On the chosen night, I visited a certain nightclub. I knew I’d be filmed on the security cameras going in. After a while I left by the fire exit, drove round to this guy’s, shot him before he shot me, and went back to the club. At the end of the night I left by the front entrance.
Eight the next morning, the police came round and arrested me (probably the shortest murder inquiry in British history). It was common knowledge what the guy had been saying. The police have one of the biggest grapevines in the world, next to the underworld’s. There was no evidence against me. It was all down to whether I grassed myself up or not. Well, that was a big ‘not’ in my book. And because I said ‘no comment’ to everything, they charged me. I did some time on remand. I didn’t tell them what proof I had.
When I went to court I just produced the video from the club which showed the date and time and me entering and leaving, and the witnesses that saw me in there.
No doubt the judge didn’t object to witnesses appearing midway through the trial like in Perry Mason movies. No doubt nobody asked why the dodgy one’s defence team were setting up television monitors for the judge and jurors pre-trial when no video evidence had been disclosed. No doubt the judge allowed the case to continue despite the fact the prosecution would have had difficulty giving their opening address and presenting their case to the jury because, according to Dave, they had no evidence.
Against all the odds, our hero was tried and found not guilty, but it didn’t end there. Courtney says:
When I came out there were loads of reporters there waiting for me. I was quite high profile and fair game for the press. The reporters all crowded ’round and asked me if I did it. I couldn’t resist.
‘Yeah, ’course I done it,’ I said. That little admittance was a bit of a bombshell, to say the least. Talk about hold the front page. They had a fucking field day with that one. I was even more high profile now.
What sort of deranged social misfit would confess to a murder which never took place is a question for the psychiatrists, I’m afraid. I certainly cannot answer it. I do know that the murder did not take place and I do know David Courtney has never murdered anybody, never been charged with murder, never stood trial for murder and never been found not guilty of murder. Whatever evidence is produced to disprove Courtney’s disturbing claims will be rubbished by him as he has probably convinced himself that he is a serious criminal by now. But I know the surest way to make a monkey of a man is to quote him.
Courtney says in his book that around the time of his acquittal for murder he got ‘into the acting game’ as an extra in TV and films. ‘I was in Chicago Joe and the Showgirl, Bullseye!, Hamlet, Henry V, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, The Krays and Batman,’ he explains.
The TV work Courtney talked about was when he had appeared in the series The Paradise Club which ran from 19 September 1989 to 21 November 1989 and then a second series from 25 September 1990 until 27 November 1990. Henry V was screened in 1989, Hamlet in 1990, Chicago Joe and the Showgirl in 1990, The Krays in 1990, Bullseye! in 1991 and Robin Hood in 1991. Naturally, the programmes and films had to be made before they could be screened on these dates and so Courtney must have been at large in the early part of 1988 and up until the end of 1990.
Despite Courtney’s unbelievable claim that the police solved the murder within hours, Courtney would still have had to spend the best part of a year on remand awaiting trial. If he got ‘into the acting game’ after his acquittal, as he claims, that meant he would have stood trial in 1987 or 1988 and the murder would have happened in 1986 or 1987.
The dodgy one will undoubtedly have an explanation for his young naive wannabe followers which will help his murder story fit in somewhere between these dates, but even that will not survive scrutiny when his other activities are considered.
Courtney states that his son was born in December 1982 and then goes on to describe his ‘activities’ in detail up until the time he says he married in 1984.
Following his marriage, he claims he worked as a doorman at The Queens, The Yacht Club, Tattershall Castle, Dexter’s, The Vibe Rooms, The Hippodrome, Equinox, Maxims, Heaven, Limelight, The Astoria, Stringfellows, The Gass Club, The Park in Kensington and EC1 in Farringdon. Courtney and his wife had two other children together, one born around 1986 and the other around 1987. Courtney says that he continued to work as a doorman and then from March 1988 until Tuesday, 22 August 1989, was running a club in south London called The Arches. Add his film career on to the back of his nightclub security empire and his story of murder becomes totally ludicrous, as he was by his own admission otherwise engaged from 1982 until at least 1990.
