A day in the life of Wheatfield Prison
ALAN knows a thing or two about laundries. Temperatures, chemicals, cross-contamination — all the challenges of operating a laundry are on his mind.
That, and the fact that he is serving a life sentence, and only a little over two years have passed.
Before Alan was convicted of murder he didn’t know anything about washing clothes.
“I never washed anything in my life. Before, I didn’t know how to switch on a washing machine.”
Now, Alan is able to run a large industrial laundry. He has learned the skills in Wheatfield Prison, where he is serving his sentence.
“I’ve done a lot on health and safety, learning about different cross-examination — if you have kitchen whites you keep them separate for hygiene, ” he says.
“There are people in here with different diseases. If they spill blood, everything has to be sterilised, with temperature and chemicals — they are the two disinfectants.”
Chatting in the large laundry room, resonating with the churning and rattle of large washers and dryers, Alan said he was a mechanic before he ended up in Wheatfield.
“My hands are clean for the first time, there’s no mechanic work here.”
But Alan has to live with the fact that his hands are not clean. He got the mandatory life sentence after being found guilty of murder.
“I made a mistake,” he said quietly. “Ten seconds you make that mistake, something happens, you do what you do, you pay the rest of your life for it.”
Alan has completed two and a half years. “I have another 10 at least. I have a long way to go yet and I just have to settle down to do it.”
He said Wheatfield offers workshops and education for any prisoner who wants to take up the offer.
“If you want to do it, it’s there. You have to have the push in you to want to do these things. I could go out now and run any laundry.”
Asked why society should put so much effort and resources into trying to rehabilitate prisoners, he said: “It’s important. We are all human beings. Everyone should be given a second chance.”
Donnacha Walsh is the assistant governor at Wheatfield, charged with responsibility over work and training. He’s proud, not only of the work the laundry do, but also the high standard of it.
“This laundry caters for us and Cloverhill (adjoining remand prison). Some 15,000 articles come through here on a weekly basis.
“We have the Q mark, and we are the only site in the Republic accredited as a training centre for the Guild of Cleaners and Launderers in the UK.”
He said around 20 prisoners work in the laundry on any given day, and that in the last four years some 24 inmates have gone on to work in industrial laundries on the outside.
Damien, along with another prisoner, is guiding a sheet into a large presser. He’s serving a 12 month sentence for drugs. “I’m here six months. It’s grand, passes the time. I come down at 8.30am till 5pm, ” he says.
“It’s handy enough. You can do all the certs and courses. It’s mainly for the long-timers, the lifers and people doing four, six years.”
He said he’s done a number of courses and was now doing a soccer scholarship.
“The FAI come in every week, you can get coaching badges. I’m doing trials for the street league for the homeless. I have trials in August.”
Wheatfield Prison was hailed as a model prison on its opening in 1989. It was purpose-built to provide work, training and education for the majority of the 320 inmates it was designed to take, all housed in single cells.
That day has ended for many. With a prison population at 372 on the day of our visit and two of the 20 units closed, doubling up is now common.
Matthew is one of the lucky ones. He has his own cell, which he allowed us to see.
He got six years for drug trafficking. He’s done most of the sentence and is due out soon.
Prison governor Sean Lennon said his was a standard cell, at little under 10 square metres, which was “generous for one, adequate for two”.
Like all the cells it had three narrow slits for light, one of which could be opened slightly for air. It has a toilet and wash-hand basin and is furnished with a television.
Governor Lennon said there are two detectors in case of a fire, and that the cell door could be removed outwards from the frame in cases where the door was barricaded.
He pointed to the cell call system, which enables an inmate to call the control room for whatever reason.
He said there were two prisoners who were designated “listeners”, a scheme to help inmates who feel depressed.
Matthew, a black Englishman, said he has never experienced racism in his time in Wheatfield. “I hang out with people in this unit. It’s ok. You’re very confined, but in a good way.”
He’s in the drug-free landing.
He uses the school and the gym and is doing an Open University course in computing.
“There are things to do here, but, rehabilitation wise, it’s hard to say. It keeps you occupied, but you are not really rehabilitated. You do your time, but it doesn’t teach you what you did, or what you did wrong.”
He said in England people were categorised according to their crime and behaviour in prison. “Everyone is thrown together in here, people with minor crimes are locked in with people doing murder. In prison, you get all sorts of habits, that’s why most people are re-offending.”
The prison holds a high number of sex offenders and lifers, those serving the mandatory life sentence for murder.
Giving a tour of the prison, Mr Walsh is constantly unlocking and locking gates, which are either cordoning off corridors or leading to stairways. It’s second nature to him and he doesn’t even notice the routine.
Along with the laundry, the kitchen is another source of pride for him.
“It’s one of our showpieces,” he said. “It works to world class standards on a daily basis. It has won the hygiene mark and the supreme hygiene mark. We pride ourselves on food safety and the quality of food to offenders.”
The kitchen definitely looks impressive, with large cooking areas, all stainless steel.
Here, the chefs prepare, cook and serve 1,500 every day, seven days a week. The menu is changed every day and there is a 28-day cycle before the same dish is served again. And there’s a separate cycle for vegetarians.
Mr Walsh said about 20 prisoners work in the kitchen. “They are all doing certified training, from FETAC elementary cooking programme. Three guys recently got a diploma — qualified as chefs.”
He said around 120 to 140 prisoners pass through the kitchen on a yearly basis.
