by V E Rooney
“Then who did, Jimmy? Who did?”
He goes silent, and then he stops struggling. His body goes limp. He lies against me motionless, gasping for air. Is he weeping? The fucker is weeping.
“It was MI5!” he cries.
What. The. Fuck…
“What? What did you say?” I gasp, not wanting to believe it, wanting to believe I misheard him.
“It was MI5! They got rid of Sean! They killed him…”
As I try to comprehend what he’s saying, he blurts it all out. The whole thing.
“I’m a grass, alright! I’m a fucking grass! They got to me after one of the heroin runs…Customs caught me red-handed and turned me over to MI5…they had everything on me. Everything…phone records…photos…bank accounts…everything! I was looking at 30 years to life with no parole. I was fucked and they knew it. So MI5 offered me a deal. Become a grass for them and for Customs and they’d see to it that I got a lower term. So I did. Fucking Kenwood rubber-stamped the deal himself!”
“So you just bent over for them, did you?” I snarl in disgust. “You fucking coward! You just bent over for them and gave everyone up, you fucking…”
“Get real, will you? I had no fucking choice, did I? What, you think you can say no to MI5?” He starts laughing hysterically. “Fucking hell, Ali! They’re the only people who could stop the Turks getting to me. If the Turks had found out I’d been blown, they’d have come over here and fucking slaughtered me. You know what the Turks do to people who fuck them over? Jesus, Ali…”
Then he starts laughing again.
“Fuck…you think you’re so fucking terrifying with your dogs? That’s fuck all compared to what the Turks will do…fucking Satan himself would shit himself in front of that shower.”
“So you turn grass for the spooks, eh? What did you tell them? Did you blow me and Sean up to them? Did you?”
“No! At first they just wanted info on other lads they were keeping tabs on. Small-time lads, no one connected to me, or you or Sean. When I got out of jail, MI5 said if I kept them informed, they’d wave through some of my shipments in return with no hassle. So that the Home Office and the Police could go bragging to the press about how they were seizing the shipments belonging to other lads. MI5 said if I got caught by the busies, they’d sort it out with them. And they did. Every time the busies collared me, it only took one phone call from them to get the charges dropped. They kept their side of the bargain so I had to keep mine. As long as I cooperated, they’d protect me. It’s all in the deal that Kenwood drew up! If I ever had any trouble with rival operators, they’d sort it out for me. Get them busted and send them to jail. I didn’t even need to worry about taking out the competition, OK? MI5 were getting rid of the competition for me!”
“How do you know they killed Sean?” I ask, but already finding my way to the answer.
“It was after that coke run you did when Customs collared you and Sean, when the case got thrown out of court. MI5 were fuming over that, they couldn’t believe that Customs and the busies were such a bunch of useless cunts. They knew you lot were too clever, that you must have been getting inside info from somewhere to keep dodging them. So MI5 came to me, asked me what I knew about you and Sean. All I told them was Sean was the main man in Liverpool. It wasn’t exactly a fucking secret by then, was it? Thanks to the trial, everyone knew who Sean was after that. I didn’t give away anything about his jobs. How the fuck could I? I wasn’t in with Sean and you then, was I? As for you? Well, nobody knew fuck all about you, did they? I couldn’t tell them anything about you. So MI5 started gathering intel on you and Sean. But they couldn’t get near either of you.”
“Which is why you wanted to go in with us, eh? You wanted to come in on the coke deal so you could get close to us, eh? Give us up to them?”
“No! It wasn’t like that! Coming in with you lot was just good business for me! That was nothing to do with MI5!”
“They must have known, Jimmy! They must have known!”
“They didn’t get it from me, I swear down, Ali!”
“Why did they kill Sean?”
“Because he was the main man! Because he was taking the piss out of them with every shipment! Because he was getting his weapons supplied by the fucking IRA! Here’s Customs and MI5, running round like blue-arsed flies trying to get hold of these small-time pricks, crowing about seizing a few kilos here, a few kilos there, and there’s Sean bringing in hundreds of kilos every other month! He was making fools out of them. Both of you were!”
