Bonded by Blood (3 page)

Steele laid low for weeks, but meanwhile his mother fell ill and the police knew Steele would risk everything to ensure she was OK. They put a surveillance team in the hospital where Mrs Steele was being cared for. When Steele walked onto the ward, one of the officers approached him and asked him who he was.

‘I’m Jeff,’ Steele replied, ‘I’m trying to find my wife.’

For a moment, the policeman hesitated, but Steele looked so composed the officer thought he couldn’t possibly be the man they were looking for. ‘OK,’ the policeman said, ‘off you go, it’s not you we are looking for.’

‘I hope you catch him,’ Steele replied, before walking off towards the exit. Just as he was about to step outside, another officer shouted, ‘That’s Steele, you fucking idiots, grab him!’

At his trial, Steele faced ten charges of smuggling. He pleaded guilty to one – the one he had been arrested for – and not guilty to the other nine. Those that had been accused of assisting Steele with the drug importation said they thought he was smuggling in tobacco. They were all acquitted. As the case unfolded, the jury were shown surveillance pictures which Customs claimed showed Steele and others unloading drugs. Steele pointed out that Customs were wrong. The pictures couldn’t have been taken where or when Customs said they had been. In fact, it looked as if several of the pictures had been taken at a later date than Customs had claimed. The evidence against Steele began to crumble, and eventually the prosecution case collapsed.

Steele was cleared of nine charges, but he still had to be sentenced for the one to which he had pleaded guilty. The judge sentenced him to nine years’ imprisonment and ordered that the courts seize £120,000 of his money, half of his former marital home, £15,000 from his mother’s home, his 33-foot motor cruiser, his £38,000 aircraft and his Toyota Land Cruiser. To Steele, it may have seemed like a harsh sentence: little did he know his association with drug smuggling was going to cost him even more in the future.

The man who was going to use his knowledge of drug smuggling against him was using Steele from the day he met him. Darren Nicholls, boosted by his ‘friendship’ with Steele, bragged to the Whomes brothers about the clout he had in the prison. He told them if they wanted anything, whether it be alcohol, drugs or bodybuilding steroids, he was the man to see. Nicholls was not the type of person the Whomes brothers wished to be associated with. Jack was vehemently against the use of drugs. Some considered him an oddball because he did not drink or smoke, but it was just the way he was. Despite this, the Whomes brothers did not ignore Nicholls because after a few days they noticed he was constantly on the phone to his wife, crying about not being able to cope with prison life. They realised his boasts about being a big drug dealer in prison were a mask for the fact he was weak and unable to do his time. In short, they felt sorry for him.

Mick Steele’s cell was opposite the Whomes brothers’ and inevitably they would exchange pleasantries. After a short period of time, Steele learned that Jack, like him, was fascinated by anything mechanical and the pair soon became good friends. John, Jack, Steele and Nicholls began to spend more time together. Steele would often talk about a good friend of his named Pat Tate, whom he had met at Swaleside prison on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent earlier in his sentence. Tate’s then girlfriend, Sarah Saunders, used to visit him there and on one occasion recognised a fellow visitor, Jackie Street, in the waiting room. Jackie used to own Longwood riding stables in Basildon where Sarah had once kept her horse. The two got chatting and both were surprised to find their partners, Tate and Steele, had become friends in the prison. After that first meeting, Sarah and Jackie would meet up before each visit and spend an hour or so outside the prison talking to each other. The two couples soon became friends. Eventually, Tate and Steele were moved to HMP Blantyre House, an old country home in Goudhurst, Kent. They shared a cell, and Steele had taught Tate how to use computers.

Steele told the Whomes brothers and Nicholls that Tate had been going through a difficult time and Steele had written to him urging him to apply for a transfer to Hollesley Bay. Tate, he said, had now done this and had been accepted, so he would be joining him there soon.