Courtney’s book was serialised by a national newspaper and received rave reviews from the critics. One such critic named Craig Brown, working for the Mail on Sunday, nominated it as their book of the week and described it as:
An extraordinary read, scary, eye-poppingly horrible, and yet funny at the same time. Dave is as hard on himself as on anyone else (well . . . most of the time, anyway) and you do get to see a savagely honest self-portrait. But it’s a terrific read and you’ll not regret buying this one. And if you like it, Dave’s ‘sequel’ comes out this autumn!
Review after review heaped praise on Courtney and the book became a bestseller. It is a pity none of the numerous investigative reporters in the media bothered to check out his ‘savagely honest’ tales of mayhem and murder. I thought that the Metropolitan Police, who had set up a murder review group to look at unsolved murders, would question him about his murder confession in the book but even they didn’t trouble him. Then again, they had access to his criminal record and would have known it was all bullshit. Courtney claims in his book that he committed another murder, this time in Holland. To ensure nobody doubted him, Dave named his victim, a man called Blondie, who had a friend called Mr Tan. Fortunately our underworld hero wasn’t apprehended by the authorities and the murder was never reported. What a guy!
Courtney became so popular, a fan club was set up for him. For £20 his fans are given a signed photo and a monthly newsletter, plus four times a year their names are put into a hat and the lucky winner is promised ‘a night out with Dave’. Courtney also tours the country doing ‘an audience with Dave Courtney’ shows in clubs and theatres. He was invited to speak to graduates at Oxford University and appears on countless radio and television programmes bragging about his underworld muscle and murderous deeds.
On various sites on the Internet, his fans are invited to hire Dave to attend their parties and open supermarkets, or to purchase Dave Courtney merchandise. On offer are:
A superb figurine of Dave Courtney standing 10 inches high. This is a must-have for any DC aficionado and we’ve seen them going for £120 in auctions. It is available in two different materials: Welsh Coal, mined at Tower Colliery (the last deep mine in Wales). Welsh Slate (over 500 million years old), beautifully highlighted in copper. £39.99 + £5.50 carriage (insured) £44.99 + £5.99 carriage (insured).
A life-size cast of Dave’s fist, with Dave’s trademark knuckleduster and bejewelled ring is the product of a live casting. It’s a must-have for every fan. Mounted on a plinth and with an engraved plate, it will be the centre of attention on your mantelpiece. £39.99 + £5.50 carriage (insured).
A full-scale bejewelled replica of Dave’s trademark knuckleduster is a must-have for every fan. Mounted on a plinth and with an engraved plate, it will sit very proudly on your desk. (Not to be used as an offensive weapon.) £24.99 + £5.50 carriage (insured).
A presentation set consisting of a 10cl bottle of superb brandy liqueur and a specially engraved miniature brandy glass in a sumptuous black satin lined box. Of course, we don’t expect you to actually drink the brandy, because this is a one off limited edition presentation set that we expect to grow in value once all the sets are sold. But, if you DO decide to drink it, then you are in for a superb drinking experience.
Due to the amount of e-mails we have received requesting a Dave Courtney Clock, we are proud to lau
nch ‘The Dave Courtney Knuckle Duster Wall/Mantle Clock’. Using the very latest Laser Technology, we produced this clock from 2mm stainless steel (brass will follow soon). It measures 6’ x 10’ and currently comes in 3 finished effects: Antique Pewter, Polished Aluminium and Matt Black. Each one comes embellished with 15 of the finest Austrian Crystals and the highest quality German Quartz Movement and is backed by a 12 month guarantee, all for only £25.00. It has a wall fixing as standard but a stand is available for £1.50 which converts it to a mantle clock.