“Why kill him, Jimmy? Why not bust him and brag about bringing him down?”
“Doesn’t work like that, Ali! If they’d busted him, if they’d let him go to trial, he’d have got up in court and blown the whole thing wide open! If it’d gone to court, it would’ve all come out. About all his informers on the inside, thanks to his fucking Mason mates! About how Customs turned a blind eye to millions of quids’ worth of drugs coming into the country, how he was getting inside info from the Police. What, you think MI5 would let some Toccy toe-rag join up with a coke cartel right under their noses? No fucking way! Fuck, Ali, he had enough to destroy the entire Home Office! Even the government! Even if they did let him go to court and get banged up, they knew he’d just carry on doing runs from his fucking jail cell! There was no way they were gonna let him live! They got rid of him! Sent a couple of their lads up to kill him, and make it look like it was a rival hit. And by doing that, they thought they’d flush out the rest of you…they wanted him dead because they thought it’d set everyone else off, cause a fucking gang war. And then they would have had everyone in their sights.”
“Except you, eh, you fucking sack of shit…the files you had on Kenwood…how did you get hold of all that, eh? Don’t tell me MI5 sweetened you up with that?” I say incredulously, not wanting to believe what I’m hearing but knowing that he’s telling me the truth. I let go of his neck.
“It was my one of my insiders in Customs, he got hold of it,” Jimmy says, almost gasping again as he tries to sit up. “Look, Customs and MI5 aren’t best mates, know what I mean? They use each other when it suits them, but most of the time, they can’t stand dealing with each other. My Customs mate had been dropped in the shit by MI5 years back, he had this big case he was working on when all of a sudden, MI5 swooped in and told him to shut it down if he knew what was good for him. They got their way, and my mate lost his promotion. He wanted to get back at them. So…Peter Kenwood? He’d been over in Brussels for some fucking minister meeting thingy, before he became Home Secretary, right? When he came back to Dover on the ferry, a Customs officer found contraband in his baggage. Stuff like amphetamines, poppers and all that shit, yeah? And the Customs fella found all this kiddie porn stuff, all these photos and videos of Kenwood raping these kids. So he holds Kenwood and questions him, leaves him to stew for a bit while the Customs fella figures out what to do, right? Because this stuff being found on a serving government minister…well, big fucking embarrassment, isn’t it? So the Customs fella takes it to my mate who was more senior than him to ask what the fuck he’s supposed to do next. So my mate goes through Kenwood’s stuff, realises he’s got fucking dynamite on his hands. And he also knows that Kenwood will agree to anything to save his own skin, his career, his marriage. So my mate goes to Kenwood and tells him that he’s confiscating this stuff and will make sure it never sees the light of day. In return, Kenwood promised my mate his promotion, which he got. My mate gives all this Kenwood stuff to me for safe-keeping in case his bosses ever got wind of it. So I kept all this stuff, yeah, proof that MI5’s own fucking boss is a paedo, because I knew it was fucking good leverage in case I ever needed it.”
“Which is why Kenwood rubber-stamped your deal with the Home Office…which is why MI5 kept you sweet,” I say, as I make the connections.
“Oh aye, yeah! They couldn’t do a thing about that! They could’ve killed me to shut me up, stop this stuff from ever getting out, but I was too valuable to them. If they�
�d taken me out, that stuff would’ve found its way onto the desk of every TV station, every newspaper editor in the country, and elsewhere. It was my insurance policy. That’s why they left me alone to carry on. All I had to do was feed them a titbit every now and then, drop a name to them to keep them busy.”
“And you dropped everyone else in the shit, didn’t you? How does it feel, Jimmy? Eh, Mr fucking Supergrass? Is it worth it? Is it? Is it worth it?”
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” He’s laughing hysterically now.
“Not any more, you’re not,” I say as I grab the gun, raise it and point it at his head. He’s lying at my feet, spent and stricken. We both know it’s all over. There’s no coming back from this. We’re finished. All of us. When I shoot Jimmy, I’ll put the gun in my mouth and squeeze the trigger, thinking of all the people I’ve loved, hated, lost and destroyed. I don’t want to live in this universe any more.
