fiction (based on actual events, but names and stuff changed to protect the innocent ) Enjoy.
Ryan had gone through quite a bit of strife this year. Lost the first job he actually enjoyed through lack of business, his girlfriend of four years left him again, He loved her. His cron's disease and asthma had both flared up and he was unable to work fulltime. He became depressed.
He continued to numb himself with alchohol throughout the year. He knew it was'nt any kind of solution, but it felt good compared to the reality of his situation. No job, No money, No girlfriends shoulder to lean on. Health problems by the bucketload.
To add to his problems, the constant drinking had landed him in court on a few occaisions and even got him a bench warrant, which got him dragged from his drunken slumber one morning at 7am, hauled into the "Bridewell Hotel" A large dublin garda station and court.
He was flung into an underground cell filled with the usual impetuous and likeable charactors, along with several of the unsavoury types.
The belly of the beast.
On his entrance to the cell, he was told not to lean on the wall due to a large blood stain from a heroin addict who had been severely beaten up by the other prisoners.
The cell went quiet, as he told his story. Some prisoners lit up cigarrettes, Which incidentally was strictly forbidden in government buildings, but the Gardai posted to guard the cell allowed this small mercy so long as they didnt see it.
It was quite simple, He had gotten drunk one night and was picked up by the local gardai, Being drunk he didnt care for their attitudes, and they didnt care for his, promptly arresting him and charging him with being Drunk in a public place, Drunk and disorderly, Breach of the peace. Which was fairly harsh, He recalled thinking the gard mustnt have "scored" with his missus last night to be such a bastard.
a quiet Chorus of "fucken wanker" or "bleedin prick", "shitebags" went up from the listeners. They began to exchange stories.
Most of the prisoners were there on appeal, or still on trial but in prison for the duration of the trial, He thought to himself, what the fuck happened to innocent until proven guilty.
there were two homeless young guys who had stolen a car to sleep in and been caught by the owner, The owner threw a cavity block through his own windscreen and a barrage of glass had hit the two occupants.
Although that story will never reach the judge.
The posted gardai outside the large dungeon like cell called randomly the names of prisoners to go up the stairs to the courtroom and have their cases heard and judged.
Some of the chaps had been called back numerous times in the course of around two hours.
Then the gardai called him.
The cell went chillingly quiet.
Two people stood up and walked to the garda, Both of them named the same, David Ryan. The other Dave went first, Ryan was too nervous and hungover, and needed time to reorganise himself.
The shock of hearing his name called out had woken him with a galloping heartbeat and sweat.
Ryan took a half finished cigarette from the homeless bloody faced prisoner and sighed a deep breath before inhaling the smoke and saying thanks while exhaling.
The prisoners continued to make light of their situation, Ryan understood why.
escape from this reality was possible through the kind of humour and impetuousness these people showed regardless of what they had done or "didnt" do to get landed in a filthy dungeon of a cell in the heart of the city of Dublin.
The really funny thing was that the posted gardai outside the cell knew that too.
Ryan heard a womans voice saying something illegible to one of the gards, the gard responded with something equally illegible. All the men in Ryans cell went quiet to try and hear what was happening.
the cell door opened and the first David Ryan was shown back in.
Almost immediately he was asked by the other prisoners who the woman was, he laughed and said she was the ugliest prostitute he ever seen. Easily in earshot of the woman, the entire cell erupted into laughter. A prisoner shouted over the mirth and jeers "so thats why you're fucken here then is it?". The laughs grew until a tall thin gard opened the cell door and told us all to "keep it down". Unusually to Ryan, the entire cell kept quiet. Although it was unusual to him, he was glad everything became solemn and returned to what was supposed to be normal behaviour.
The tall thin garda called Ryans name again, This time it was his turn, not his namesake.
He was led out the cell door in the chilling silence of his cellmates, He glanced back, already missing the warmth of the people in the cold cell. He was led up the sterile and cold stone steps into the large roofed pristine hall of the court, where people dressed in black watched him enter. The jaded looking judge raised her head from the documents she was reading. The arresting gardai introduced Ryan the criminal to the funeral like courtroom.
Ryan stood nervously with his hands clasped to each other behind his back, and braced himself for the judgement.
An Chúirt Dúiche/ The District Court
Dublin metropolitan District court
Case No. 2004 15091 ******
Suim/ Amount EUR 600.00
Admhail/Receipt
Priomh-Cheireach
Data/Date: ********
