*
The prison sits on the high ground of Armley, its massive Victorian exterior and castellated towers dominating the horizon like a medieval fortress. Constructed in 1847 of stone from local quarries, its purpose was to both punish and to intimidate. Ninety-three people have been hanged at HMP Leeds, the last in 1961; the gallows were eventually dismantled in 1965. Today, the prison is no less intimidating. I stand in the reception area and look at the noticeboard. On the wall there is a picture of the Race Relations Management Team. Three white faces, including the governor of the prison. 'HMP Leeds is committed to the elimination of harassment and discrimination in all areas of work.' Times appear to have changed. 'No single racial group will be allowed to dominate any activity to the unfair exclusion of others.' I enter the prison itself. The chapel is now the multi-faith centre. On all four wings I see different races, and out in the exercise yard the faces are an advert for multi-racial Britain. The warder smiles at me. 'Today we cater for all different religious foods and practices, except Jewish. Roman Catholic and Muslim are the main ones.' I look again at the prisoners sprawled on the ground trying to soak up the weak rays of the sun. 'Back then they had to walk in circles for an hour. But it's different now.' The warder thinks for a moment. 'Easier for them, I suppose.'
I saw Oluwale on a number of occasions and I note, by looking at the hospital case papers, that when I saw him on 25 October, 1965, he complained to me about the police and I asked him what he was in prison for and he said, 'Fighting with the police.' After further questioning I deduced that he had been fighting with the police in Albion Street on 13 October, 1965, he said, 'A policeman removed his hat and grasped his [sic] throat.' He alleged that this had occurred because he had been sleeping in an empty house in Albion Street and was about to enter the house at 7:30 p.m. when two policemen accosted him and he added, 'They took me to Leeds Town Hall.' My assessment of Oluwale's intelligence is that he was a 'dullard'.
Denis Power, Senior Medical Officer at HMP Leeds 1962–7
The last time I saw David was a few months before he died. It was dark and wintertime, and my husband and I were coming back from some university dance. David was by the public lavatories at Hyde Park Corner. There were shrubs and bushes there, and a bench. It was the sort of place that was used for 'cottaging'. Well, David was sitting on the bench, and my husband went over to the chip shop and got him a bag of chips, which he took. David said that he didn't want to go home with us. He insisted that he had somewhere to go, and so we left him sitting by himself on the bench. At the dances that David used to come to after he first arrived, he never paired off or chatted up women. He was very solitary. But, as I said, he was a marvellous dancer. And he liked church singing. You know, he used to look in the papers to see if any West Indians had died so that he could go to the funeral, but it had to be in a church that would accept black people. The Anglicans discriminated against the blacks, but the Methodists were cooler. David wasn't a practising Christian, but he was educated by Christian missionaries, that much I do know.
As far as I remember he just called at the hostel and asked for accommodation. [Between 17 April and 4 July, 1968] I do not think he was sent there by any social-work organisation. . He did not mix with the other men in the hostel and he had no friends that I knew of. As far as I can remember he left the hostel of his own accord. About May, 1969, nearly a year later, the police. . asked me to identify a body that they had found in the River Aire. I was unable to make a positive identification as the face was badly distorted. As far as I know, Oluwale never attacked anybody in the hostel and certainly never attacked my wife. He did ask my wife to live with him in a room away from the hostel, but she told him not to be stupid and ignored his remark. I never spoke to Oluwale about the suggestion he made to my wife. The type of man we usually get in the hostels are capable of making such suggestions and my wife and I have learned to ignore them.
Raymond Bradbury, officer in charge of Church Army Hostel, 53 The Calls, Leeds