I curl my finger around the trigger.
Jimmy closes his eyes.
An explosion.
Blinding light.
Rapid steps, shouts and blood-curdling yells.
I lie on the floor of the container, disorientated. Unbelieving.
It’s not over.
ARMED POLICE! DROP THE GUN! DROP THE GUN NOW! FACE DOWN ON THE FLOOR! DO IT NOW!
It’s not over.
***
On Wednesday, 21st of May, 1997, Alison Reynolds and Jimmy Powell were arrested inside the Seaforth Container Port in Liverpool, in a joint operation conducted by Merseyside Police and HM Customs & Excise. Both were charged with importing 520 kilos of cocaine into the UK and were remanded into custody to await trial.
Three other members of the smuggling ring were also arrested in coordinated Police and Interpol raids across Europe on suspicion of conspiring to import cocaine – Roberto Nunes, a Venezuelan national, was arrested in the Netherlands; Simon Hamilton-Bain, a UK national, was arrested in the UK; and another UK man (who cannot be identified for legal reasons) was also arrested but was later released without charge.
Roberto Nunes was subjected to extradition procedures in order to bring him to the UK to face trial, but a lengthy and protracted battle to avoid extradition resulted in the eventual collapse of the case against him. Upon his release from custody, Nunes subsequently fled the Netherlands and is believed to have returned to Venezuela, out of the reach of the authorities.
The charges against Simon Hamilton-Bain were dropped due to what law enforcement agencies attributed to lack of evidence, although sources within law enforcement tell me that “an unprecedented level of political interference” saw the withdrawal of all charges against him. Hamilton-Bain subsequently sued the Police for wrongful arrest and reached an out-of-court settlement. Hamilton-Bain’s solicitor told me that his client is now seeking selection as a Conservative Member of Parliament.
The unnamed UK man was released without charge and is thought to have returned to the Merseyside area. No further action was taken against him.
On Friday, 6th of June, 1997, the Home Secretary, Peter Kenwood, announced his shock resignation from his post, citing “ill health”, and also resigned as an MP, triggering a by-election in his constituency. Kenwood was subsequently made a Conservative peer in the House of Lords and retains his seat to this day.
On Monday, 15th of September, 1997, Reynolds and Powell were sent to trial at the Old Bailey in London amid unprecedented levels of security both inside and outside the court. After the conclusion of their two-month trial, both were convicted. Reynolds was given a 25-year sentence with the presiding Judge, Lord Justice Sanders, telling the court: “The evidence clearly shows that you were the ringleader of this plot, and that you were involved every step of the way. You oversaw and organised the importation of hundreds of kilos of drugs into this country, blighting countless lives in the process. Your ruthlessness and greed have blinded you to the misery you have caused. I have no hesitation in recommending the severest sentence for your crime.”
The flurry of media attention following the trial saw law enforcement agencies basking in the glory of capturing the UK’s most notorious drug smuggler. One law enforcement source told me: “Reynolds was the linchpin in one of the most sophisticated drug smuggling rings we’ve ever encountered. There is no doubt that her conviction dealt a crippling blow to organised drugs trafficking, not just in the UK but around the world. She was single-handedly responsible for flooding the UK with hundreds, possibly thousands of kilos of cocaine, and was the head of a network with tentacles around the world.”
The end of Reynolds’ criminal career also had far-reaching ramifications for the criminal underworld in Liverpool. With the removal of Reynolds, law enforcement agencies were able to penetrate an already-fragmented gang culture in the city, which had been weakened by the killing of Sean Kerrigan. In the weeks following his death, a wave of tit-for-tat killings took place across Merseyside. The upsurge of violence which permeated the city following his death was quenched by the deployment of armed Police on the streets of Liverpool, and rival gangs found themselves paralysed. Several of the city’s gangsters are known to have fled abroad. But law enforcement officials are mindful that the new generation of gangsters are biding their time until they can position themselves as the new main men in town.
