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The scariest day of my life
By Spooky
2001-02-24
From 1995 to 1997 someone known as the ‘Mardi Gras Bomber’ subjected two major corporations in the UK to a campaign of urban terrorism. The two corporations in question were the internationally known Barclay Bank PLC and the supermarket (grocery store) giant J.Sainsbury PLC. The two companies were systematically targeted at their branches in SouthEast England with homemade explosive letter bomb and incendiary devices. This is the story of how I was mistaken for this urban terrorist and was subsequently followed by the Terrorist Division of Scotland Yard known as Special Branch.
Some background for you first. At the end of 1996, I had just ended a relationship with a girl from West London. It had turned out that she was a paranoid schizophrenic that had been committed twice before (I expect she has been committed again no doubt). The relationship ended rather nastily, with her getting her other psychotic friends to threaten my life. Now I am, would you believe, a very passive creature. I would rather run from a fight than fight. This all happened at a time in my life when my head was, shall we say, not screwed on tightly. I had been subjecting my body and mind to countless chemicals and was, to say the least, a bit of a speed demon. As Christmas of that year approached, I received telephone calls at work threatening my life, and messages on my answerphone. Eventually they found out my address, and let me know this in a message. I am not afraid to say that I was terrified, although admittedly I was usually running on 5 hours sleep in 48 hours.
One of the other reasons for my excess fear stemmed from the fact that I was alone in the house. My flatmates had returned home for the Christmas Break and I had stayed because of employment commitments. But, I hear you say, you must have had neighbours. And the answer was yes. They were both in their 80's. A lot of use they would be if it all kicked off. On top of this, our house was what can only be described as a cottage. The only cottage in the middle of a 300-yard alleyway with no lights, set behind the shops on the main street of town called Eltham in SouthEast London. It shared the alleyway with my place of work J.Sainsbury (the supermarket), which was only 40 yards from the front door (handy for when you have overslept). As you can imagine, it was not the safest place in the world to live at this point in my life. To add to my fear, my neighbour informed me on Christmas Eve that he had seen two guys eyeing up the house while I had been away for a few days. The fear was definitely starting to get to me.
I stayed with my best mate for the next few days over Christmas until the 30th of December. It was that day that will stay in my mind for the rest of my life, and it is that day that I have never written down until now.
I returned from Sye's house (my mate) at 6 a.m. that morning after a night on the Playstation. The walk always scared me anyhow, but it was worse this day. As I approached the top of the High Street, I had a decision to make. Do I take the main road to the cut in to the alley by my house, and safety in the light, or do I take the back route all the way? I chose the road. I was 100 yards from the cut in when I saw him first: Short, stocky, bomber jacket and wooly hat. Shit what do I do now? It could be one of them! Thinking on my feet, I take a side road and head for the alley at an earlier cut in. I walked at a pace, didn't run, I was too scared. No sleep for two days really fucks your head up. As I approached my house and the cut in I was going to originally take, he walked out from it. Shit! 'Eyes to the ground Phil,' I told myself, 'keep fucking walking. Open the gate and get the fuck in the house'. I made it. I took off my beanie. A green Vandals Beanie to be precise with an upside down anarchy symbol on the front, this may not seem important to you now, but I think it may have been to them.
For the next three hours I sat in my room upstairs at the front. Watching him. He didn't move and he would look at the house every so often. Thank God for net curtains. I was now starting to really panic. Everyone I knew said she had been fucking with me, that no one was gonna do anything. As far as I was concerned, they were all wrong. I couldn't even ring Sye, the phone had been cut off. I had to figure out what to do. I knew that there was a good chance it was just paranoia. I kept telling myself, 'its nothing, chill out'. But the fear wouldn't leave me. I knew what I had to do. I had to prove to myself that it was paranoia, or prove to myself it was not. That meant going outside. It was now daylight, and the shops were open. Nobody would do anything in daylight. It was time to put my insane thoughts to the test once and for all. I reasoned that if I walked aimlessly around the town I would soon be able to tell if someone was following me or watching me.
I left the house and walked to the cut in. He was still there. Out onto the High Street and down to McDonald's. It was time for breakfast. On the walk I saw this guy. Skinny looking geezer, carrying a bag. Something was not right about him. I can't recall what. He was walking towards me and up the High Street. I walked past him and headed for McDonald's. After coming out from McDonald's he was there again. This time on the other side of road, my side of the road, and walking towards me. Ok, he's looking at the shops, no big deal. I walk to the top of the High Street. Remember this High Street is about 500 yards long in total. Nearing the top I turn and he's only 10 yards behind me. He stops and looks in the window. Ok, this is freaky. I cross and walk back down. He does the same. I turn and walk towards him and past him, I reasoned that if he was following me I would know now. After about 50 yards I turn and he is there again. Shit!
By this time I in the middle of the High Street, at the cut in I walked out of some 20 minutes before. By this time the other guy had gone. I walk into the cut in and take the back alley up to the top of the high street. Now up this way there is a road that the mini cabs use when picking up the old ladies from Sainsburys. I decided to take the road. I walked past a Peugeot 405 with a guy in it with the door open drinking tea. He has a radio in the car, but it is not a Mini Cab radio, this radio is advanced shit, better than your ordinary CB. To tell you the truth, I didn't really pay attention to him at this point. I was more concerned about the guy on foot. As I get 50 or so yards from him, I hear the engine start and he drives off. 'Probably a rich cabby', I think. I get to the end of the road. I can go right down the hill to the park, or left to the High Street. I choose left to the high street. As I approach the T-junction for the High Street who should pull round the corner? The Peugeot. 'Ok no big problem, he was parked on a one way street he had to turn around.' I walked back down the High Street, crossing the road first. The guy on foot crosses the road about 50 yards down from me. My mind at this point is absolutely fucking racing. 'How many of them are there? What are they going to do to me?'
