Oh God. I called M’s social worker this morning and he called me back this afternoon.
I’m still in shock. It’s a serious offence. He’s in Pentonville, not the psychiatric wing, just in the general prison.
I can’t say more at the moment: confidentiality.
[Pentonville is the most violent prison in the UK for prisoner assaults.]
After talking for about half an hour to the social worker, I had to go into my therapy group. I felt depressed, angry and in shock. I cried. The group wasn’t much help today – I just felt even worse about myself, because I didn’t care about the other people’s problems. I called a cab to get home.
I’m in tears writing this.
That’s it really.