The new outbreak compelled Police Scotland, some broadsheet newspapers and some broadcasters to cautiously suggest to the nation the possible existence of an underworld feud between two rival groups. This was not news – it was the journalistic equivalent of reporting Third Lanark’s football results.
The police were even moved to announce the creation of a specialist unit to ‘dismantle’ the criminal networks of the Daniels and Lyons, including their money-laundering front businesses where millions of pounds of dirty cash are magicked into seemingly legitimate income and assets.
It is possible that the police were being sincere but, even allowing for the impediment of gangland omertà, they have already had many long years in which to act. It is therefore tempting to view their tough talk as a cynical example of policing by PR – just something designed to alleviate public concerns about middle-aged morons risking the lives of innocent children by taking pot-shots at each other outside primary schools.
And so it continues. Each of these acts of extreme violence spanning the first seven months of 2017 was typically cowardly and vile. When it does inevitably diminish, it will be because money talks. Wise heads on each side will prevail by pointing out the negative impact these atrocities have on their vast drug-dealing profits. But once peace returns, will it be permanent?
31
NUMBERS GAME
Fifteen years is a long time to be locked up. That, according to what Scotland’s judicial authorities told the public, was the weighty sentence imposed on William ‘Basil’ Burns for his well planned but poorly executed acid attack on me.
I was too busy to attend court, as tempting as it was to wave farewell to my hitman, and learned of the ‘extended sentence of 15 years’ from the official Twitter account of the Judicial Office for Scotland. Being familiar with sentencing opacity, I was wary. I studied a linked 500-word statement by Lord Matthews and found what I was looking for in the second last paragraph, which stated, ‘That sentence will be in two parts and will run from 30 July 2016. The first part, the custodial element, will be ten years imprisonment. The second part, or extension period, will be five years.’ OK, clearly not 15 years then. Still confused by the ambiguity, I asked the Crown Office, ‘Would Burns therefore serve a full ten-year prison term?’ Back came the explanation: ‘It is my understanding that he would be eligible to apply for parole (no guarantee he will get parole) before he has served the full ten years. When he is released he would then be monitored for a period of five years.’ The Crown official added that if I wanted to know any more, then I needed to fill out some forms issued by the Scottish Prison Service. These arrived several months later, after my second request for them. What better way to frustrate crime victims than with red tape?
I dug deeper. My research found that Burns will actually be eligible to apply for parole after serving just half his prison sentence. The rules used to be that it was two thirds. So with Burns’s sentence being backdated for time spent on remand, that means he could be set free as early as summer 2021 – just four years after being sent down by Lord Matthews and in stark contrast to the 15 years tweeted by a judicial PR flunkey.
The decision to routinely dupe the public over sentencing owes much to the disconnect between people’s expectation of lengthy prison terms for serious criminals and the collective touchy-feely ethos of liberal politicians, wet social workers and obedient prosecutors dancing to the politicians’ tunes. What is harder to understand is judges’ apparent willingness to go along with the mass exercise in deceit.
Burns must have been beaming with glee, although such good fortune was not entirely novel. I found a 2001 court report when Lord Penrose sentenced him for shooting a woman during an armed robbery. The judge said the crime was of such gravity that he considered giving Burns a life sentence. Instead, just like Lord Matthews, he gave him 15 years. Except, as we know, Burns was released early twice during that 15-year sentence and should have been locked up on the day he hurled acid in my face and set out to stab me.
In many countries, parole decisions are a transparent and routine part of the justice process, but in Scotland the public have no right to know how long a convict actually serves. Other than life sentences, which stipulate a minimum time behind bars, the numbers parroted by sheriffs and judges are illusory.
The power to free prisoners is in the gift of the Parole Board for Scotland, which is dominated by social workers, solicitors and others of that ilk. Volatile and violent people are routinely and prematurely released. In an era of increasing transparency, it is puzzling that casual misrepresentation, public endangerment and secrecy should be so readily accepted. Society seems to have a quaintly paternalistic trust that the board knows best. Even when these officials commit gross misjudgements, as they did by twice releasing Burns, they face no consequences due to politicians and the media being oddly incurious about explanations. Had Burns stuck me fatally with his knife, would parole officials been compelled to justify his early release? I assume not.
For Burns, it seemed that sentencing could not have come at a worse moment, as Britain was experiencing a spike in the number of high-profile attacks in which corrosive substances are used to maim, blind and disfigure. While such attacks may have their roots in so-called honour crimes, with women punished for disobeying cultural norms, it is evident that they have spread into the criminal underworld and, more worryingly still, the mainstream of school playgrounds, nightclubs and high streets. Hardly a day passes without news of yet another horror attack or a scarred victim stepping forward to publicly demand action from politicians and the justice system.
