Summary
DAYS ago, I sat with Farah Damji in the grim visitors' room of Holloway prison. She drank a cup of weak sugared coffee from a polystyrene cup and an opened bag of chocolates sat on the plastic table in front of us.
Other prisoners sat around us at their tables, waiting for their visitors.See the full content of this document
Extract
When I'm Out of Jail, I'd Like My Kids Back
Every prisoner had a red bib on over their clothes; if one took it off, an officer went quickly over to tell her to put it back on. Damji looked sad and subdued, her skin was ashen and blemished. Her nails were nicely manicured but her left arm was crosshatched with angry red slashes; she did it with a razor blade, she says, even though she's been on suicide watch and should not have had access to anything that might harm her.
Was she trying to kill herself ? "I hones...See the full content of this document
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