Leaf Fielding - To Live Outside the Law. Caught by Operation Julie, Britains Biggest Drugs Bust

Twenty-nine years on from his release from prison, Leaf Fielding has been a teacher in Spain and a philanthropist, setting up a home for orphans in Malawi. He now sells organic produce in the south of France where he lives.

A memoir

Leaf Fielding

October Song by Robin Williamson
1967 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. (BMI)
All rights administered by Warner/Chappell North America Ltd
All rights reserved

A complete catalogue record for this book can be obtained from the British Library on request

The right of Leaf Fielding to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

Copyright 2011 Leaf Fielding

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

First published in 2011 by Serpents Tail,
an imprint of Profile Books Ltd
3A Exmouth House Pine Street
London EC1R 0JH
website: www.serpentstail.com

ISBN 978 1 84668 796 9
eISBN 978 1 84765 761 9

Designed and typeset by sue@lambledesign.demon.co.uk
Printed and bound in Britain by Clays, Bungay, Suffolk

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The paper this book is printed on is certified by the
1996 Forest Stewardship Council A.C. (FSC).
It is ancient-forest friendly. The printer holds FSC
chain of custody SGS-COC-2061

I dedicate this book to Sue,
my fiercest critic
and principal supporter

Anybody who sets out to turn the world upside down has no right to complain if he gets caught in its gears.

Frederik Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth, The Space Merchants

I WOKE WITH A START. The light of a torch lanced the darkness and settled on my face. I raised my hand to shield my eyes and was pinned to the bed by an octopus, hands everywhere.

Got him! a voice yelled triumphantly.

Give us some fucking light! Lets have a look at what weve caught.

The light came on. Through the spread fingers over my face, I could see I was being held down by several men.

What are you doing? This was my worst nightmare come true. I tried to turn my head to see what was happening to Mary, but my hair was gripped tightly and I couldnt move an inch. Let go! I yelled.

Shut up, cunt, someone hissed in my ear. Right then, lads. Lets be having him.

They hauled me from the bed and stood me on my feet. Only two were holding me now. The other three stood in front of me, bristling. One of them had drawn a gun. Mary was hiding below the duvet. A grim-looking woman stood at her side of the bed. The stink of sweat and adrenalin hung heavy in the air. The guy on the left, a big unshaven bruiser in a red sweater and jeans, stared hard at me. Triumph and loathing struggled for the upper hand in his expression. Van Goghs Sunflowers peeked incongruously over his shoulder. Without taking his eyes from mine, red sweater barked, Get him his fucking pants and take him below!

My arms were released so I could take the Y-fronts that were thrust at me. When Id put them on, I was grabbed and frogmarched out of the room and down the stairs.

We were in Mid-Wales, spending the weekend with our friends, Russ and Jan. A dozen men in sweaters and jeans were engaged in ransacking their house. Several uniformed police stood around watching. A scruffy longhair with a gun guarded the door. I was pushed in front of an older man in a sheepskin coat who stood apart. He cautioned me and asked if I had anything to say.

I stood, fur-tongued and thick-headed. It was dark outside. I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Just after five. Wed gone to bed three hours before, full of curry and wine. My head was pounding. I felt as though I might throw up at any moment. Suddenly I desperately needed a shit.

Ive got to go to the toilet.

All right. The boss turned to my escort. Watch him! Dont let him close the door. Dont take your eyes off him for one moment.

I lingered on the pan, trying to get my broken brain to work. Three days ago Id laid a hundred and twelve thousand hits of LSD on Russ. He was supposed to be passing it straight on. Had he moved it all? Were we stuffed or might we have a chance to get clear?

Hurry up! Theres another one here needs the crapper.

I washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up. Please let this be a nightmare, I implored the god of events. But it wasnt a dream, it had the stink of reality. As I left the toilet, Russ stumbled in. He looked as bad as I felt. I was handed my clothes and glasses and sent to join Mary, who was dressed, sitting on the sofa and looking at the floor.

Im so sorry, honey, I said, pulling on my trousers.

Shut up! my guard shouted. No talking.

Marys long blonde hair was falling over her face, hiding her expression. I sat down and took her hand. Soon we were joined by Russ and Jan. Two uniformed police were detailed to watch us.

Whats going on, Megan? Jan asked the policewoman.

I cant say, Jan, Megan replied, in a strong Welsh accent. Sorry love, but were under instructions. Youre not allowed to talk.

The searchers were swarming all over the house, emptying drawers and cupboards, dismantling anything that came apart. The absence of speech was eerie. Everything was being put into tagged plastic bags. My heart sank as I watched them methodically gut Russs home.

What are you doing? Jan shouted across to the man in the sheepskin coat. She was close to hysteria. You cant treat us like this! Im expecting a baby

While Megan and the constable were trying to calm Jan down, I whispered to Russ.

You clean?

He nodded.

Good. Say nothing. Well be fine.

Hey! the armed hippie on the door screamed at our guards. Stop those buggers talking. Keep them quiet or youll be left out in the rain! Got it?

Yessir, muttered the local bobby.

I sat on the sofa, my arm around Marys shoulder, feeling worse by the minute. Attempting to ward off the sense of hopelessness that was washing over me was like trying to stop the tide. As the plain-clothes men systematically took apart Russ and Jans home, I felt my life disintegrating. The police ignored us completely. Weve got you, their silence shouted. Now were just collecting the evidence.

Jan started to cry. Megan began weeping too. The policewomans tears completely undermined me; I wanted to join in.

Fielding!

I looked up at the sound of my name. Two coppers led me to the kitchen. Red sweater put a handcuff on my left wrist and tightened it with a series of clicks. He attached the other end to his right hand.

Come on. Lets go, he said, tugging at the cuffs. Metal handcuffs cutting at the wrist bone; thats the feel of being a prisoner.

Whats going on? I asked red sweater as we drove south towards Carmarthen. It was as if I hadnt spoken. I tried again. Where are we heading?

Neither he nor the driver would reply to my questions. I gave up and looked out the window at the early signs of the spring a spring I suddenly realised I was going to miss. The thought stung like acid thrown in my face. My eyes were smarting, but I didnt want them to see me cry.

In silence we crossed the Severn Bridge and headed east down the M4. I looked sightlessly out of the window while a crowd of questions assailed my mind. How long would they hold Mary for? What could I possibly say the next time I saw her? When would that be? Then I began worrying about how Russ was going to cope with the questioning. And how would I manage? Why had I been taken off alone? Had they got any of the others? I clung to the hope that they hadnt.