Over a period of 90 minutes during one weekend in July 2017, a spate of acid attacks in London pushed the issue to the forefront of the news and political agenda. Five fast-food delivery drivers – innocent workers out earning a modest wage – were struck in the faces with toxic substances in an alleged attempt to rob them. One suffered life-changing injuries. This sickening spree prompted a sea change with Conservative Home Secretary Amber Rudd suggesting that ‘life sentences’ be imposed on perpetrators, while Labour MP Stephen Timms led a debate in the House of Commons with demands that the sale of such substances should be strictly controlled and their public possession should be outlawed just like knives and guns.
Burns was the first high-profile acid attacker to be sentenced in the wake of this clamour. While criminal justice is a devolved matter for the Scottish government, the widespread UK media coverage brought extra attention to his sentencing. Stig Abell, a broadcaster and editor of the Times Literary Supplement, amusingly tweeted, ‘Man threw acid in journalist’s face; journalist knocked him down until cops came. They make them tough in Scotland.’
Lord Matthews could not allow the wall of political and media noise to influence his decision. Even so, Burns got off lightly with his ‘15 years’. The taste in my mouth was more bitter and longer lasting than that of the sulphuric acid.
I chose not to complete a ‘victim impact statement’, which allows victims to explain how a crime has affected them, because to do so was pointless. These were heralded as giving a voice to victims but, as they cannot influence a judge’s sentencing decision, they are virtually meaningless. It is unfortunate that MSPs regard such gesture politics as an achievement.
Lord Matthews made some welcome points in his speech to Burns, describing the evidence against him as ‘overwhelming’ and his testimony ‘an obvious fabrication from start to finish’. Speaking directly to Burns in the dock, the judge continued:
You went to his house in the morning, disguised as a postman, and threw acid at him with the plain intention of causing him severe damage. The evidence showed that you were also armed with a knife but thankfully you did not get the chance to use it.
To some extent you bit off more than you could chew. Mr Findlay did not take your attack lying down. He was able to overpower you and with the prompt assistance of neighbours you were detained there and then. Due to the intervention of those neighbours, Mr Find
lay’s injuries were not as bad as they might have been.
It is or should be well known that acid has the potential to cause catastrophic damage and it is no thanks to you that that was not the case here.
He then turned to the subject of Burns’s motive, surmising that ‘the only reason I can discern for your actions is that you objected to something that your victim wrote’, before adding, ‘The freedom of the press is an essential tool in the armoury of any democracy and attacks of this nature will not be tolerated.’ On balance, this perception was preferable for Burns, rather than the truth that he was a mercenary thug in the pay of organised crime, but I did not want mistruth about his motive taking hold.
Since my defiant tweet about a ‘fat hitman’ leaving his broken false teeth in my driveway, sent hours after the attack, I had remained mute. While live court proceedings prohibited me from saying anything meaningful, I was aware of nonsense rumours – including one suggesting Jamie Daniel had ordered the attack. I was glad also to nail these lies while also being free to question why the police and Crown had no apparent desire to discover who had hired Burns.
My phone began to ring with broadcast and newspaper journalists seeking my views. I was happy to oblige, although I was also cautious about being perceived as the type of ‘journalist’ whose job is to opine – the newsprint version of a droning old golf club bore. The journalism trade publication Press Gazette ran an article about the sentencing, which included the judge’s comment about Burns’s being driven to attack me by something I had written. In response, I said:
While journalists should welcome the points made by Lord Matthews about the importance of press freedom, speculation that Burns may have been motivated by something I wrote is wide of the mark. Following the attack, I quickly established that Burns was a paid hitman, hired by a very wealthy organised criminal who has been the subject of numerous stories by me. However, neither Police Scotland nor the Crown Office has shown any inclination to bring this man to justice.
Their apparent disinterest may stem from the fact I was not killed or seriously hurt and that the paymaster is now serving a prison sentence for another, unrelated matter.
However, it is imperative that a proper investigation takes place. A message should be sent to organised crime in the UK that attacks on journalists will not be tolerated. For the authorities to sit on their hands sets a very dangerous precedent.
I was under no illusion that my public tuppenceworth would have any effect on the police or Crown. As far as they were concerned, the conviction of Burns was job done. Who paid him? Who cares? I was easy to ignore. While my contribution to the debate was never likely to achieve anything tangible, at least it gave me some free therapy.
I was targeted because of my job, which is to go after powerful and wealthy people – be they gangsters, police officers, lawyers, judges or politicians – who think the rules don’t apply to them. Journalism has suffered a bad press in recent years, but some of its most shrill critics are cursed with bovine ignorance. Without robust, aggressive and determined journalists and a buoyant industry which refuses to be neutered by the state, we would live in a much darker place.
While acid attacks are an important issue, of greater importance still is the cancer of domestic abuse. My attack was a by-product of the terror campaign inflicted on Jane Clarke. The choice of acid as weapon was incidental. Her appalling experience shows that, despite years of political rhetoric, domestic violence victims can still be treated with disdain by a justice system which will never change while Scotland’s legal establishment is allowed to protect its vested interests. Jane has no faith in the police being able to protect her when Frankie ‘Donuts’ Donaldson is freed.