Dave Courtney lighters, which are described as standard disposable lighters transformed from a lump of tacky coloured plastic into a stylish fashion statement. There are also key rings. Well, not quite ‘just’ key rings. Both carry Dave’s knuckleduster logo and signature in gold. One is on leather and the other’s a bottle opener.
One can only imagine how jealous Gaffer and the other wannabe underworld kings must feel as they look on at the master of bullshit in awe. Periodically, they surface to try and snatch some limelight but inevitably they soon fade back into oblivion.
During the Iraq conflict Gaffer appeared in the Basildon Evening Echo newspaper claiming Prime Minister Tony Blair had telephoned him to thank him for his support after he had written to the PM backing his stance on the need for war. Gaffer said, ‘The voice said, “Is that John Rollinson?” And I said, “I don’t know, mate, you rang me.” When he started speaking I knew who it was.’
Gaffer refused to discuss the confidential conversation he had with Mr Blair but he did say he mentioned his criminal history later on in their conversation. He said: ‘I told him to buy my book, and once he reads that, he won’t ring again.’ I cannot say whether or not Gaffer is telling the truth about this story, although I am sure there will be one or two in Essex who will think it was an attempt to get his book some much-needed publicity.
However, I am confident that Mr Blair will not be buying Gaffer’s book and he will not be ringing him again, regardless. It is a missed opportunity for the PM because in Gaffer, Mr Blair has a true admirer. Gaffer told the reporter that, ‘Tony Blair is a man of England and has stood by his beliefs and I admire him for that. He does stand to lose his job, but I think he will win the next election. He has the support of the underworld.’
It would undoubtedly be an interesting partnership, the king of spin united with the masters of bullshit. One suspects it’s a marriage that will never take place.
15
THE RIDE BREAKS DOWN AND THE JESTER IS UNMASKED
Almost 15 years after the brutal murder of a private investigator named Daniel Morgan, a chain of events was set in motion that was to expose Dave Courtney as a registered police informant, the very thing he himself has repeatedly said he despises. In 1987 Morgan was found slumped in a south London pub car park with an axe embedded in his skull. Not only was £1,000 left in the dead man’s pocket, but sticking plaster had been wound around the axe handle to ensure no fingerprints were left behind.
Equally intriguing were the startling allegations made in the aftermath of his brutal murder. It was claimed that Morgan had been about to expose police wrongdoing or corruption and that officers may have been involved in his killing. No evidence came to light to support these claims. Morgan had run a company called Southern Investigations; his partner, Jonathon Rees, was charged with his murder, but the case against him was dropped by the Director of Public Prosecutions because of lack of evidence. Despite the collapse of the case, the police remained determined to solve the murder, not least because it had cast a shadow over their integrity.
In 1987, around the same time as Daniel Morgan had been murdered, Dave Courtney says that he was approached by a detective constable named Austin Warnes, who told him that he was a corrupt officer and was prepared to help Courtney if needed. Dodgy Dave claims that Warnes was ‘a bit of a villain groupie who loved to hang about with the criminal fraternity’.
I was living in East Dulwich at this time and I had an interest in a number of nightclubs in the Old Kent Road, Peckham, Woolwich, Abbey Wood and the West End. Not long after I first met Warnes he saw me at a nightclub.
On that same night, funnily enough, there was a geezer there called Tony Thompson, who was working on a book called Gangland Britain. Anyway, Thompson was stood next to me when Warnes approached me, said he’d heard about me, and made it clear that he was a bent copper and that he had information that some of my friends were being looked at.
Courtney says he decided to use DC Warnes to obtain information about police activity concerning himself and his associates, but in order to do so he had to become what he now calls a fake informant. Being a fake was nothing new for Courtney but being an informant brought him closer to DC Warnes and the two shared a fairly active social life together. These were certainly not nights out dancing at the policeman’s ball. The unlikely duo would go to fetish clubs, snort cocaine together and visit sordid private sex parties hosted by perverted sexual deviants for the benefit of other perverted sexual deviants. Wife swapping, sadomasochism, bondage and gay sex were all put on offer for the fake police informant and his bent police handler.
