corridors to the Governor’s office. The anteroom resembled a doctor’s surgery with numerous health and wellbeing posters as well as information on prisoner rights. A secretary asked them if they would prefer coffee or tea and then the Governor emerged from his office.
‘Keith Rose.’ The man held out his hand and Riley introduced himself and Enders.
Rose was younger than Riley expected, maybe late thirties, with bushy uncontrollable blond hair which added to his youthful appearance. He wasn’t at all the stereotype of the older, caring governor Riley had been expecting, nor did he look like one of the evil and vicious characters he had seen portrayed in numerous prison films.
They went into Rose’s office. A formal area with a large desk and a computer monitor on it lay to one side, on the other a sofa and two armchairs clustered round a low table. Rose gestured to the sofa as the secretary came in with cups and a pot of coffee and put them on the table.
‘First time here?’ Rose said as he dismissed the secretary and poured the coffees himself. ‘I’m glad you’ve come on a good day. Too often the weather only serves to confirm people’s stereotypes of the moor and the prison.’
‘I had my preconceptions,’ Riley said, ‘but once inside there is far more space than I would have imagined.’
‘We try as hard as we can. Removal of liberty is the punishment, nothing beyond, despite the growing clamour from the public and some sections of the media. You know, we’ve got some good things going on here, people really trying to make a difference.’
‘Storybook Dads?’ Riley had seen a feature on the news the other week. Prisoners recording stories for their children to listen to at bedtime.
‘Yes, a fantastic initiative which I can’t take any credit for, but I am delighted the prison is associated with the work they do. There’s been some great publicity and the scheme shows prisoners are simply human beings like the rest of us.’
‘Devlyn Corran.’
‘Ah, yes. To business.’ Rose took a sip from his cup of coffee before continuing. ‘I can’t tell you how concerned I am about Devlyn. I mean, how can he go missing on a Sunday morning when there is only open moorland between here and his home?’
‘That’s what we need to discover,’ Riley said. ‘But perhaps we could start with the basics.’
‘Of course. What do you want to know?’
‘Let’s get the facts around Sunday morning down first. Mr Corran had been on a night shift, right?’
‘Yes. He started at nine on Saturday and clocked off at eight the next morning. He cycles to work when the weather is fine and someone saw him unlocking his bike and leaving sometime soon after eight. You know it was his daughter’s fifth birthday party Sunday afternoon? The previous evening he’d joked he needed a quiet shift because he’d only be able to grab a few hours of sleep before the party started.’
‘And was it? A quiet shift, I mean.’
‘Oh yes. Rarely anything other. You shouldn’t believe everything you read or see. Prisons these days are about training and education, not rioting. Especially not here at Dartmoor.’
‘You’re Category C, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Meaning there aren’t any dangerous prisoners here? Ones who might bear a grudge, who might be able to arrange for something nasty to happen to a prison officer?’
‘I don’t think that’s likely.’ Rose paused and then leant forwards, took the coffee pot and poured himself a top-up. ‘But anyway Devlyn has only been here for a year or so. He transferred from somewhere up north, I believe. If you give me a moment I’ll check.’ Rose got up and went over to his desk where he sat down. He clicked the mouse a couple of times and then stared at the monitor screen for a few seconds. ‘Full Sutton, Yorkshire.’
‘Can you tell us anything about the reason for his transfer?’
‘No, his record just says the move was due to personal circumstances. His
‘Keith Rose.’ The man held out his hand and Riley introduced himself and Enders.
Rose was younger than Riley expected, maybe late thirties, with bushy uncontrollable blond hair which added to his youthful appearance. He wasn’t at all the stereotype of the older, caring governor Riley had been expecting, nor did he look like one of the evil and vicious characters he had seen portrayed in numerous prison films.
They went into Rose’s office. A formal area with a large desk and a computer monitor on it lay to one side, on the other a sofa and two armchairs clustered round a low table. Rose gestured to the sofa as the secretary came in with cups and a pot of coffee and put them on the table.
‘First time here?’ Rose said as he dismissed the secretary and poured the coffees himself. ‘I’m glad you’ve come on a good day. Too often the weather only serves to confirm people’s stereotypes of the moor and the prison.’
‘I had my preconceptions,’ Riley said, ‘but once inside there is far more space than I would have imagined.’
‘We try as hard as we can. Removal of liberty is the punishment, nothing beyond, despite the growing clamour from the public and some sections of the media. You know, we’ve got some good things going on here, people really trying to make a difference.’
‘Storybook Dads?’ Riley had seen a feature on the news the other week. Prisoners recording stories for their children to listen to at bedtime.
‘Yes, a fantastic initiative which I can’t take any credit for, but I am delighted the prison is associated with the work they do. There’s been some great publicity and the scheme shows prisoners are simply human beings like the rest of us.’
‘Devlyn Corran.’
‘Ah, yes. To business.’ Rose took a sip from his cup of coffee before continuing. ‘I can’t tell you how concerned I am about Devlyn. I mean, how can he go missing on a Sunday morning when there is only open moorland between here and his home?’
‘That’s what we need to discover,’ Riley said. ‘But perhaps we could start with the basics.’
‘Of course. What do you want to know?’
‘Let’s get the facts around Sunday morning down first. Mr Corran had been on a night shift, right?’
‘Yes. He started at nine on Saturday and clocked off at eight the next morning. He cycles to work when the weather is fine and someone saw him unlocking his bike and leaving sometime soon after eight. You know it was his daughter’s fifth birthday party Sunday afternoon? The previous evening he’d joked he needed a quiet shift because he’d only be able to grab a few hours of sleep before the party started.’
‘And was it? A quiet shift, I mean.’
‘Oh yes. Rarely anything other. You shouldn’t believe everything you read or see. Prisons these days are about training and education, not rioting. Especially not here at Dartmoor.’
‘You’re Category C, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Meaning there aren’t any dangerous prisoners here? Ones who might bear a grudge, who might be able to arrange for something nasty to happen to a prison officer?’
‘I don’t think that’s likely.’ Rose paused and then leant forwards, took the coffee pot and poured himself a top-up. ‘But anyway Devlyn has only been here for a year or so. He transferred from somewhere up north, I believe. If you give me a moment I’ll check.’ Rose got up and went over to his desk where he sat down. He clicked the mouse a couple of times and then stared at the monitor screen for a few seconds. ‘Full Sutton, Yorkshire.’
‘Can you tell us anything about the reason for his transfer?’
‘No, his record just says the move was due to personal circumstances. His
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