About the Author
Bernard OMahoney is the author of a number of true-crime books, including the bestselling Essex Boys, The Dream Solution and Wannabe in my Gang? He has also written of his experiences in the army and on a tour of duty in Northern Ireland in Soldier of the Queen and of his gradual transition from Nazi thug to Nazi opponent in Hateland.
BONDED BY BLOOD
MURDER AND INTRIGUE
IN THE ESSEX GANGLANDS
Bernard OMahoney
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Epub ISBN: 9781780570716
Version 1.0
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Copyright Bernard OMahoney, 2006
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted
First published in Great Britain in 2006 by
MAINSTREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY
(EDINBURGH) LTD
7 Albany Street
Edinburgh EH1 3UG
ISBN 978 1 84596 164 0 (from January 2007)
ISBN 1 84596 164 1
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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
I dedicate this book to my beautiful wife, Emma Elizabeth OMahoney, who died in my arms on 2 December 2004, just four months after we married, aged twenty-six.
I would like to thank the following people for helping me through the darkest days following my loss: Vinney, Siobhan, Glen, Ebony, Lauren, Adrian, Natalie and Karis, Debra, Michael, Carol, Finn, Lilly, Hughie, Kate, Leah, Molly, my mother Anne, Jacquelyn and Ann Lippett, Gavin and Sue, Andy Byrne, Miss South London, Toene Shadiya, Kassy McGuiness, Chop Lambert, Chemical Earl, Page 7 Fella Leo, Baron, Burdo, Good Game, Good Game Boss Eye, Bouldie, Mally, Marcus, Lee, Mark (duck) Green, Kevin Carvell, Darrel Edwards, Auntie Patricia and Uncle Paul, brother Jerry, Amy, Leanne, Tino, Ken Hassle, Liverpool Lenny, Corrine Payne, Peterborough Bobby, Stevie Dee, Brett, Martin (Whizz Kid) Moore, the Cowley family, Julie Ford, Wes and Zoe (Hes not with me, woman), Shane, Whizzer, Taffy, Little Tony, Rachie, Jim Dean senior, Jim junior, Mad Jack, Gary Jones, Emma Bailey and her inseparable other half, Erica Els, Tracie dCruz, Solicitor Hugh Cauthery and last but by no means least, Dr Wilson, for the time he gave up to be with me and the care he showed.
Until we meet again, Emmie xx
www.bernardomahoney.com
www.justiceforleebalkwell.com
Prologue
Today, I intend to put the events of November and December 1995 behind me. I have waited more than a decade for this day, this hour, this moment to arrive.
Teenager Leah Betts died in November 1995 after taking an Ecstasy pill that was supplied by my associates. The following month, three of those associates were murdered in cold blood. Those two terrible events have dominated my life ever since. They have dictated where I live and where I spend my time; divided my friends and torn my family apart.
Leahs father appeared on national television and claimed I was responsible for the death of his teenage daughter. His words hit me hard: very hard, in fact, because I was not given the right to reply to his allegation. The police and others suspected me of executing my three former friends: I feared not only reprisals but that I could end up serving a life sentence for crimes I did not commit.
With the advances in forensic science and the countless overhauls of the judicial system following a spate of miscarriages of justice in the 90s people may scoff at the thought of such a thing happening in this day and age. Unfortunately, it did happen; fortunately, it didnt happen to me. I was not the only suspect in Essex Polices misaligned sights for the murder of my three associates. Two other men, Mick Steele and Jack Whomes, became suspects after their one-time friend, Darren Nicholls, levelled his accusing finger in their direction. Nicholls had been arrested for importing cannabis and offered to give police the names of the killers in return for a reduced sentence for himself.
Ten years after Nichollss dubious evidence secured their convictions, Steeles and Whomess cases were referred back to the Court of Appeal. I, along with many others, thought justice would finally be done and they would be freed. After a five-day hearing, their appeals were dismissed. For them, the fight goes on; for me, its probably over.
That is why I am here today, down the lane where the executions took place. Its not the first time I have visited this ghastly place, but it will be my last. I want closure; I want to clear my mind, exorcise the faces of so many young, dead people that haunt me. The truth will be told one day, but not until the guilty and I have gone to our graves. I am standing on the spot where the three men met their deaths. I can visualise the Range Rover they arrived in making its way down the narrow, uneven, potholed track on the night of 6 December 1995. The snow was falling heavily and had bleached the surrounding fields.
In the driving seat was 26-year-old Craig Rolfe. Earlier that afternoon his partner, Diane Evans, had been busy wrapping Christmas presents when he returned home with their daughter, Georgie. The couple had spent about an hour and a half together before Rolfe announced that he wanted Diane to be ready by seven oclock because they were going out. Rolfe said he had booked a table for six at the Global Net Caf, a restaurant on South Street in Romford. They would be joined by two friends and their girlfriends. Rolfe then dropped Diane off at Lakeside shopping centre so that she could buy a new dress to wear that night. Diane was never to see him again.
Tony Tucker, 38, another of the would-be diners, sat in the front passenger seat of the Range Rover. After dropping off Diane earlier that evening, Rolfe had picked him up from his house. Tuckers partner, Anna Whitehead, recalled that her boyfriend was wearing jeans, a white vest, a North Sails sweater and Caterpillar boots. He was also carrying his Nokia mobile phone. Like Diane, Anna didnt think her partner would be away long because they were due to be in Romford, a 20-minute journey from their Basildon home, later that evening for their meal. Anna was never to see Tucker again.
It was surprising that Tucker and Rolfe had an appetite because earlier that afternoon they had enjoyed a meal at the TGI Fridays restaurant in Lakeside with friends Peter Cuthbert and Pat Tate.
Tate, 37, sat immediately behind Tucker as the Range Rover made its way down the track. Tate had started the day in a foul mood. He had rowed with his ex-girlfriend and the mother of his son, Sarah Saunders. She had asked him for a new car because a Volkswagen Golf Tate had given her a few weeks earlier was proving to be unreliable. On more than one occasion, Sarah and her young son, Jordan, had been forced to walk along busy roads after the vehicle had ground to a halt. Tate, on the other hand, was driving around in a Mercedes that he had acquired after using Sarahs details to get a bank loan. When Sarah finally lost her temper and pointed out this injustice to Tate, he went berserk. Tate, Tucker and Rolfe drove around to Sarahs mums and repossessed the Volkswagen, then Tate, in a blind rage, threw all of Sarahs possessions into the street. Concerned for her safety, Tucker and Rolfe had physically grabbed Tate and bundled him into their car. It was the last time Sarah was ever to see Tate alive.