Escape From Pretoria

By the time Stephen and I graduated in '73,

half of South Africa was in flames.

The police were shooting black kids like rabbits

whilst the other half sipped piña coladas

on their whites-only beaches.

Growing up under apartheid

meant the segregation of people by the colour of their skin.

And as our eyes opened,

the naked reality of apartheid stood before us.

I was born like this!

I'm not ashamed to be a Saffer. Ask in the eyes of God!

What we'd always accepted, we would now reject.

We didn't want a life built on lies and indifference.

We wanted to join the ongoing struggle

for a democratic and free South Africa

not based on racial discrimination.

But unless we got up from our privileged white lives

and did something, our words were meaningless.

What we chose to do was the most radical of all things

and without doubt the most explosive.

We joined the prohibited African National Congress...

...and ran anti-apartheid missions

alongside our black and Asian brothers and sisters,

spreading the news that freedom and equality for all races

should be fought for at all costs.

- Let's go! - Aren't we going to watch?

No, Stephen, we don't have time for this, OK?

- Let's just... - (BOOM!)

They're closing in on us.

Hey, you! Stay where you are!

And the costs were greater than either of us imagined.

I've got you the money. Don't let them catch you with it.

They will add another 12 years to your life.

- Make sure you don't appeal. - I won't.

I'm not begging some fascist bastard judge

to come take pity on us.

Give it to me.

Whatever happens in there, don't give up.

I won't.

Go, go, go. I love you.

OK.

- (QUIET CHATTER) All rise.

The Republic of South Africa v. Timothy Jenkin and Stephen Lee.

My commendation to the prosecution.

A very well put case.

The retrieval of 17 custom-built devices

for 26 separate bombings is no small thing.

But laying out the most pernicious aspects

of this ANC ideology...

...that all races are equal and all this sort of thing

has been the strongest part of your case.

And if I'm to understand it correctly,

one of the defendants' fathers is an eminent pharmacologist

and the other a scholar in the humanities.

This country raised you.

It gave birth to you

and it provided all your worldly needs.

And this is how you choose to repay it?

The State of South Africa now tells you

the price you will pay in return.

And so,

defendant number one and chief bomb maker, Timothy Jenkin,

you are sentenced to imprisonment

for a total of 12 years.

And defendant number two, the accomplice, Stephen Lee,

you are sentenced to imprisonment

for a total of eight years.

Sentences are to commence

at Pretoria Political Prison for White Males.

So... that's that.

All rise.

Sit there!

Shit! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

Let's talk about this, man, alright?

Let's talk. Let me esca...

(POUNDS ON WALL) Keep your mouth shut in there!

- Alright?! - (ENGINE STARTS)

- How's it? - How's it?

At last, the leaflet bombers are here, hmm?

And after all your fancy tricks,

you're reduced to jumping from windows like rats, huh?

Hey!

No-one forced you to traitor your country and your race!

You are the white Mandela.

You are the most deluded of them all.

Van der Merwe!

Read it!

"No pens, no radio, no newspapers.

"No political conversation.

"No parcels larger than the size of a 6" x 4" envelope.

"Visitors once per month, subject to state vetting.

"And there is to be no sexual activity of any kind

"anywhere on the premises."

Here! Step on the line.

Step over the line.

Disengage the grille door.

Move.

Up to the line.

Proceed.

Move.

(PRISONERS CHATTER, SHOUT AND WHISTLE)

Come on, move!

In.

39378.

In.

Turn.

Move!

Alright, pube lice!

Lights out 11:00, morning bell 5:00,

breakfast 7:30.

I like my cells clean as a plate.

Remember that and you'll live a long and prosperous life.

Now... total silence!

Step away from the grille.

Best bloody kip in years.

I could get used to this.

Fall out!

Idiot.

Go. Walk. Walk!

Alright, guys, move along. Move along.

Alright, quieten down. Let's keep it down, guys.

Walk. Walk.

Go on.

Sit.

Thank you.

Don't sit there.

We are segregated, my friend.

They wear blue shirts for a reason.

Unless you want to sit next to a murderer.

No. This is... this is good.

Kitson.

Alright, quiet down, huh?

What was that?

Can I join you, gentlemen?

- Can I...? - Please.

We've heard about you two.

- We've heard about you. - Yeah. It's... it's an honour.

How many years?

Eight for me. Twelve for him.

Ja, but we don't plan on staying that long.

Hold on to that anger.

It reminds you there's another world outside all this.

- (CLATTERING) - (MEN LAUGH)

Nobody said stop. Move!

Calm down, now. - (TROLLEY CLATTERS)

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Ladies, we're going to call this one Potluck.

One for each slop, my friend.

- (THUMP!) - (POTLUCK SCREAMS)

Damned bastards!

Come on. Get it over there.

Good boy.

Something's weighing you down, I think.

Are you packing?

You can tell by the way you run you've got at least

a bottle of beer and some glasses up there.

Cigar tubes. 360 rand.

Expensive tastes.

Let me give you the guided tour.

In case you're wondering, it's 20 foot high.

The barbed wire's flailed so it traps right under your skin.

Searchlights. On from sundown to sunrise.

Covers every inch of the yard.

Boers with guns from lockup till dawn.

There's nothing they'd like more than to pump holes into you.

And tunnels in any direction,

they just lead you back onto prison property.

Apart from that wall. It lines a public street.

I knew a chap one time.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his money out.

And the whole thing got infected.

The point I'm making is, everybody comes in here going

they're gonna break out of here by next week.

We are prisoners of conscience.

So it's different for us.