The Visit (part 1)

Prison’s not so bad. I’m in one of these new places, so I’ve got a cell to myself, 3 meals a day, a TV and even a little ensuite toilet facility, to be honest I’ve stayed in worse budget hotels. Okay budget hotels don’t lock you in and insist on lights out at 10 but you have to take the rough with the smooth. I’m only here for a year, 6 months if I keep my nose clean, no prison’s not so bad it’s the bloody do-gooders that annoy me.

Two days ago I got called in to see the governor or the deputy governor who whoever she was, who told me that my victim had requested a meeting. I’d pulled a face that had made it pretty damn clear that I had no intention of meeting some bleeding heart liberal who wanted to understand me so he could better understand my crime. But the guvnor suggested that the parole board would look kindly on me agreeing to see this man.  So of course I agreed, I mean I know I said prison is okay, but if you get a chance to get out early then you take it.

So there I sat looking at this man in front of me wondering what he wanted. What did he think, that I am going to apologise, or that somehow we’ll become friends, does he think that somehow he’ll save me become my benefactor in some kind of modern day Henry Higgins?

I stared at him, silently appraising him, waiting for him to utter the first word.

He looked a little shocked, out of his comfort zone. He looked as out of place as I am sure he felt; his suit not being nice enough for a lawyer or expensive enough for a criminal. He took his time before asking the obvious question. I’d prepared my answer and laid it on thick, sure that was what he wanted to hear, a tale of desperation, deprivation and degradation, of no hope, no future. It was bullshit of course, I’d thumped him and stolen his phone and wallet because I could, because he was an easy target if I hadn’t done it someone else would have, I would never have got caught if it wasn’t for that damn cctv camera.

I wonder what he got out of his little visit. I wonder if he got his peace of mind or his closure or whatever he was looking for. Maybe he just wanted a story for his friends or the feeling that his experience was just a way to donate to charity, a redistribution of wealth. Whatever he got, I know that he’s helped me get out of here a few days early, that’s a few days when I can commit more crimes. 

This story was inspired by seeing this headline on the bbc webssite. 
'Getting my Mugger to Explain Why'
I must admit I didn't read the article until after I'd written the story. 
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-24022774

There is a part two to this story here