed to all sorts of aspects of life that you never knew existed before. Those last few days with T were very special even in such circumstances, we said all that we needed to say and our love carries on. I also remember the many kindnesses which were afforded to us both from the simply wonderful nurses to the prison officer who suggested cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch, I had forgotten how good they were. Very special people who made those last few days a little easier.
Needless to say the end, when it came, was in the early hours of the morning. It was obvious the previous afternoon that T’s death was very near, and I asked whether I could stay overnight to be with him. The prison authorities, with their usual care and consideration, turned me down. I am told that a nurse was with him when he passed. Who knows?
I was allowed to see T’s body and to spend some time with him that morning, he looked very peaceful, and I will always be happy for that time. He was and still is the love of my life, a selfish love in later life that was about us, not about parenting or financial support, just us.
I have friends who are undertakers and they said they would drive to the prison to collect T for me when the time came to save me having to worry about it. I mentioned this to an assistant prison governor only to be told that it would not be necessary or possible. When a prisoner dies in custody the prison authorities become the next of kin, they deal with registering the death and the funeral. So much for being a wife! On a plus side you are given some say in the funeral arrangements and the prison authorities to pay for the funeral up to a certain amount. I asked whether the cremation could be midday so that our daughters and I could travel down and back in a day. The family liaison officer explained that they only booked the cheap slots i.e. first thing in the morning. So, we had to stay overnight.
The cremation was very simple and very moving, even the prison representatives found it so.
As far as the post-mortem, the Coroner’s Report and the final death certificate are concerned, we had to wait just over two years for the report and another three months for the certificate. I was issued with a Coroner’s Certificate of the Fact of Death very quickly although some services didn’t immediately recognise this including the bank. But a quick explanation allowed me to complete the necessary paperwork to allow T’s affairs to be settled.
In the early hours of the morning when I am struggling to sleep I play all this back in my mind, I have so many questions, firstly could I have done more? Should I have intervened sooner with the prison medics whether he liked it or not? Did the prison have T’s full medical history? Was anyone checking that he was actually taking his medication? I suspect the answer to that is no and that he wasn’t. There were also things on the post-mortem report which I question now, should I have asked at the time? It wouldn’t have changed the outcome. When T was still in hospital with the sepsis raging his major organs were shutting down except for his kidneys, then he went into kidney failure going from Stage 1 to Stage III in three days. But the post-mortem report said his kidneys were fine. And no mention was made of the sepsis.
Ultimately it was his life and his decision, and I respect that. Given what followed with the Covid pandemic I know he would really have struggled without visits and phone calls and being banged up for 23 hours a day. I cannot find it in my heart to wish that on him, he is now free and at peace.
If anyone reading this is a close family member of a prisoner who is suffering ill health, I urge them to establish contact with the prison medical authority to check that they have the prisoner’s full medical notes, and that any regular medication is still being prescribed.