I take comfort that both Burns and Donaldson ended up behind bars. It amused me when the prison authorities kept them apart over concerns for their safety and Donaldson sought safe refuge in a wing for elderly prisoners. It felt like karma when he suffered a second blade attack, this time in the gym at Low Moss prison, less than three months into his sentence. Every day, I take even greater comfort from being able to recognise my face in the mirror, unlike other poor souls who have suffered devastating damage, physical and psychological, from acid attacks.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My acid attack was rooted in the domestic violence and abuse perpetrated for years by a dangerous criminal against his long-term partner and her family. A few weeks before justice finally caught up with Frankie Donaldson and he was jailed for domestic violence, a new Bill was introduced to the Scottish Parliament. It is likely to pass into law in 2018 or 2019 and is expected to create a specific criminal offence of ‘abusive behaviour’, including psychological abuse such as coercion and control.
The new law is welcome. But it is vital that abusers are no longer allowed to use the criminal justice system as a weapon against their victims, and that prosecutors and judges end the entrenched culture of delays in the legal process which causes so much additional and unnecessary suffering.
Anyone with experience of domestic abuse who requires support can call the free and confidential helpline which is open 24 hours every day: 0800 027 1234.
Also available by Russell Findlay
Caught in the Crossfire Scotland’s Deadliest Drugs War
Scotland’s deadliest gang war for a generation – the Daniel family versus the Lyons – was sparked by a cocaine theft from a house party which unleashed a decade of murderous violence. Devastation ensued . . . beatings, slashings, abductions and torture. Homes were firebombed while children slept; witnesses were forced into protection and families ripped apart. Michael Lyons, 21, was slaughtered with British Army guns in a triple shooting at a north Glasgow garage. Daniel enforcer Kevin ‘Gerbil’ Carroll, 29, had 13 shots pumped into him outside an Asda supermarket. The desecration of the grave of eight-year-old cancer victim Garry Lyons marked a sickening low.
Caught in the crossfire were brave parents in Milton, Glasgow, who opposed their community centre being used as a taxpayer-funded gang hut by the Lyons. Against the odds, they won their six-year battle which exposed a murky nexus between police officers, politicians and the underworld. This is the explosive story of how the Daniel–Lyons feud engulfed a community and spread from the mean streets into the corridors of power.
‘Without [Russell Findlay of] the Sunday Mail exposing what was going on in Chirnsyde, it would have disappeared from the public eye.’
Sandra White MSP
The Iceman
The Rise and Fall of a Crime Lord
(with Jim Wilson)
The elite police officers secretly launching Scotland’s biggest ever offensive against organised crime had only one target. His name was Jamie Stevenson but he was known as The Iceman, the biggest drugs trafficker the country has ever seen.
Suspected of a string of murders – including the gangland assassination of his best friend – Stevenson’s decade-long rise was built on ruthless ambition, strategic cunning and calculated, brutal violence. It left him at the head of one of Europe’s biggest smuggling operations pouring tons of drugs and guns onto the streets of Scotland
The Iceman tells the astonishing story of Stevenson’s rise and fall, offering a unique and explosive insight into Operation Folklore, the unprecedented four-year investigation that ended in his arrest. It lays bare the blood-soaked business of Scotland’s most powerful crime lord and, for the first time, exposes how Stevenson made – and laundered – his dirty millions.
‘Unflinching . . . punchily written’
The Herald
Burn injuries on the face and right eye of journalist Russell Findlay, days after being attacked with sulphuric acid on his own doorstep by a gangland hitman.
Sometimes raking bins is part of the job. Findlay looks for evidence to track down a runaway crook who had ripped off readers of the Sunday Mail.
In 1996 Findlay goes undercover inside the former Ravenscraig steelworks in Motherwell to investigate claims that rogue security guards helped g
angs of metal scavengers.
The only occasion that a photo of Findlay, then aged 21, appeared in a newspaper. An undercover sting exposed a crooked housing official selling tins of EU beef which were meant for the needy.
A police mugshot of career criminal William ‘Basil’ Burns, the hitman who came to Russell Findlay’s door while disguised as a postman and hurled acid into his face.
The alleged getaway driver in the acid hit, Alex Porter, whose DNA was found on the steak knife carried by Burns. (Spindrift Photo Agency)
Ross Sherlock, an ally of the Daniel organised crime gang, was shot outside a suburban primary school. William ‘Basil’ Burns was later acquitted of the non-fatal shooting.
A police officer outside the home of Findlay carefully bags the Royal Mail jacket and other items worn by Burns during the botched acid attack.
Frankie ‘Donuts’ Donaldson, a millionaire with extensive gangland connections, outside court after a hearing into his £1 million claim against ex-partner Jane Clarke. (Mirrorpix)
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