I decided to sit down. I needed to think, and think quick. I sat down on the bench outside the Catholic Church. 'Is there a God?' I thought. Then the worst thing in my life happened. The Peugeot was driving towards me down the High Street. Now let me explain, the road this guy took goes down to the park and then loops back up to some traffic lights further up the High Street. This guy had done a complete fucking circle?!!?! 'OK Phil, look at him' I think. He stared at me straight in the eyes as he drove past. Shit this was getting bad. I still had no proof whatsoever I was being followed, just insane paranoid speculation. It was killing me. The other guy on foot had stopped at this point, casually looking in the window of a Baker's shop, still holding his one little bag after at least an hour now of working round the shops. 'What should I do?'. My only hope, I thought, was the police station, right at the far end of the High Street and round the corner on the road towards Woolwich Town. I got up and walked. It was the longest walk I have ever taken down that street. On the way I passed the bag guy. He seemed to ignore me. Once past him, he was on the move again in my direction. The Peugoet drove past on the other side of the road. 'Fuck he's turned round again??!?!?' Then I saw him. The new one. The scary one. He was at least 6ft 3 in a long green trench coat. Brown hair and a moustache. Now I had lived in this town for two years, and had walked that street everyday. I knew the faces. This was not one of them. I walked past him and made it to the police station.
I don't remember what I said to the officer in the station. I was flustered, paranoid, frightened. She knew it too, and in all honesty if I remember correctly, ignored my pleas for help. I think she told me to go home and stop worrying. 'Until they do something no crime has been committed.' What next? I decided to get a taxi to Woolwich. I would go to the cab office I always used and get one of the lads to take me. That way I could lose the guys on foot. As I walked out of the station, I looked across the road. Another odd looking car. New blue Mercedes. 'Nobody round here can afford one of those!’. The driver looked straight at me. I walked down the hill to the taxi office. He drove off the other way.
Once in the taxi I felt safe. It was comforting knowing I was with a friend. He dropped me off in Woolwich. Now let me explain Woolwich. It is a small town centre, but it’s pedestrianised. Lots of alleys and not many cars in the centre. I reasoned that if I was followed, I could lose someone in here easily. I could even try and go into the Uni buildings. I walked along the main street and everything was fine. I started to relax. I turned to go down to the river. I thought it would be relaxing down there. As I reached the road that passes between the town and river, the blue Merc drives past. I know it was the same one, I had the license plate in my mind. 'Shit!' I turned back to the no car zone. I got into the main street. Trench coat guy is walking, staring right at me. 'Fuck', I think, 'these people are fucking well organized'. That was the clincher for me. I knew I was being followed from that point on. Woolwich is 5 miles from Eltham. This guy is on foot in Eltham, and ten minutes later he is in Woolwich walking towards me again? This is not a coincidence.
Time to get smart. I stopped to look in a window. He stopped too. I walked a little and he crossed to the other side of the no-car street. I stopped again and looked in the electrical shop. I glanced over my shoulder, and he had stopped and was looking at me. I turned and faced him, took out a cigarette, and lit it. He turned around and looked in the jeweler’s shop. This was my chance. I ran to the phone box. Now this was cool. It was one of those phone boxes that once inside you can see out but no one can see in. He turned around and I could tell he was looking puzzled. He stared across the street at where I was, then looked up and down. He then reached into his pocket and took out a mobile phone and began running up the street away from me whilst talking on it.
I rang my dad next. Shit, I was fucked up. I told him everything and cried down the phone. There was nothing he could do for me. He was 150 miles away. I said I would call him when I was safe indoors. I rang Jo, my friend, she lived in Plumstead, about two miles from Woolwich. If I could get there without being followed, I was safe. My letting agent was also there and I could arrange to move house, there and then. Somehow I got to a bus, went on the top deck and hid until I got to Plumstead. I swapped my keys for a flat and then sat at Jo's all day and told them what had happened. I had a joint with them, and they started to get paranoid.
Three days after moving, I had to go back to work. This was hard. The shop was next door to the old house. What if they were there? I got a lift to the store from a friend. I told the manager what had happened, as they knew all about the threats. They all thought that I was a paranoid junkie. Then it happened. There I am, putting out some apples on the display, and who walks through the front door. The guy in the trench coat. Looking straight at me. He walks straight up to the store manager and shakes his hand. They then went off, presumably to the manager's office. An hour later I was called to the manager.
Phil (that's the manager's name) sits me down in the office. 'It seems that you led Special Branch a very merry dance the other day Phil' he says. 'Special Branch!' I say. 'What were Special Branch doing in Eltham, and why were they following me?' It turned out that they had received information that the 'Mardi Gras Bomber' was planning on making Eltham store the next target of his campaign. They had started their operation at 5 a.m. the morning my day of hell started. I was a prime suspect! (remember the anarchy symbol on my beanie). They had seen me come into the store that morning, and wanted to confirm my identity and my validity as a member of the staff. The manager also told me how Special Branch had been amazed I gave them the slip, particularly given that they specialize in undercover observation in terrorist cases. After being told this I went back to work on the shop floor. The guy in the trench coat was at the front door of the shop when I got down there. He looked right at me, smiled and then nodded.
Two weeks later a pipe bomb exploded outside the store. I was inside at the time. No one was injured by it. It was this operation that led Special Branch to capture one of Britain most wanted criminals, and I had been part of it.
And that people, is my story.