THE John Fowler who sits relaxed at the head of his family table is a different man to the one I've watched for the past seven months sitting in the dock at the Old Bailey.

That man was stony-faced and serious. This one has a twinkle in his clear, blue eyes and a Cheshire-cat grin that lights up his whole face.

What amazes me most are the jokes, which issue thick and fast as the conversation skips from his arrest in March 2006, through his two years locked up inside one of Britain's toughest prisons, to the trial itself.

Turmoil

Only a constant leg-twitch betrays the turmoil that has engulfed his life since police swooped on him outside Maidstone Hospital.

This is a man who is happy to be home, and in the comfortable surroundings of his farmhouse kitchen, seated next to his loving wife, I can see why.

Mr Fowler, 62, did not appear to react when the verdicts were read out in court. He seemed to be calm and in control as he heard the news that would determine how he lived the rest of his life. But despite the cool exterior, emotions were racing through him.

He told how he was quite calm as they read out the first verdict – not guilty of conspiracy to kidnap – but was still terrified he might be found guilty of conspiracy to rob.

"When they read out the second verdict as not guilty, my knees went weak and I suddenly felt I needed something to hold on to.

"I thought, this is it, I am going home. My heart was pumping and I was just absolutely elated. Then, when the judge said 'you are free to go', I thought this really is it. It was the first time I had walked out of the dock without being handcuffed."

Mr Fowler, who says he is the "least likely person in the world to kidnap anyone", describes being in a daze as he was guided into the public part of the Old Bailey – unfamiliar territory to a man who, despite spending seven months in the dock and cells, had never seen the other side of the court.

"It was a fab feeling," he said. "I had not gone out into freedom, into fresh air, for two years.

"It really hit home that it was all real when I pulled up outside my barrister’s office and my daughter Amy pulled up in the taxi behind me."

Over the top

Soon after Mr Fowler was reunited with his wife Linda, who had rushed up from Kent as soon as she heard the news.

With tears rolling down their cheeks the pair, who had remained devoted to each other throughout the ordeal, hugged. Both were overcome with being able to hold each other after two years of seeing each other across a table at Belmarsh.

That evening Mr Fowler stepped through his front door at Elderden Farm, a place he feared he would never see again.

"I walked into the house through the back door and my family were all here with a bottle of champagne. We just sat down and had a family meal together," he said.

Mr Fowler's nightmare started when he was arrested on Sunday, February 26, 2006, outside Maidstone Hospital. He was taken to Tonbridge police station and spent three long days being interrogated by police.

He said: "I kept thinking 'any minute I will be going home', but once they started talking about Elderden Farm being the holding place, I just started panicking. I could not believe what they were telling me."

The following Friday he was taken to Belmarsh and placed in the high security unit. After leaving the house and thinking he would be back in an hour, it was three weeks until he saw his wife again.

Despite the elation of being free, Mr Fowler's demeanour changes when he touches on his time inside Belmarsh, a prison originally built to hold members of the IRA. He states that being held in the high security unit was "totally over the top" for a man on remand.

"Being somewhere like that plays mind games on you," he said. "If you have a problem it is highlighted because you can't speak to anyone about it."

Regimented routine

Mr Fowler was held in a stark 11ft by 6ft cell, and, like all prisoners in the unit, moved cells each month.

Each day his routine was regimented; breakfast in the cell at 8am and an hour exercise either in the morning or afternoon. Some days the father of three, who is just three years away from receiving his pension, would be locked up all day.

Linda Fowler talks about her husband being a popular figure in jail with both inmates and guards, and with his sense of humour and gentle ways it is easy to see why.

But regardless of his popularity, Mr Fowler was still subjected to the same indignities that hardened criminals face.

Each time he had contact with the outside world he would be strip-searched, and visits were limited to a few hours each week.

Of all the things that John Fowler has endured for his mistake of doing a favour for his "friend" Stuart Royle, the biggest loss is losing two years of his three children's life. "Before I went in my son Jack was my friend, my shadow. He was 14 and up to here." He points to his chest.

"I've come out and he is now 16 and towering above me. Luckily I am still his friend but now we can go down the pub with him."

See the Kent Messenger for a 16-page special on the Securitas trial.