Michael's story

Before prison, I worked in the granite business. I was 67 when business took me to Brazil, where I made a mistake which lead me to spend four years in a Brazilian prison.

One day I got chatting to a guy over breakfast at the hotel. We bumped into each other the next night and had a couple of drinks together. He seemed a nice guy. The next day, when I went to the airport to get my flight home, it turned out he was on the same flight as me. He told me that he had a problem – he had excess luggage, but not enough money to pay for it. He asked me if I would take one of his bags for him. It was then I started to get suspicious – I asked him what was in the bags. He said “Curtains”, and told me to take a look. So I opened up a bag – it had lots of smaller bags inside. I opened a couple of these, and sure enough they were curtains. But I didn’t know that they were going to swap the bags before I checked it in. The guy sounded straight, and I trusted him. I got duped, and I did four years for it.

Brazilian prisons are among the worst in the world. It’s not just the prisons, it’s the people as well. Prison for them is a way of life. The gang influence is everywhere. I was fortunate that I’m quite a bright guy. I got put into a cell with 12 people, and I was the only gringo. The cell was tiny: 4 metres by 2.5 metres. Just six stone beds. You sleep on the floor. You’re not given any bedding or sheets. I was lucky that I found an unclaimed sheet and blanket – I used the sheet to wrap up my belongings in as my bag had been taken when I was arrested.

There was vermin everywhere, rats as big as cats. And the food was just rice and beans for every meal. No meat or veg. And never enough. I had to live off the food parcels paid for by Prisoners Abroad, or whatever I could get. If it wasn’t for those parcels I would have died.

I’d never been sick in my life, but I was seriously ill twice during my time in Brazil. The first time was in 2004, I got a cyst, on my bum, from sitting on the toilet apparently. The hygiene there was terrible. It grew very fast overnight, so it was as big as my hand. The smell was the worst thing – like a dead dog or a dead cat. They gave me a kind of baby’s nappy, to stop my clothes from sticking to me. It was really draining me, pulling the life out of me. When I got to the hospital I just flaked out; I was gone for two or three days, I didn’t know where I was. They gave me all kind of drips. The surgeon explained what was wrong with me, and how the cyst had got worse because it was not looked at early on. He said they wanted to do surgery on me, but they had tested me and there was something wrong with my kidneys, so they had to treat me externally. I was four months in the hospital. They gave me lots of different medications for the kidneys and the cyst. I was handcuffed to the bed throughout this.

My second illness was cancer of the bladder. But the good news is it’s in an area where there is slow growth, and it can be cured. They didn’t have the expertise in Brazil – the waiting list was too long. Throughout this, the prison was paying for some of my treatment, but Prisoners Abroad had to pay for the rest. I thought I was going to die. I spoke to the British Consulate, I made a will, I thought this is the end. But then I thought no, I was going to live. My feeling is, if you want to die you die, if you don’t want to die, you’re not going to die. And I’m a survivor.

After four years of my sentence, because of my age and health condition, I was given a full pardon on humanitarian grounds, and deported back to the UK. I don’t know where my family are in England anymore. I’ve got no addresses or details, over the years they’ve all moved around. For the past couple of weeks Prisoners Abroad have been looking after me. Without Prisoners Abroad I would be dead. I’m not saying that for any reason other than that it’s true. From Day One, if I’d been there without Prisoners Abroad I wouldn’t have survived. Nobody would have cared about me. I would have been just a statistic. But I’ve struggled through. I’ve kept myself fit, I’ve kept myself positive. Just to get a letter from you guys, and to read what you’re doing for me.

Prisoners Abroad are paying for my hostel at the moment. I said to my key worker: When I get back home I’m going to send the money back to you. When someone’s done something good for me, I see it as a sign of respect to pay them back, to say thank you. They’ve kept me alive, and helped me get my life back together.

I hope to be able to pick up the pieces of my stone business – I still have the contacts, knowledge and source, I just need to get back on my feet again. And if I can start making money again I can pay back Prisoners Abroad for how they’ve helped me!