Saturday, July 25, 2009

I can’t believe I fly home tomorrow! I’ve been on holiday in Guyana staying with family friends for 10 days and it’s been fantastic.

My first visit to South America has been incredible. I got to see one of the world’s highest waterfalls and visit the rainforests.

I’ve taken loads of photos and can’t wait to show everyone back home.

July 26

Get to security at the airport and officials ask to look in my case. They bring in sniffer dogs – who don’t seem that interested.

More than anything I am embarrassed as they go through my dirty clothes. But everything is fine and they let me through. Then 20 minutes later the guards tap me on my shoulder, saying they want to look at my case again. This time they pull out my hair gel saying there are drugs in it. I protest and keep telling them: “I haven’t got any drugs. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Finally they bundle me into a car and take me to the local police cells. The putrid stench is the first thing that hits me.

There must be 24 of us in a cell with no windows. The women are going crazy, shouting, screaming, attacking each other. 

Suddenly the lights go out – a power failure. It is pitch-black, terrifying. But I know I have to hold it together and not cry.

Any sign of weakness and I feel like I won’t survive the night. Finally I fall asleep in a tangle of bodies in the darkness.

July 27

I can’t believe this is happening. I thought they’d realise it was all a big mistake but I’m still living the nightmare.

I open my eyes, it’s horrific. It’s so hot I can hardly breathe. There are bodies everywhere –  mostly children, some as young as 11.

Some have mattresses, others lie on the filthy concrete, no sheets or blankets.

The air is thick and smelly. The two open loos are overflowing, but I’m desperate. I gag as I use them. Whenever a police officer appears I beg him to tell me what’s happening, for someone to tell my parents where I am, for them to tell somebody, anybody, that I’m in this hell-hole. I get no response.

July 28

I go to court hoping to be released but no one is there and I’m sent back to the cells. The floor is sodden, insects are everywhere. I’m still told nothing.

Hours feel like days. I stare at the walls or listen to other women’s horror stories of how they’d ended up here. There are five foreigners – two Canadians and two Americans and me – and we stick together.

July 29

The British Embassy official is here with a lawyer my parents have paid £1,000 to represent me.

I’m so relieved. People know I’m here, thanks to the call I made to the High Commission when I was arrested. The court date is set for August 12.

It feels an eternity away.

July 30

It is a 90-minute drive to the proper prison this morning. It’s still harsh, but a big improvement on the lock-up. But I’m the only foreigner here – I feel so isolated.

August 5

Today, I was taken back to the hell-hole – the police lock-up. I’ve got no money, so I’ve got no food or water – I’m having to survive on leftovers and am begging for water. They give you three meals a day at the prison – mainly porridge and rice – but here you need to have someone to bring you food from outside and there was no one to bring it to me.

There is a charity that sends food, but not every day.

August 8

A girl of 22 arrived. She’s four months’ pregnant and has been in a fight with another woman. She is bleeding badly but the wardens aren’t interested.

We give her our sanitary pads. Now they’re bloody and piled in the corner and she’s got nothing to staunch the blood with.

August 9

The girl is still bleeding. There is blood all over the floor. We keep calling for help but nobody comes.

August 10

The girl is barely conscious this morning. They finally drag her out. It’s the last time we see her.

August 12

They let me ring Mum and Dad from the court.

I can’t believe I’m finally speaking to them, it really gives me a boost. I get a new court date for August 31. That has to be the date they set me free.

August 16

I’m coming out in these little white spots. I think it’s from the water – it’s full of mosquito larvae.

August 18

Mozzies have bitten me to pieces and I find lice on the thin mattress I sleep on. It’s disgusting.

August 23

The girl next to me has a seizure. I’m scared but the others yell to get a spoon and unblock her airways. I only have my toothbrush. It is utter chaos.

The matrons watch from outside.

We save the girl’s life. And I just lie there, shaking, afterwards.

August 25

There are now 31 of us. It’s so crowded, girls are sharing their mattresses.

It’s hotter and the arguments are getting worse.  Some women are mentally ill, they scream, shout and thrash about. What if everyone’s forgotten about me? What if I’m here the rest of my life? These are dark days.

August 28

Back to the lock-up ready for my court date. Back to hell...

August 29

I wake up in agony, really dehydrated. I have no water and no one gives me any.

August 30

I haven’t eaten for two days – the smell of everyone else’s food was driving me crazy.

They finally give me food from the charity – rice and beans.

It looks disgusting but to me it tastes like heaven.

August 31

My lawyer doesn’t bother to turn up to court, which makes me very, very scared. But the judge just told me to go – leave just like that.

They haven’t found any drugs, there are no reports, no nothing.

I’ve lived like a dog for weeks and they don’t even give me an explanation, but at least I’m free.

The Embassy helps me find a hotel and get my belongings back.

It’s my first night in a bed, in a room on my own, with my own toilet and running water, but I can’t sleep.

I’m so angry.

I feel like I’ve had something stolen from me.

And, strangely. I miss all the people – it’s so quiet.

September 4

Back at the airport I am petrified I’ll get stopped again. The same officers are at customs and remember me – this time they’re all smiles.

But I can’t relax, not until the plane takes off.

September 5

Finally through customs and there’s Dad waiting for me.

He’s such a star. At home in Benfleet, Essex, Mum’s in tears, but everything else seems so normal, just how I’d left it.

I’ve been through hell for five weeks yet everything else is just the same.

I can’t go outside. I’ve got so used to being confined everything seems weird: sleeping in a bed, using a loo with a flush, walking out the door without being dragged back.

But there’s no comeback on what happened.

I can’t sue for wrongful arrest, can’t get any compensation. I’ve just got to pick up my life and carry on.

I’m just glad I’m home safe now. 

* A Foreign Office spokeswoman confirmed that Julie was released from detention in Guyana on August 31 without charge.

Julie’s mum Denise says: “The whole thing has been a nightmare for us.

“We thought it was a joke when we were told that Julie had been arrested for drugs smuggling– she’s just not that type of girl.

“It was five weeks of hell for all of us. Now we’re just glad she’s home safe and sound.”