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Earlier this year a former prison officer was jailed after taking mobile phones, chargers and sim cards into HMP Forest Bank in Salford. In , a guard was arrested on suspicion of trying to smuggle drugs into the crisis-hit HMP Birmingham, the G4S-run institution which was seized back into state control last month. A damning inspection had found that prisoners used drink, drugs and violence with impunity. A Prison Service spokesperson said the MoJ was considering the creation of a prison-specific offence for corruption, adding: Topics Prisons and probation The Observer.
UK criminal justice G4S Drugs news. Prisons inspector takes emergency action over HMP Bedford.
I found that, even if I was totally naked, the baggie was nearly impossible to see. Because lassoing narcotics to my dick seemed like an infinitely better plan than stowing them in my poop chamber, I changed tactics immediately, congratulating myself for my genius. The mission was simple -- I'd show up to do my allotted weekend of hard time, with my medication nestled safely in the folds of my balls and penis. All I had to do was waltz in there, get patted down, and get to my bunk without having a nervous breakdown and giving myself away.
Hundreds of prison officers have been sacked for smuggling drugs, weapons and mobile phones into jails, the Observer has learned. Every day, drugs and other contraband makes its way into jails around the world. ways to smuggle in drugs, cell phones, and weapons past the prison guards.
And yes, it was worth risking years in the slammer rather than relive the bone-shrieking hell of the previous weekend. Consider that for a moment -- my pain level was so extreme that I was ready to spend half a decade in prison just to avoid going without medication for two days. That Friday morning started off totally normal: I made breakfast, got dressed, and tied a little noose around my penis. By the time I arrived at the county jail, I was calm and collected.
The felonious dong-garrote I had fashioned for myself didn't even seem to be there.
When you check into jail, the first thing they do is collect all your personal belongings, pat you down, and walk you to a booking area, which is a room where you sit and wait until it fills with enough people to actually take you into the cell blocks. This is also where you get the serious pat-down, where you strip down and they check every nook and cranny other than your actual butthole and that place between your dick and balls.
It's nerve-wracking, standing naked in front of a police officer with a serious felony hiding just behind your penis, but amazingly, I was all clear. I was seated on a bench across from three other men.
The first guy was about my age and looked like the most normal person in the world we will call him Normal Guy. Then there was a chubby, bearded black man who used every opportunity to remind us that we were in jail because of God's plan we will call him Black Jesus.
Then there was Hobgoblin, a crazy-eyed medicine ball of a man loudly in jail for a DUI at approximately 1 p. Marvel Animation How he fit that up his ass, I'll never know. The four of us sat there and chatted as we waited to be taken to our cells, sharing stories about what we were in for and eating our government-issued sack lunches like we were on the world's shittiest field trip. A pretty smooth operation, so far -- clearly I am one of history's great criminal masterminds. No need to read any further. The conversation stopped when a few guards entered the room with a man that looked as though he were made entirely of biceps.
He stared us all down individually, like he was determining which one of us would be the easiest to subdue and eat, and then sat by himself, occasionally talking back to officers and loudly proclaiming how much of a shithole the booking area was. They started taking us in for medical evaluations, which basically means they took my temperature and asked if I had any diseases you would think that someone might notice my hideously broken arm and suggest pain meds at this point, but you would be wrong.
When I got back to the booking area, I realized I had to pee. This was out of the question, because going to the restroom meant an officer had to come watch me pee, and I couldn't risk him seeing the little white string wrapped around the base of my underpants cannon.
I was going to have to wait until the rest of my fellow inmates finished their evaluations and pee in the cell block, where I could safely remove my baggie of drugs undetected. After about an hour of holding in a furious stream of urine, one of the officers announced that we would have to be placed in a confinement room while they lead a group of women through the booking area.
By this time, my urge to pee was all I could think about, and I could feel my anxiety starting to creep up on me, which is bad when you're smuggling a crotch full of four years in prison. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I stood up to be walked to the confinement room and the string around my member tightened. My dick had quite literally hanged itself. I looked out of the tiny window in the door and saw two officers corralling a group of six middle-aged Asian women shouting loudly at each other, and when I turned back, Crazy Hercules had pinned Normal Guy against a wall with one hand and snatched away his lunch sack with the other.
He threw Normal Guy back down into his seat, hand still on his shoulder, and smashed the sack lunch against the wall. Crazy Hercules then promised to kill every one of us, and I got the distinct feeling he was a man of his word. I was literally frozen, stuck in a tiny room about to pee my pants with a tiny string slowly strangling my dick to death, watching a man about to get murdered by a psychotic mutant.
Thanks for everything, mom. You did your best.
After what seemed like an eternity, an officer heard the commotion, walked slowly to the door, and casually signaled for another officer to let us out. Youngs accomplice, Kayci Jo Coombs, smuggled another 45 Xanax pills into the jail through alternate methods. Michael Jones, an inmate who was out of jail on a court-ordered furlough, was charged with murder after reportedly bringing a pair of underwear soaked in methadone back into the jail and handing out pieces of it to his cellmates.
Sarah Laurito sent her lover letters — letters that just so happened to contain Suboxone-laced stamps — which were worth far more than the normal postage fees. The boyfriend reportedly instructed her via coded phone conversations about how to send the drugs, but she confessed when confronted by jail officials.
For those seeking addiction treatment for themselves or a loved one, the DrugAbuse. Our helpline is offered at no cost to you and with no obligation to enter into treatment. Data accurate as of