Jimmy Powell was sentenced to 16 years for what Judge Sanders called his “lesser role” in organising the shipment.
Reynolds was sent to HMP Holloway to serve her sentence, where she remains to this day, while Powell was sent to HMP Belmarsh in London. But less than 18 months into his sentence, Powell was released and pardoned by the new Home Secretary, a move that caused outrage amongst law enforcement agencies. Securing a royal pardon is difficult enough even in the most favourable of circumstances. For a criminal on the level of Powell, securing a pardon is virtually unheard of. “Nobody could believe it,” one law enforcement source told me. “Powell was caught with those drugs practically red-handed, and yet the Home Secretary saw fit to give him a royal pardon which ensured his freedom.”
The circumstances behind the granting of this pardon continue to cause consternation amongst those familiar with Reynolds and Powell. Whilst in prison in Belmarsh, Powell contacted his solicitor, telling him that he wanted to turn supergrass. Powell let it be known that he had some very valuable information about various weapons and drugs stashes, which he would pass onto the authorities in return for a reduced prison sentence.
Powell then passed on information regarding the locations of several weapons stashes throughout the Merseyside area. Powell gave the Police detailed descriptions of various vehicles used to transport weapons caches, even giving the exact locations of where these vehicles could be found. Overall, Powell gave the Police the details of 18 separate weapons caches along with a few stashes of drugs. In return, Powell’s sentence was slashed to eight years and he was let out after serving 18 months.
One underworld source told me: “Powell isn’t known as a Teflon-coated twat for nothing. I’m just amazed that such a stupid gobshite has this much good luck. Somebody’s being his guardian angel, that’s for sure.”
Another underworld source, an associate of Reynolds, alluded to machinations by Powell to secure his own pardon by nefarious means. “You wanna know how that fucker sprang himself out of jail? I’ll fucking tell you how he did it. The sneaky bastard got in touch with Reynolds’ IRA fellas and bought himself a shitload of weapons – pistols, shotguns, semi-automatics, you name it. He must have spent at least £100,000 buying up all these guns. But, sneaky bastard that he is, Powell and his pals on the outside were the ones setting up the stashes in the first place. From his prison cell, Powell would give directions on what and where was to be planted, his minions on the outside would carry the plant out, then Powell would go bowing and scraping to the authorities via his kindly solicitor.”
The cars in which the weapons were found were usually either acquired shortly before or stolen to order – except for the stolen cars, n
one of the legitimate owners could be traced. Another puzzling twist was that in every location where the weapons stashes were located, the premises were usually empty, unfurnished, unoccupied or disused. Often Police would walk into an empty flat or garage and find the only thing in there was a bag with the guns or drugs. Another puzzling characteristic was that nobody else was ever arrested or prosecuted for these stashes, for possession or for criminal conduct relating to their use.
Upon Powell’s release from prison, he is thought to have fled abroad. One underworld source told me: “There’s no way that Powell would ever show his face in Liverpool again. Once you’re known as a grass, you’re a dead man walking, you’re lower than a worm’s tit. There are plenty of people lining up to stick the knife into him, that’s for sure.” Other underworld sources say that fear of retribution from his Turkish partners was enough to make Powell disappear.
As for Alison Reynolds, her legal team filed two appeals against her conviction and sentence, claiming that she was set up to be the ‘face’ of the drug smuggling ring, drawing attention away from others who were equally culpable. Her legal team also questioned the validity of some of the evidence used against her in court. Both appeals were rejected, but her legal team insist that she will keep fighting to clear her name.
Her solicitor, Robert Yeoman, told me: “Alison was target number one for the law. They were determined to bring her down by any means necessary. She was a prized scalp for law enforcement. You only have to look at the way they mythologised her in the media afterwards like some sort of trophy. But the fact is that the evidence used against her in this particular case was of very dubious quality. It was very convenient for a lot of people for Alison to be locked away for a long time. We are determined to keep fighting to overturn this blatant miscarriage of justice. The law must work for everyone, and must be evenly, consistently and transparently applied to everyone – even those convicted of a crime.”