People who work in the prison system, Did you hear smuggled phones going off at 3pm?

Short answer - contempt of court Longer answer - not being able to confirm my name & address in the magistrates court due to being nonverbal & extremely dissociated during a severe mental health episode. Much longer answer: I had presented at A&E a couple of days prior, in mental health crisis. I was already extremely agitated; after waiting 14 hours whilst in this state and being fobbed off with no immediate help, the only thing I could think to do was refuse to leave. I promptly found myself underneath a pile of police officers, ineffectively lashing out in panic with all my 45kg; I probably got my fingernails into a couple of them at least. Not exactly rational, but people behaving rationally don't tend to find themselves underneath a pile of police officers in the first place. Anyway, that saw me arrested for assaulting police officers and I was dragged off to a police cell for several more rounds of being violently restrained by police officers over the next day/night ('to keep me safe') before a full day of similar treatment by the magistrates court security, who have a similar if not even more savage approach to people in mental health crisis (judging by the amount of screaming I could hear from multiple cells and the puddle of urine in the corridor that I was deliberately frogmarched through in my bare feet). I had barely eaten for a couple of weeks before this due to the severity of the escalating mental health crisis, and at no point during these 3 days of A&E/police cells/court cells I would have been able to eat even if I had been offered food (I was not). By now I had what can only be described as dissociatiative symptoms - or something i later came across called dorsal-vagal shutdown - basically was no longer able to move my body or react to anything, and sounds sounded very far away, with an unreal quality, and took a long time to process. So, it was a sort of deadened surprise to me that this is how some people end up seeing the inside of a prison for the first time. I'll be honest, they were so kind to me during prison intake and fostered such a sense of safety that it brought me back into myself somewhat and I was able to eat some food in a little waiting room by myself. I remember it - sausage, chips and beans - as having an almost magical quality to it. I was given a set of pj's and a pair of socks to sleep in,m. Could have done without being woken up every hour in the night with a torch being shone in my eyes to make sure that I hadn't offed myself. I also had the most thorough mental health assessment of my life, which was very heartening at the time. They actually asked me if I have any trauma - something which there had never been a jot of curiosity about in the previous two decades of trying to access appropriate mental health care. Alas, like every other assessment that I've ever had, it was never joined up to anything and subsequently apparantly lost.