‘When the school bell goes, it’s fight or flight’ – the PTSD faced by NI’s prison guards

Triggered by sound

When the school bell goes it s – For Rebecca, a routine trip to the school to pick up her children can transform into a moment of sheer terror. The familiar chime of the school bell, she explains, “instantly pulls me into a state of hyperawareness.” This reaction is not just a personal struggle but a reflection of her traumatic experiences in a Northern Ireland prison, where the same auditory cue once signaled danger. Her 11-year tenure as a prison guard was marked by physical and verbal assaults, which have left her with a diagnosis of complex PTSD.

“I’ll flinch, I’ll dart forward. In my job, when that alarm rings, I’m not fleeing from the threat—I’m rushing toward it. It’s a constant drain on my energy,” Rebecca said.

Rebecca, who chose to use a pseudonym, is among two former guards who shared their stories with BBC Radio Ulster’s Talkback programme. Alongside Simon, another anonymous speaker, they highlighted the lasting emotional toll of their roles and a perceived absence of support from prison authorities. Both described navigating environments where drugs, paramilitary groups, and some of the region’s most dangerous criminals were a daily reality.

A career in chaos

Simon, who retired from his post in 2013, began his career in 1988 at the now-closed Maze prison. During the height of the Troubles—a decades-long conflict in Northern Ireland spanning the 1970s, 80s, and 90s—the Maze, particularly its infamous H-block wing, was known for housing paramilitary prisoners. “I had no idea what to expect when I started,” Simon recalled. “It was like working in a place where violence and drug use were part of the everyday routine.” He emphasized the pervasive threat, noting that even outside the prison walls, he felt the pressure of dissident republicans watching him in Belfast’s city centre.

“It was always a battle. You were under attack, constantly facing the risk of violence, and the prisoners—both loyalist and republican—operated with their own agendas. The government seemed indifferent, offering no real protection,” Simon added.

Simon’s condition has evolved into a set of triggers, including intrusive flashbacks. He described a recent night when he felt transported back to a prison block, battling memories of his past. “In the morning, I wake up with relentless headaches and stomach pains,” he said. These physical symptoms, he noted, are compounded by the emotional burden of his experiences. Divorced and living with the aftermath of his trauma, Simon admitted that his personal life has been shaped by the darkness of his job.

Overcrowded cells and strained staff

By 2025, Northern Ireland’s prison system faced new challenges, with a “high density” of inmates forcing cell-sharing arrangements at Maghaberry jail. This trend, based on 2023-24 data, means the region’s prison population stood at 109 per 100,000 people—higher than Scotland’s 149 and England and Wales’ 140. The overcrowding exacerbates existing pressures, creating an environment where stress and trauma are more likely to manifest.

The Department of Justice defended the system, stating that claims of rampant drug use, ignored staff safety, and lack of support for wellbeing “lack evidence.” “We recognize the difficulties of prison work,” they said, “but we remain committed to the safeguards in place and the dedication of our personnel.” Despite these assurances, former guards like Rebecca and Simon argue that the psychological impact of their roles is often overlooked.

Living with the aftermath

Rebecca’s transformation from a dedicated officer to someone haunted by her experiences is stark. “The job changed me in ways I never anticipated,” she said. Her work primarily involved sex offenders, and even reviewing their crimes left her “terrified.” “I had to let go of people I knew weren’t going to change, and that weighed on me deeply,” she explained.

“Every day I felt the danger, and if I didn’t sense it, I would question whether I’d done my job properly,” Rebecca said.

Her complex PTSD has led to panic attacks, often forcing her into hospital stays. “I don’t trust anyone. My husband, my friends, even myself—I can’t be sure of anyone’s intentions,” she confessed. This distrust, she said, has strained her relationships, leaving her feeling isolated. “I stay for the grandchildren, otherwise I’d have walked away long ago,” she added.

Expert perspective on trauma

Dr. Michael Duffy, director of Queen’s University Belfast’s Research Centre for Stress, Trauma and Related Conditions (STARC), provided insight into the nature of PTSD. “Traumatic memories can resurface unexpectedly, triggered by situations that mirror past experiences,” he said. These intrusions, he noted, often lead individuals to “suppress their emotions” through alcohol or other coping mechanisms.

“People constantly face the threat of reliving their trauma, and without proper support, it becomes a cycle they can’t escape,” Dr. Duffy explained.

The psychological toll of Northern Ireland’s prison system, he argued, is not just about the events that occur within its walls but also the lingering effects that shape life outside. “The stress of knowing you could be attacked at any moment changes how you perceive the world,” he said. For Rebecca and Simon, this perception has altered their sense of safety, trust, and identity.

Long-term consequences

Both guards describe their careers as a rollercoaster of danger, where the line between duty and survival blurred. Simon, who once believed he could manage the chaos, now lives with the constant fear of being triggered. Rebecca, who found herself unable to “switch off,” has carried the weight of her experiences into her personal life. Their stories underscore the emotional and physical challenges of working in a system where violence is routine and support is often lacking.

As the prison population continues to grow, the question remains: is the system adequately addressing the mental health needs of its staff? For Rebecca and Simon, the answer is no. Their journeys highlight the human cost of a profession that demands resilience in the face of relentless threats. While the Department of Justice insists on the professionalism of its officers, the reality for those who have endured trauma is far more complex.