Courtney’s story about not being a real informant began to lack credibility when he alleged that not only DC Warnes but police officers nationwide were involved in fake informant scams. Dodgy Dave claimed that police officers were filling in informant contact sheets with false information, presenting them to their superiors and then getting their fake informant to pick up ‘20, 30 or 40 grand in cash’ as a reward for information that had simply been made up.
According to Courtney, fake informants are people who have registered as police informants but they do not ever tell the police anything that will get anybody into trouble.
All the fake informant does is milk the police for information, escape prosecution for motoring offences, avoid paying parking fines, give false information about non-existent criminals and collect hundreds or thousands of pounds in rewards from the police. I have always known why lottery winners choose not to be identified and if Courtney is to be believed, I now know why police informants ask to remain anonymous also.
This kind of get-rich-quick, no-questions-asked scheme may happen in Dave’s mind, but it cannot happen in the real world. The police usually recruit informants from those under investigation or facing prosecution. Police tell would-be informants that they can make life easier for them if they would be prepared to make life easier for the police and help with their enquiries. If people agree to give information to the police, that information has to be tested before any other information gleaned from them is used. If the information proves to be genuine and arrests are made, then the officer who has the relationship with the informant will go back to him or her for more. The information has to be of good quality and concern crimes of a more serious nature. The police neither have the resources nor the will to meet informants who are only prepared to tell them that Billy Smith drops litter and Mary Evans swears in public. If informants deliver regular, reliable, good-quality information, their handlers will put them forward to their superiors to become registered police informants. The informant, handler and a senior officer then have to meet and the pros and cons of becoming a registered police informant are explained to the informant. If everybody is happy, the informant signs a registered informant agreement and is given a pseudonym to use for whenever he or she contacts the handler.
This is done so people do not overhear the informant giving his or her name during telephone conversations or see the informant’s name on contact sheets which must be completed every time the police handler meets the registered informant. Dave Courtney was given the pseudonym ‘Tommy Mack’.
When an informant gives information which results in an arrest he or she is usually paid a few hundred pounds, not 20, 30 or 40 grand. There have been rare cases when an informant has been paid thousands of pounds, but these instances are very few and far between.
In order to physically collect the reward, the informant pick
s one of several high-street banks offered by the police and is told to go in and ask for the chief cashier. He or she then gives the chief cashier a prearranged name and is paid, over the counter, in cash. For Dave Courtney to suggest that the police have no control over the money paid to informants is beyond belief.
In 1999, the police anti-corruption unit CIB3 launched Operation Nigeria, which was an investigation set up to target the murdered private investigator Daniel Morgan’s former associates. With the backing of the Metropolitan Police’s then commissioner, Sir (now Lord) Paul Condon, warrants were obtained for the planting of listening devices in the offices of Morgan’s private investigations agency in Thornton Heath, south-west London. Operation Nigeria’s aim was two-fold: to pursue the unsolved murder of Morgan and to gather evidence about allegations that his investigations agency was involved with corrupt police officers and former detectives who had allegedly supplied confidential information and assisted with ‘other favours’.
One of CIB3’s principal targets was Jonathon Rees, who had continued to run the investigations agency after the murder charge against him had been dropped.
When the police planted the listening devices in the offices they were warned not to leave any sign whatsoever that anyone had been inside the premises, let alone planted a bug. ‘They are alert, cunning and devious individuals who have current knowledge of investigative methods and techniques which may be used against them,’ said an internal police report. ‘Such is their level of access to individuals within the police, through professional and social contacts, that the threat of compromise to any conventional investigation against them is constant and very real.’
Almost immediately, the various bugging devices began to reap rewards for the police. Visitors to the premises had asked Rees to obtain blank police charge sheets, he had agreed to pervert the course of justice over a theft, and he was waiting for police contacts to give him information about the desecration of the street memorial to the murdered black teenager, Stephen Lawrence. One police progress report stated:
Wannabe in My Gang? Page 25