When Tate arrived, Steele introduced him to John, Jack and Nicholls, and they all began to socialise together. Tate worked as the prison gym orderly and he would supply inmates not only with steroids but also heroin, crack cocaine, speed and cannabis. Nicholls, an unfit, podgy man, was encouraged by Tate to work out and soon he had acquired a steroid-enhanced muscle-bound frame. This new look, combined with the stature of associating with Tate and Steele, gave Nicholls confidence and he began to talk and act like some sort of gangster. Nicholls and Tate became particularly close, training at the gym together and spending time in each other’s cells. Tate told Nicholls that he had been in trouble for as long as he could remember. At the age of 12, Tate said, he had found a wallet with more than £300 in it on the roof of a parked car. It turned out that the money was intended for a Christmas party being held by the local police. Tate spent the money on a leather coat, a record player and taxis and restaurants with his friends during trips to Cambridge.

When the police caught up with Tate, he was charged with theft and sent to an approved school. Tate confided in Nicholls that his time there and his childhood in general had been pretty awful. He felt aggrieved about the way he had been treated, and so vowed to dedicate the rest of his life to waging war on the law-abiding members of society.

In December 1988, Tate had robbed a Happy Eater restaurant in Basildon. He had arrived there off his face after a weekend of non-stop clubbing with Sarah Saunders. After the couple had eaten, Tate got into a dispute with the staff about his bill. To compensate himself, he punched the cashier and snatched £800 from the till. When he was arrested, Tate was found to be in possession of small amounts of cocaine, cannabis and speed which he said were for his personal use.

On 29 December 1988, Billericay magistrates decided that Tate would see in the New Year within the confines of Chelmsford prison. Tate, however, had made other plans. He jumped over the side of the dock and made for the door. Six police officers joined the jailer and jumped onto his back, but he broke free and ran off. One WPC received a black eye and another officer was kicked in the face, as they tried to block Tate’s escape. He ploughed his way out of the court to an awaiting motorcycle. Roadblocks, which were immediately set up, failed to trap him. His escape was so speedy, the police couldn’t say what type of motorcycle it was, or whether he was alone or had travelled as a passenger.

Several days later, Tate surfaced in Spain. He remained there for a year but made the mistake of crossing over into Gibraltar, where he was arrested by the British authorities and later sent to prison.

Since Hollesley Bay was an open prison, there was no shortage of contraband. Alcohol and drugs, even sex with visiting females, were readily available. Steele, Tate, Nicholls and the Whomes brothers would often have alcohol and Chinese takeaways smuggled in to them and sit up late into the night eating, drinking and having a laugh.

One afternoon, Tate and John Whomes were walking back to the unit after meeting John’s brother, Terry, who had dropped off new T-shirts and a couple of bottles of whisky. John had put on the T-shirts and hidden the whisky in his jacket pockets. Tate and John had then given Terry an order for Chinese food, which he was going to deliver later that evening when it got dark. As Tate and John neared the unit, a prison officer came out and asked, ‘What have you got on you?’

‘We haven’t got anything,’ Tate and John replied.

The officer said that he had watched them meet somebody, and therefore if they did not come clean, he was going to search them. John took his prison sweater off, then the T-shirts his brother had given to him. ‘Here,’ he said, throwing them at the officer to catch. ‘That’s all I was given – T-shirts, which we are allowed to have anyway.’

The officer said that without prior permission nothing was allowed to be handed in, therefore John would be charged. He told Tate and John to follow him before turning and marching off towards the unit.

‘You can’t nick John for those T-shirts,’ Tate said.

‘I can, and I’m going to,’ replied the officer.

‘You don’t understand. I’m telling you that you can’t and won’t nick John for those T-shirts, or I will fucking kill you.’

The officer did not reply, he just continued walking. When John entered the unit, he took his jacket off and gave it and the whisky to another inmate. John and Tate were then called into the office, where Tate began to tell the senior officer what he could and couldn’t do regarding John and the T-shirts. ‘He’s just a young boy,’ he said. ‘If you nick him for that, it will increase tension on the unit and there will be trouble. Serious fucking trouble.’

The senior officer said that the matter would be considered and they would be informed of any decision in due course. Tate and John left the office and went up to their rooms. Later that night, Terry arrived outside the rear of Cosford Unit with the Chinese meal. Jack leapt over the balcony, ran over to Terry, collected the meal and made his way back to John, Tate, Steele and Nicholls, who were already busy consuming the smuggled bottles of whisky.

