Over the course of an hour, a steady trickle of supporters came walking up the road. All expressed shock at the size of the prison. By eight o’clock, thirty of Jack’s family and friends had arrived. Loose groupings formed in the crowd as people milled around, chatting to one another. Everybody seemed to expect that someone else would start the demonstration. Ben realised he would have to take the initiative himself. He began to shuttle from group to group, asking people to form a marching column for the protest. The idea was to walk in pairs and form a line that Ben would lead in a procession, in full view of the main gate. Several people had made placards and many of the younger supporters had brought aerosol horns. Ben asked everyone to shout ‘Free Jack P’ in chorus and generally make a din in any way they could. After shuttling round, Ben went to the front of the column and started to march, holding up a placard with a large picture of his father. Friends and family fell in neatly behind Ben. He led them in a large circle in front of the main gate while the guard in the hut looked on calmly, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. Sarah was shouting with great enthusiasm and it encouraged other people to do the same. Soon there was a loud chorus of ‘Free Jack P, Free Jack P, Free Jack P’ and Ben began to wish he had thought of some more words. Intermittently, the chorus took a break while one supporter with a loud-hailer ranted against the prison authorities and demanded Jack’s release. Still they continued marching, but Ben began to wonder how long they could keep it up. At half past eight, Stude appeared with Mike, Lee and Loz, plus several others whom Ben didn’t recognise. They were very well prepared, all wore practical clothing and carried small backpacks which contained food and other useful provisions. The strangers each carried a loud-hailer like a standard issue weapon. They were flying pickets, people who made it their job to demonstrate against the authorities. Flying pickets were the descendants of those who used to support striking workers by travelling to a protest to provide support, even though they didn’t work for the same company as the strikers. The pickets looked at the on-going demonstration approvingly. One of them asked Ben if he was the organiser and commended him on a job well done. Stude was impressed with the turnout Ben had secured and congratulated him. The newcomers all attached themselves to the marching column near the front, where Stude and his friends began chanting with the rest of the crowd. The pickets took up their loud-hailers and the volume of the spectacle quadrupled. ‘You really have done a good job at organising this,’ Stude repeated to Ben. ‘Was it you who got everyone walking in formation like this?’ ‘Well, yeah,’ replied Ben, he had thought nothing of it. ‘Nice one, a bit of leadership ability there, eh?’ Ben knew he had done a lot of organising, but never thought of himself as a leader. At that moment he felt proud. ‘When are the press arriving?’ Stude asked. ‘I don’t know,’ said Ben with a hint of worry, ‘there’s been no sign of them.’ ‘Better give Mick a ring.’ Ben took out his mobile phone. When the call was answered, Ben didn’t even have time to ask where Mick was before the journalist was firing questions of his own. He wanted to know how the demo was going and what the turnout was like. Ben said he had about forty people and a lot of noise. ‘I know, I can hear it,’ said Mick. ‘We’re on our way in a car, will be there in twenty minutes.’ Ben put the phone back in his pocket and told Stude that Mick was on his way. ‘That’s why he was desperate to know how it’s going,’ observed Stude, ‘because he’d already set off and didn’t want a wasted journey.’ The greatly increased noise level was beginning to attract the attention of the prison staff. Several security officers appeared behind the gate and were taking a close interest in the proceedings. One of them was looking carefully at the people in the march and speaking into a walkie-talkie. Mick arrived with a photographer called Jim who immediately set about recording the scene. As Ben had come to expect, the photographer already had a clear idea in his mind of what he wanted the pictures to look like. Jim set up a shot of Esme and her sister Sarah, with their arms linked in a sign of mutual support, placards clasped in their free hands. He asked them to look ‘indignant, but vulnerable’. For another shot, Jim assembled all the young women, put Linda at the front, and asked everyone to huddle together and look tearful. But the picture he was most pleased with was a spontaneous shot of a teenage girl wiping tears from her eyes whilst clutching a picture-placard of Jack under her arm. A large delivery truck came up the compound road and drove slowly past the protesters, who moved out of its way. The flying pickets shouted abuse at the driver, which Ben thought was pointless since the man only contributed to the running of the prison in a very small way. Nevertheless, other protesters started to join in, shouting at the poor driver and banging on the side of the truck as it drove carefully by. After the truck got past the crowd, someone threw an empty aerosol can at it. The truck pulled up in front of the gate and the hum of an electric motor could be heard as it began to roll sideways, opening slowly, while the guards took up strategic positions behind. An officer came out of the sentry hut and went to the driver’s cab to check his credentials. The driver got out of his cab to open the back door of the truck, while the sentry guard, now flanked by two other guards, peered inside. After the check, the driver got back in his cab and drove through to the inner compound. Stude commented on how slowly the gate was closing, and glanced knowingly at one of the pickets who was watching with interest. ‘We could easily dart through those gates,’ said Stude. ‘I thought you’d say that,’ said Ben, nervously. ‘We could continue the demo inside the inner compound. It would create a better spectacle than just walking round out here, we’d command the attention of the governor.’ Ben noticed Stude was using the word spectacle a lot. ‘It’s always about how things look with you, isn’t it?’ said Ben. ‘The bigger the spectacle, the more coverage it gets, the more pressure it puts on the authorities.’ ‘I understand,’ Ben replied, somewhat reluctantly. Stude played on the fear in Ben’s mind, the fear of not having done enough to free his father. Ben knew he would regret it later if he thought he hadn’t pushed hard enough. Stude dropped back a couple of paces to speak with Lee and Loz, he had already decided what he wanted to do and was beginning to organise. He spoke to a flying picket who relayed the message to his comrades. Ben felt he was being manipulated by Stude, who was clearly ready to go ahead, knowing that Ben would feel obliged to follow. Having seen what happened last time Stude organised a protest, Ben was acutely aware of the danger ahead. He was naturally frightened about storming the Prison compound, but in the end Ben justified the risk by convincing himself that raising the stakes would help to free his father. Secretly though, he hoped not everybody would make it through the gate and resolved to tell his mum and sister to stay behind. Turning to Stude, Ben asked, ‘So are we at least going to wait until the television crew get here before we do this?’ ‘Yes, good point. Are you up for it, then?’ Stude knew full well that Ben would feel he had to join in. ‘Well I thought you’d pretty much decided that for me,’ he replied sarcastically, ‘but yeah, I’m in.’ ‘Good. The more of us that get through, the easier it will be. Safety in numbers.’ Ben raised his concerns about the women, saying, ‘I don’t want my mum and the girls to get beaten up. Can they stay behind?’ ‘When we start to run at the gate, anyone who’s up for it will come with us. Let the decision be their own.’ Having overheard the conversation, Lee added, ‘They won’t beat up the women, that would be a PR disaster. These private security types are trained not to do it, not on camera anyway.’ Mick walked over with a telephone to his ear. ‘TV crew,’ he mimed, pointing to the phone. They had known Mick was covering the demo and rang him to ask if it was worth coming along. Mick said the protest was quite lively, with lots of colourful characters, and commented on what a beautiful backdrop the sunset would provide for filming. He did his best to sell it and they took the bait. A television news reporter and a cameraman duly turned up. Unfortunately, the demonstrators were taking a break at the time, having a drink and something to eat from the provisions that had been brought. The reporter interviewed Esme, asking her to look sad and tearful before the camera started recording. Sarah was interviewed because the crew thought her mouthy righteousness ideal for an attention-grabbing report. Mick commented on Sarah’s liveliness and told Ben how lucky they were to have someone like that campaigning with them. When the television reporter had finished doing interviews, he suggested the next thing should be to film the protest in action. Ben roused everyone from their break and organised them into a marching column again, which he led in a circle in front of the gate. The cameraman recorded some shots of the march while the reporter encouraged everyone to make as much noise as possible and wear angry faces. After a short while, the delivery truck reappeared within the inner compound and pulled up to the gate. Five guards took up positions on either side of the vehicle as it waited for the gate to open. The time had come to escalate the protest and Ben felt butterflies in his stomach at the thought of what they were about to do. Stude exchanged serious glances with the flying pickets, who had spread out strategically amongst the other marchers. Along with Ben at the front of the group, Stude adjusted his pace so as to be marching in the direction of the gate just as it began to open. All the other supporters kept up, carried along by the pickets. When the gate was fully open, the truck began to drive out. Ben could feel his heart pounding. The truck veered right to avoid the protesters, leaving a clear path to the gate. Ben and Stude were a stone’s throw away. Stude broke into a run, giving Ben a gentle push as he set off. Lee, Loz and Mike followed close behind. From several points within the marching column, the pickets began to run, which gave the impression that the whole crowd was breaking into a dash and many other people copied. ‘Get inside the gates,’ shouted Stude over his shoulder. The pickets echoed his command. The guards had spread out to cover the width of the opening as the gate slowly began to close. Ben could see fear in their eyes and worried that they might see his. He hardened his resolve, made a conscious effort at a fearless expression and charged the opening. The guards’ pride made them stay put, but they weren’t brave enough to obstruct such a large crowd in any real way. Leading the pack, Stude, Lee and Loz violently jostled three guards aside, the other two dodged out of the way as Mike and Ben charged past. Having made less than a token effort, the guards moved aside, allowing most of the crowd to get in. Once inside the compound, Ben didn’t know what to do. He stopped and quickly took stock of the situation, reckoning roughly two dozen protesters had got through. Ben scanned the crowd and saw Sarah and Martin, but to his relief not his mother and sister. They were trapped outside, pushed up against the the gate with the remainder of the protesters who were all jumping up and down, cheering. The television crew were jostling for a position at the gate, while