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Newspapers and Magazines written for include: The Observer |
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The following article was published in the New Statesman. The fight for freedom is over, but the hard part is just beginning for the Bridgewater men. "He's very up and down, sometimes very angry, sometimes hyper. He has broken down and cried, especially when he's talked to prisoners still inside. He's had terrible stomach cramps because the food is so rich after a prison diet. He hasn't slept in a bed yet, in fact he's hardly slept at all and he's asked me to remove the light in his room - he slept with a light on in his cell for ten years. He wouldn't travel in a train carriage because it would be too claustrophobic after the cell and he says he gets lost in the house because there are so many rooms." That is how Ann Whelan, the mother of Michael Hickey, described her son three days after his release as one of the wrongfully convicted killers of the newspaper boy Carl Bridgewater. The night of the men's release was, understandably, one of euphoria. Nearly 19 years after their imprisonment the three surviving members of the "Bridgewater Four" - Vincent and Michael Hickey and Jim Robinson - last week celebrated with their families and campaigners at the London Irish Centre in Camden Town. But even as the men began the renewal of relationships ended so abruptly with their arrests in 1978, there were reminders around them that their ordeal was not over. Among the well-wishers was a man who five years previously had celebrated his own release at the same venue: Paddy Hill of the Birmingham Six. Hill has described his life after release as even more traumatic than the years of false imprisonment. He cites the lack of counselling and rehabilitation; the delay and inadequacy of compensation awards; the refusal to re-open the cases (thus fuelling whispering campaigns that the miscarriage-of-justice victim was really guilty) and the fact that those responsible for the false imprisonments are not, in turn, brought to justice. Hill believes the few reforms set in train as a result of a Royal Commission set up after his own case are "just papering over the cracks". The most immediate consideration for the three Bridgewater men is counselling. The innumerable disappointments over the 18 years have led to prolonged periods of depression for all of them and, in the case of Vincent Hickey, a suicide bid. After his 89-day prison rooftop protest in 1983-84, Michael Hickey was so mentally and physically exhausted he spent the next ten years in Ashworth mental hospital. "If there is a hell," said Gerry Conlon of the Guildford Four, soon after his own release, "it's being in prison and knowing you're innocent." Yet while the need for counselling is recognised for the guilty lifer out on release, it is not offered to the innocent former prisoner. Jill Morrell, a leading campaigner for the Bridgewater men, believes their need for counselling is in some ways greater than that of the Beirut hostages. "It's coming to terms with the wasted years that are hardest. Michael, for instance, has spent half his life in prison - he's lost those years and can never get them back," she says. After examining four members of the Birmingham Six for their compensation application, Adrian Grounds, a psychiatrist at the Institute of Criminology in Cambridge, likened their chronic trauma to that of war veterans or prisoners of war and concluded that the men would need many years of regular counselling to help them readjust. They received none. Paddy Hill describes a sense of alienation, swiftly changing moods, of feeling lost and isolated. "I spend half my time staring at the wall, wishing I was back in prison," he says. For Eddie Browning, whose conviction for the murder of Maria Wilkes was quashed in 1994, the effects have been even more disturbing. Eddie's wife Julie campaigned for him during his seven years of imprisonment, while trying to raise two children on benefits. Now, after two-and-a-half years of struggling to keep their marriage intact, they are to divorce. Julie says she was unable to cope with Eddie's mood swings, and believes the lack of an outlet for his suppressed anger has been central to his problems. The Bridgewater men are determined that those they see as responsible for their false imprisonment are brought to justice. But the portents are not promising. In the 15 miscarriage cases in which a police officer has been accused of fabricating evidence at an appeal court, not a single officer has been convicted or even disciplined. In the Guildford Four and Birmingham Six cases, actions against the officers criticised in the appeal court were eventually dismissed on the grounds of prejudicial media coverage. Julie Browning believes the failure of the action against the police in her husband's case was a key factor in his psychological deterioration. "When the police in Eddie's case got off, he put his hand through the door and sat there, crying like a baby for hours." A few months ago, according to Mrs Browning, her husband finally buckled under the strain, hitting her and attacking their furniture with a power saw. Soon after, horrified by his behaviour, he put himself into a psychiatric unit. Even the most ordinary, domestic aspects of life after release will create problems for the Bridgewater men. Unlike the guilty lifer whose release is planned by the probation service to help reacclimatisation and who is given assistance with housing, the benefit system and general life skills, the three men will have to depend wholly on their families. Paul May, who set up the Bridgewater Four campaign in London and led the campaigns for the Birmingham Six and Judith Ward, says the obstacles they face are daunting: "Because they have not kept up National Insurance contributions in prison it is very difficult to get benefits. Hugh Callaghan of the Birmingham Six, for instance, gets a lower pension for this reason. They may not have an address to obtain bank or electricity accounts. And because no provision is made for housing needs, most find themselves homeless after release. Nor will there be help with employment." For Judith Ward, released in 1992 after her conviction for the M62 coach bombing was quashed, finding a job has been the worst problem. She worked in Ireland before her conviction and had no National Insurance number. Now she cannot sign on or obtain employment, so she has "harrassed" the Home Office for five years to rectify the matter, with no success. In high-profile miscarriage cases, compensation is inevitably the subject of widespread media speculation. But the Bridgewater men are likely to face a long wait. The Brownings, Judith Ward and the Birmingham Six all still await their full payments. Paddy Hill says he received [pounds]200,000 in interim payments but is contesting the final [pounds]116,000. If the figures seem high, the need for a mortgageless house or flat accounts for a large chunk. Compensation is calculated largely on loss of earnings, not loss of liberty, which campaigners say would be fairer. Nor do the awards compensate for the suffering of the prisoners' families, which, in the Carl Bridgewater case, have included long-term intimidation, beatings, bullying at school for the children and a general atmosphere of hostility to all the relatives, including the family of Pat Molloy, who died in prison in 1981. Copyright 1997 New Statesman, Ltd., Copyright 2000 Gale Group |
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