One of them is Pat, who is serving a life sentence, but declines to say what for. He has served six years so far.
“I started the cooking two years ago. You learn how to cook, make apple tarts, scones. It’s a full day. I’m up here at 7am, finish 5.30pm, seven days a week.”
He said he’s starting a chef course in a couple of weeks. “Hopefully, I’ll keep up doing it. I hope to be a qualified chef and when I leave work in a restaurant.”
He said the prison offered inmates plenty to do: “There is enough to do, there’s welding, joinery workshops, laundry and computers.”
There is a separate kitchen off the main area, which is for training. Mr Walsh said it took around 18 months to do a chef course, and that an assessor from City & Guilds comes over from Britain for the day. There’s a practical assessment and a written examination.
If a prisoner passes there is no mention of the prison anywhere on the certificate, thereby helping the prisoner when looking for work.
The traditional trades, in construction, joinery and metal work, are also very popular in the prison. They boast impressive equipment and machines, as well as plenty of work space, both indoors and outdoors.
The construction workshops are accredited to City & Guilds. Inside the large workshop, with has a high ceiling, the prisoners learn brick laying, block laying, tiling and produce concrete. Outdoors, the inmates make various brick features, including for barbecue, a windmill and a fountain feature.
Mr Walsh said the products are sold to prisoner families and staff, covering the cost of the material, and that a lot of work was done for charities and hospices.
In the joinery workshop, Liam, another lifer, is working on a large outdoor bench with another inmate.
“We’re making a garden bench, six-sided,” he said. “We do all types of furniture, tables and chairs, lamps, bowls, you name it.”
Liam had a joinery business on the outside before he committed murder. “I’m doing a life sentence. I’m in 11 years — should be out in 14, with good behaviour.”
The busy metal workshop next door offers 21 different certificates to prisoners, from different accreditation bodies including FETAC, the statutory awarding body for further education and training, and City & Guilds, the British qualifications body.
Jonathan Nicholson, the industrial training supervisor, said there are three areas of expertise on offer: welding; fabrication and machine tooling.
“Everything here is equivalent to Dublin Institute of Technology (standards). Any courses are all part of the national framework of qualifications.”
He said they had just started piloting City & Guilds Level 3. “This is not done anywhere else. I have five going through it and 20 through Level 1. After Level 3, they all go on to do national qualifications, which are equivalent to the senior trades. There’s no reason why they can’t get jobs with certification when they leave here.”
Steve could be one of them. He has done four years of a nine-year term, but declined to say what for.
“I never did anything like this on the outside, I hadn’t a clue. I’ve learned about all types of metal, rods and machines.”
He said he was a forklift driver before he was sentenced and said he wants to drive again on his release.
“This is something to fall back on, it’s an extra qualification. I’m also doing my Junior and Leaving Cert here.”
He said Wheatfield was, generally speaking, fine. “I’m on a drug free landing. It’s quiet, simple, clean. When I came in first I had been in Cloverhill. It dragged in there. There’s three in a cell, badly overcrowded. It’s a kip.”
Mr Walsh said that 46 released prisoners had obtained jobs through the Linkage programme, a scheme run by businesses.
EDUCATION is given equal importance in Wheatfield and boasts a large wing, with a large number of rooms on either side of a wide corridor.
The walls on the corridor are covered with paintings and drawings from inmates, many of whom show obvious talent.
Brenda Fitzpatrick is the head teacher and, with assistant head teacher Ann Tomany, runs the unit.
“Wheatfield has the highest allocation of teachers of any other prison, and we have the highest attendance rate,” said Ms Fitzpatrick.
She said they had 28 teachers, 10 of them full-time, allowing six inmates to a teacher, as well as regular one-on-one sessions.
They have 342 inmates interviewed and enrolled in courses for this year, with about 60 students attending every day.
In addition, around 30 inmates attend the art room and the woodcraft class downstairs.
The fundamental aims are more personal development than narrowly educational, according to Ms Fitzpatrick.
“The first objective is to help them cope with their sentences, then with self-development and self-esteem, and then prepare them for life after release, and finally instil in them an appetite for life-long learning.”
She said the key areas were basic education, literacy and numeracy and the creative arts, such as painting, drawing, music and drama. There was also a major emphasis on holistic education, including stress management, relaxation, Tai Chi and meditation, and health education.
“The emphasis is on the personal development of students, to try and instil in them self-reflection and increase esteem.”
She said the classes in stress management, aromatherapy, Tai Chi and meditation were extremely popular. “We could have a team of teachers here and it would be full every day. It’s a great idea. Other prisons are starting to do it.”
She said the majority of students would have left prior to their Junior Cert. She said demand for Junior and Leaving Cert had dipped in recent years, in large part because they were “less relevant” to the students.
Having said that, 22 people took the Junior Cert last year and four did the Leaving Cert.
She said the modular and open-ended nature of the FETAC qualification was more suited to prison life, and that 116 students were registered this year. In addition, 19 people were taking Open University courses.
“It’s not about bums on seats,” says Ms Tomany. “If one individual you work with does very well, that’s very important.”
Ms Fitzpatrick said it was hard to say if the inmates were rehabilitated.
“It’s hard to measure personal development and inner change. We do see change over a period of time, we see a change in behaviour and attitude and respect for education.
“Our school is full every single morning, afternoon and evening. It is changing them for the better.”
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