What's it like to be locked in a cell? It's different for everyone I suppose. If you are prone to panic attacks, or are claustrophobic, then I imagine that it is terrifying. Luckily for me, I have the ability to retreat into my own headspace at times of trauma, and it didn't really bother me. I knew that I would be in the cell for an indeterminate number of hours, but that: 1) it was unlikely to exceed 24 hours; 2) I wouldn't starve; and 3) It was very unlikely that I would be seriously mistreated by the Police. I was also lucky to be a fairly ordinary looking middle-aged white bloke. Had I been a member of a demographic that had experience of discrimination or harassment by the Police then I am sure that my stoic attitude may have been different, and that I may have had good reason for being more nervous.
The first thing that happens in the custody suite is a long wait to be booked in, particularly if a lot of you arrive at once. It was pleasing to see that vulnerable people (ie any under 18's or disabled people) were given priority. This gave us arrestee rebels the opportunity to educate our captors about the climate emergency. Some of them knew a little of the seriousness of the situation, but some knew nothing, and were shocked by the likely consequences of climate breakdown. When we talked of huge areas of the earth that would no longer be capable of supporting food production and the consequential mass starvation, migration, and conflict that would inevitably follow, we saw a few eyes opening. If we made only one or two Police Officers think seriously about the path we are on, then or work was done. These officers will then tell their family and friends, and more connections will have been made. Our entire arrest process, and the following legal process is all a part of the original action.
Eventually, your details are taken. You don't actually have to say anything to the Police at all, but I was happy to provide my name, address, and other personal details. Failure to do this is only likely to delay your release, and you can't remain unknown to the Police for very long. Then you have your personal possessions removed, logged and bagged; you are photographed, have your fingerprints digitally taken, and then you are taken to the custody cell. Throughout the entire process, the Police were polite and professional; although how much of this was due to the fact that there were so many of us watching I cannot say. I do know that one officer told me that they had never before experienced such polite, friendly and compliant arrestees.
Once the cell door clangs shut you are on your own. Literally. The cell is small, about 6 and a half feet square; with a frosted glass barred window so you can't see out; fluorescent lights permanently on; a low concrete 'bed/bench' topped with a thin plastic 'mattress', and a small stainless steel toilet in the corner. No toilet seat, or handbasin to wash your hands though (ewww!). Everything was clean. There were Police anti-drug and knife messages stuck to the ceiling. I had a couple of 'XR' logo stickers on my t-shirt, and I am tall enough to reach the ceiling, so I added them to the display to cheer up future rebels whom I was sure would follow me into the cell.
It is at this point that the XR advice to have a good book with you (a lightweight paperback is best) becomes apparent. There is literally nothing to do. The hours drag. My advice would be to sleep (if you can); meditate; read; or write something. The police are obliged to provide you with pencil and paper if you request it. I chose to read, and luckily the custody suite had a small selection of books to choose from before they lock you up. I got through 'stories we could tell' by Tony Parsons. The hours drag. There is a one way 'intercom' with the custody officer. You can use it to make requests. You are, of course entitled to a phone call. This can be to a lawyer or a family member, and I chose to save mine to tell my Wife when I had been released so that we could arrange to meet up. She had been with me when I was arrested, so she knew where I was anyway, and I was pretty sure that she wouldn't allow herself to be arrested, as her employment was more sensitive than mine (and she was the main salary earner in our family!). I only used the intercom once - to request washing my hands after using the toilet for a poo. They were pretty busy (obviously!) and it took an hour before he could come and let me out for long enough to wash my hands, and this was probably the most unpleasant bit of the whole experience. I had requested a cup of water when I was locked up, so I had a drink, and they offered me tea or coffee as well (from a vending machine). Based on experience of vending machine coffee and tea I stuck to tap water. I am afraid that I am a middle class coffee and tea snob. I grind my own beans and use loose leaf tea in a pot. Simple pleasures... Drinks arrive in plastic cups. I respectfully suggested compostable paper cups, and just got an exasperated look... I also got fed, and there was a vegan option (mixed bean chilli). Imagine a budget airline meal in a cardboard box and a cardboard folding spoon, and you get the picture. Nourishment, but no pleasure. The hours drag. Eventually (I am unsure how long, as my watch has been taken), I am 'invited' for an interview with a Police liason officer. The XR legal advice is that you should answer every question (apart from the simple 'name and address' ones) with 'no comment'. You don't have to tell the Police anything at all. However, I had undertaken the action with the full intention of 'owning' my actions. I was unconcerned about arrest, and regarded mass arrest as essential to the success of what we were doing. Without that, our impact would be lessened. I used the interview to make a statement about WHY we did what we did, including the justification of necessity - the imperative of action. I knew that what I said would be used as evidence in court (if I was ever charged), and I wanted this evidence to be a message to the court. Everyone has to make their own decisions whether to 'no comment' the interview, and it may be that 'no comment-ing' will lessen the chances of being charged by the CPS. However, the subsequent call by the Home Secretary for EVERY arrestee to be charged may render this argument irrelevant for future actions. But I didn't know that at the time. The hours drag.
Eventually (of course), I get a message that I am to be released. I get my phone call to tell my Wife and arrange where to meet (and catch up on news of the days' rebellion), have my belongings returned. I don't have my phone, having given it to my Wife before my arrest (it may have been retained as evidence). I am turned out into the late evening into an unknown part of London. I have no idea where I am. Fortunately, two XR activists are in the lobby of the custody suite at Walworth (which turns out to be quite close to Elephant and Castle) to offer emotional support, biscuits, and fruit. God bless 'em! I find out which direction I need to walk to get to Elephant and Castle tube station, and set off to meet my Wife and fellow Bedford XR rebels for the train journey home. I have been in custody for 9 and a half hours. It felt like longer, but I am lucky. Many rebels found themselves in custody for longer, and overnight. I have work early the next morning, but I will make it. At this point I have no idea if I will be charged. We were given the impression at our XR 'non-violent direct action' training that charges would be very unlikely after arrest for a minor public order offence. Subsequent events would prove this advice to be very wrong.