Mick stood to one side taking notes. All the guards disappeared into the prison building. Only the officer in the hut between the turnstiles was still visible, peering out through his window whilst talking into a headset. Ben knew it was only a matter of time before reinforcements were sent. The flying pickets began to organise everybody into a marching circle, tightly marshalled with pickets at intervals around the circumference. It was very well choreographed, the pickets kept pace and intermittently changed the direction of the march from clockwise to anti-clockwise. The visual effect was striking and the television crew, filming from the other side of the gate, were more than happy to capture it. The cameraman did a shot of the marchers that gradually zoomed out to reveal they were behind bars. ‘Behind bars in solidarity with their loved one,’ the reporter said, as he spoke to the camera with the protesters in shot behind. Soon enough, the response that Ben had been expecting arrived. Sirens were heard and two armoured vans came speeding up the road outside the gate. Ben had thought the response would come from within the RIC, not outside. Linda, Esme and the remaining protesters moved aside as the vans screeched to a halt in front of the gate, positioning themselves so as to block the exit from the inner compound. Slowly, the gate began to open and a team of Enforcers disembarked from their vans. There were twelve of them, all dressed in black commando clothes, helmets and body armour. They carried long batons and sub-machine guns were slung over their shoulders. The sentry at the turnstiles began making eye contact with the team and pointing to the demonstrators in the compound, as if that were necessary. The protesters looked on nervously, their chanting petered out and the marching became distinctly half-hearted, despite the best efforts of the flying pickets. Ben felt physically sick as he looked at the team squaring up to them. Stude and the pickets tried to stare the Enforcers down. One of the pickets was heard to say, ‘they’re only plastic bullets’, as if that were any consolation. Most of the protesters were only amateurs and believed they would be moved on or arrested at worst. They stayed put when really they should have run, always the best course of action for protesters who are not used to fighting. The Enforcers would not be content merely to make arrests. Just as Stude had wanted a spectacle to highlight Jack’s cause, so the Enforcers wanted their own spectacle, one that would highlight their power and serve as a warning to others. By breaking into the Prison compound, the demonstrators had broken many laws and breaking the law was a crime against Enforcers. At least they refrained from using their guns. The protesters inside the compound were violently set upon. No distinction was made between men and women, both were brutally attacked. Once the assault was under way, Prison security guards reappeared - in greater numbers than before - and helped to keep the protesters penned in while the Enforcers went to work. Guards also blocked the other protesters - outside the compound - from coming to their friends’ aid. Those outside could only look on in helpless desperation. Lee and Loz fought ferociously, but baton strikes rained down on them from all sides. Stude took it upon himself to protect Ben, following him as he flailed around, blocking baton blows as best he could. Mike was thrown to the ground and repeatedly kicked until two pickets wrestled his attackers away. The pickets fought hard, despite having no weapons. In the confusion, one managed to fell an Enforcer and kick him in the head. Retaliation was swift, as two other Enforcers pushed the picket to the ground and began beating him. To Ben’s horror, he saw his uncle Martin being violently beaten. Sarah tried to restrain the attacker, but was pushed roughly to the ground. Martin took many blows to his head and became delirious. Watching the scene, Ben was overcome with anger and instantly forgot his fears. He ducked and dodged through the jungle of batons and charged at the Enforcer, ramming him with a shoulder. The attacker fell over, but quickly got up and focussed his attention on Ben, raining baton blows down on him. Ben screamed as he took a blow to his bad shoulder, the Enforcer then focusing callously on that weak spot. The attack didn’t last long. Soon all the protesters were left lying on the ground bleeding and wailing in pain. Ben lay curled up on the concrete, badly beaten and in agony. Friends and family lay around, dazed and terrified. These were not violent agitators, yet they had received the worst of the beating. It was standard practice for the Enforcers to focus on the weaker ones for maximum effect, it increased the power of the spectacle. With his greater experience, Stude had known this would happen and Ben got the feeling that his innocent supporters had been used as cannon fodder. The Enforcers began roughly dragging people out of the compound, while others managed to stand up and limp out voluntarily. As Ben stumbled out, he saw the rest of the demonstrators cowering at a safe distance, still prevented from coming closer by the growls of the prison guards. People cried out in distress as they saw the horrific state of their friends and loved ones. Once all the protesters were outside the compound, the giant metal gate began to close. Looking back inside, Ben saw a large patch of blood staining the ground. Suddenly he began to feel dizzy and light headed, his legs became like jelly and he collapsed to the floor. Lying on his side on the ground, he watched through barely open eyes as the vans departed. Friends and family who had escaped the beating ran over and swarmed around the wounded, nursing them as best they could while crying uncontrollably. After twenty minutes, the sound of ambulance sirens was heard.
