“Come Home, Pet” Prison Guard Tells Richard Satchwell Pointing To Cell

ECHOING the cold-blooded murderer’s phony media pleas, prison officer Barry Noonan quietly ushered the now sheepish Richard Satchwell to his new, rightful residence: a seven-square-meter prison cell.

“Come home, pet,” the officer offered coldly. His voice lacked any hint of irony, the disgust in his tone making it clear he took no satisfaction in the duty, just grim resolve in delivering a coward to his fate.

The Irish prison cell, frankly too good for the man now occupying it, stood in stark contrast to where Satchwell’s wife and victim Tina Satchwell had spent the six years buried beneath concrete under the stairs.

“We tried to get you a cell under our prison stairs, but decided that would be a little too convenient for your strolls to the yard,” Noonan added dryly, peering through the cell’s food hatch at the convicted murderer, before slamming the hatch shut with a sharp clang – a sound eerily reminiscent of a final shovel hitting wet concrete.

Now the one confined, isolated, and with no control over his comings and goings, Satchwell’s only comfort lies in sentencing rules in the Irish justice system which could see him walk free in 12 years.

“We seem to be handing out life sentences in dog years,” one online commenter noted, “which is ironic—considering this man treated his dead pets with more compassion than he did his wife.”