The next morning, John was working at the prison stables when two officers arrived and told him that he was being taken to the punishment block. A few minutes after being placed in a cell, John heard shouting and realised Tate was also going to be put in a cell. Unlike John, six officers were escorting Tate because he was being uncooperative, calling them wankers and arseholes. Tate and John spent the night in the punishment block but were able to talk when let out of their cells for meals and showers.

Tate told John that nothing would happen, that they would only be reprimanded. But the following morning they were told they were being sent to HMP Camp Hill on the Isle of Wight. Tate told John that he was going to feign a back injury so they would diagnose him as unfit to travel. He lay on the cell floor, writhed about and screamed in agony while clutching his back. John alerted the prison officers and they called for the prison gym orderly, who was trained in first aid. The orderly entered Tate’s cell and, after five minutes, emerged saying that Tate was unfit to travel to Camp Hill. The only prison Tate could be sent to was one with a prison hospital. HMP Highpoint, which they were told was just as relaxed as Hollesley Bay, had a hospital and was just down the road in Newmarket. The following morning Tate and John were handcuffed and taken from Hollesley Bay in a van.

Later, Tate told John that the gym orderly who had been to assess his ‘injured’ back was a member of staff he had in his pocket. ‘Some of the screws I worked with in the gym let me do anything I wanted,’ Tate said. ‘When the officer came in the cell, I told him I needed him to say I had a bad back. The officer just laughed and said no problem.’

On the way to Highpoint prison, the van transporting Tate and John broke down. A piece of debris on the carriageway caught the brake pipes and tore them off. The driver was forced to pull over and inform the police of the situation. Although Tate and John were handcuffed together, while they waited for assistance the officers agreed to take the cuffs off as it was dangerous for them to sit manacled together in the van on the side of a busy main road. The only safe place to wait was on a grass bank on the other side of the carriageway. Tate and John scrambled to the top and sat in the sunshine eating fruit Tate had brought with him in a bag. When a police car arrived, the officers sat and talked with Tate and John while they waited for a replacement van. Tate kept asking one of the prison officers if he could read his confidential prison file because he was concerned his latest outburst would affect his chances of parole. At first, the officer was reluctant to do so, but then one of the police officers said, ‘Go on, let him, he seems an OK lad.’

The file was handed over and Tate spent the rest of his time waiting reading it. When the replacement van arrived, everybody helped transfer Tate’s and John’s possessions from one vehicle to the other. Tate had ten boxes, John had one. When they arrived at Highpoint prison, Tate was given a trolley on which to put his boxes. He looked at the officer who had brought it to him, said he was unable to bend because of his bad back and walked off towards the reception with John. The officer loaded Tate and John’s boxes onto the trolley and pulled it along himself. When they entered the reception area, the officers present looked from John and Tate to the officer transporting their stuff as if to say, ‘Who the hell are these two guys?’ They were then told all of the boxes would have to be searched before they would be allowed into the prison. Tate replied that that wouldn’t be possible.

‘What do you mean that won’t be possible?’ the officer asked.

‘If you leave our possessions alone, I won’t play up,’ Tate said. ‘If you touch our possessions, I will.’

The officer looked at Tate then addressed his colleague, the one who had pulled the trolley into reception. ‘Take these two and that trolley to unit four.’

Tate and John walked out of reception following the officer pulling the trolley. On the unit, John and Tate were locked up together in the same cell. As soon as they were alone, Tate emptied one of his boxes onto the bed. It appeared to contain cartons of All-Bran, Alpen and other breakfast cereals. Tate cut along the side of one of the boxes and tipped out a handful of muesli. He then shook the carton and a large bar of cannabis resin fell out. Tate opened up several other cartons, which contained heroin, cocaine and steroids; soon there was a large pile of illegal drugs heaped up on the bed. Tate then cut the cannabis into eighths and quarters. The following morning, his ‘shop’ opened. In no time at all, the prison was flooded with drugs.