Jeffrey Archer, the bestselling author and former politician who died aged 86, was jailed for perjury in 2001 after being found guilty of lying and cheating in his 1987 libel case against a newspaper. The result was A Prison Diary, a three-part account of his time incarcerated in the early 2000s, written in the form of a daily journal.
Archer was sentenced to four years in July 2001 after being convicted of perjury and perverting the course of justice during his 1987 libel trial against the Daily Star. He resigned as deputy chairman of the Conservative Party in 1986 after the newspaper accused him of paying sex worker Monica Coghlan. In 1987 he sued the Star and was awarded £500,000 in damages. But in 1999, he was accused of lying and creating false diaries for the libel trial to give himself a false alibi for the night in question.
From the Old Bailey to Belmarsh
He denied the charges but was found guilty at trial and served time at London's notorious Belmarsh, HMP Wayland in Norfolk and the open North Sea Camp prison before being released in 2003. His diary begins almost immediately after the sentence was handed down, as the then 61-year-old was taken from the Old Bailey and processed by the prison system.
Writing in volume one of his book, titled Hell, he said: "'You are sentenced to four years'. Mr Justice Potts stares down from the bench, unable to hide his delight. He orders me to be taken down."
"A Securicor man who was sitting beside me while the verdict was read out points towards a door on my left which has not been opened during the seven-week trial. I turn and glance at my wife Mary seated at the back of the court, head bowed, ashen-faced, a son on either side to comfort her."
"I'm led downstairs to be met by a court official, and thus I begin an endless process of form-filling. Name? Archer. Age? 61. Weight? 178lbs, I tell him."
Archer describes being led through bleak corridors before being placed in a tiny cell measuring around ten feet by five. There was a wooden bench but little else to occupy him, leaving him with no clock, no sense of time and only graffiti on the walls for company. His legal team told him that although he had been given four years, he could expect to serve around two. They also warned him that he would initially be sent to Belmarsh, before potentially being moved to a Category D open prison.
Routine Humiliation and Suicide Watch
There was an immediate personal tragedy to contend with. Archer's mother had died on the day the jury retired to consider its verdict, and his lawyers were seeking compassionate leave so that he could attend her funeral. After leaving the court, he was stripped of his possessions and placed in a prison van. He described sitting inside a small enclosed compartment, known by prisoners as a "sweatbox", while photographers waited outside hoping to capture an image as he was whisked through London.
Arriving at Belmarsh, surrounded by high walls, electronic gates and razor wire, his first hours involved the kind of routine humiliation that would become familiar during his sentence: repeated paperwork, strip searches and questions about his health, lifestyle and criminal history. Forced to remove his designer clothes - a Yves Saint Lauren shirt, an Aquascutum jacket and his House of Commons cufflinks - he told how "the first officer then asks me to raise my arms above my head and turn a complete circle, while a video camera attached to the wall whirrs away in the background."
Archer was sent to the medical wing for his first night. "As I walk down the long corridor my heart sinks. Every person I come across seems to be in an advanced state of depression or suffering from some sort of mental illness," he said. He was greeted by a stark cell with a hard mattress, steel furniture, an open lavatory and barred, dirty windows. It was also the first night of a strict suicide watch, with officers checking on him every hour.
"When the door slams behind me I begin to understand why one might contemplate suicide.," he wrote. "I finally turn off the fluorescent light that shines above the bed, place my head on the rock-hard pillow and despite the agonising cries of the patients from the cells on either side of me, I eventually fall asleep. An hour later I'm woken again when the fluorescent light is switched back on, the letter box reopens and two different eyes peer in at me – a procedure that is repeated every hour, on the hour – to make sure I haven't tried to take my own life. The suicide watch."
Transfer to Wayland and Filthy Conditions
After 21 days at Belmarsh, Archer was transferred to HMP Wayland in Norfolk. The journey itself became another uncomfortable chapter. He was transported in a tiny compartment measuring roughly four feet by three feet, with a plastic seat, and said he became nauseous and covered in sweat within minutes.
Wayland was a Category C prison and, to Archer, immediately felt different from the high-security atmosphere of Belmarsh. But his introduction to the prison was hardly welcoming. He was strip-searched again, had several belongings confiscated and was issued with prison clothing. He was then told he would initially have to share a cell with another inmate.
When Archer finally saw the cell, he was horrified by its condition. "My heart sinks when he unlocks the door. The cell is filthy and would have been the subject of a court order by the RSPCA if any animal had been discovered locked inside. The window and window sill are caked in thick dirt - not dust, months of accumulated dirt - the lavatory and the wash basin are covered not with dirt, but s***. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible."
His new cellmate, Chris, was serving a five-year sentence for grievous bodily harm after stabbing someone with a Stanley knife. In the exercise yard he met inmates serving sentences for everything from murder and burglary to tax offences and smuggling. Some approached him offering drugs, tobacco and phonecards, while others were fascinated simply by having the famous new prisoner in their midst. He became increasingly frustrated by the attention, describing prisoners staring and pointing at him as though he were an exhibit.
"The next humiliation I have to endure is prisoners queuing up silently outside my cell door to get a look at me," he wrote in volume two, titled Purgatory. "No 'Hi, Jeff, how are you?' Just staring and pointing, as if I'm some kind of an animal at the zoo. I sit in my cage, relieved when at eight o'clock an officer slams the doors closed."
"I lie in bed on my thin mattress, my head resting on a rock-hard pillow, and think about [wife] Mary and the boys, aware that they too must be enduring their own private hell. I feel as low as I did during my first night at Belmarsh. I have no idea what time I finally fall asleep. I thought I had escaped from hell. So much for purgatory."
He also developed strong opinions about the prison system itself, particularly what he saw as the influence older or more experienced criminals could have on younger offenders. Yet Wayland was not entirely bleak. Archer was eventually given work and began adapting to the routines of prison life. He was also able to exercise and spend more time outside his cell than he had at Belmarsh.
Open Prison Life and Release
Then, after around ten weeks at Wayland, came another major change. In October 2001, Archer was transferred to North Sea Camp, an open prison in Lincolnshire. Instead of high walls and razor wire, there were open grounds and regular roll-calls. Prisoners had keys to their rooms and there were no bars on the windows. Archer himself compared the place favourably to a holiday camp.
"The signpost announces North Sea Camp, one mile. As we approach the entrance to the prison, the first thing that strikes me is that there are no electric gates, no high walls and no razor wire."
"I am released from my sweat box and walk into reception, where I am greeted by an officer. Mr Daff has a jolly smile and a military air. He promises that after Wayland, this will be more like Butlins. 'In fact,' he adds, 'there's a Butlins just up the road in Skegness. The only difference is, they've got a wall around them.'"
He was given his own room, although he initially had a roommate, and began working in the sentence management unit where he made drinks for prison staff, prepared files for newly arrived prisoners and helped process paperwork for visits, leave and other privileges. He wrote for several hours each day, watched television with other prisoners and developed relationships with both inmates and officers. The diary records the strange mixture of ordinary domesticity and incarceration: breakfast, work, exercise, prison gossip and visits from his family, all taking place against the backdrop of a sentence that was still ticking away.
His new job also brought privileges that were unavailable to prisoners in the more restrictive establishments, including being able to eat before the wider prison population. Yet Archer was still desperate to move on. His diary shows him closely following the progress of his appeal and worrying about what the future would hold. He later moved to Hollesley Bay open prison in October 2002 and was released in July 2003.
