Bonded by Blood (32 page)

After leaving the train, I am still thinking about my bloody past when I approach the Appeal Court. I don’t notice the groups of TV, radio and newspaper journalists gathered near the entrance, but as soon as they see me I am surrounded. Microphones and cameras are shoved in my face and a stream of questions is directed at me. ‘Do you believe Mick Steele and Jack Whomes are innocent?’ ‘If they didn’t commit the murders, who do you think did?’ I answer as best as I can while still walking.

Moments later, I enter the confines of the court. Because filming and recording is prohibited in court buildings, the media scrum has to remain outside. When I meet the Whomes family, they tell me that they have been allowed to enter court via a back door to avoid the press attention. I have to laugh: John has been staging various protests for years in the hope of attracting media interest in his brother’s plight; today, he is doing his best to avoid them because he doesn’t want to run the risk of saying or doing anything that may be misinterpreted and create bad publicity for his brother.

The wooden benches of courtroom number six, where the case is going to be heard, soon fill up with family members, journalists and members of the public who have over the years become fascinated with the Essex Boys murder case. At 10.30 a.m. precisely, the three appeal judges, Lord Justice Maurice Kay, Mr Justice Openshaw and Sir Charles Mantell, enter the court and take their seats. Then Mick Steele and Jack Whomes enter the dock flanked by four prison officers. A decade in prison has taken its toll on both men: Jack has lost a lot of weight and Mick looks much older, tired even.

Over the next five days, the court listened intently to the full extent of Darren Nicholls’s conniving and deceit. Everyone was convinced that the appeal could not possibly fail. Waiting for the judgment to be read out proclaiming their innocence appears to be a mere formality rather than a tense and agonising wait for the unknown.

At precisely 10.36 on the final day of the hearing, the judges enter the court. Moments later, Mick Steele and Jack Whomes take up their places in the dock now surrounded by six prison officers. I am suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of doom. The fact six officers instead of just four are now guarding Mick and Jack make me think things are not going to go their way. Police officers take up positions around and in the court, indicating they are expecting some sort of disorder. Mr Munday for the prosecution is laughing and joking with officers from Essex Police. My confidence is drained completely as the moment we have waited for is about to arrive.

When the hearing gets under way, Lord Justice Kay turns towards Whomes and Steele and says, ‘None of the grounds of appeal in relation to any appellant persuades us that any of the convictions is unsafe. This is an important case and we have been careful to consider it not only as a series of separate grounds of appeal but also on a holistic basis. We detect no element of unsafety and, accordingly, all appeals against conviction are dismissed.’

Steele shakes his head as the devastating news hits home. Jack sits stoney-faced, staring straight ahead. His mother Pam begins to cry and is comforted by John.

Lord Justice Kay then outlines the reasons for dismissing the appeal. ‘The case for the appellants is that the police officers, and particularly Detective Constables Brown and Winstone, deliberately withheld information about contacts with the media. We do not consider that this conclusion could properly be reached; indeed, we are sure that this did not happen. Undoubtedly, one or more police officers must have known of the visit to central London on 1 August 1996. What is not established is whether any particular police officer knew or had reason to know of the potential significance of that occasion.

‘We are prepared to assume, without finding, that one or more police officers (but not Detective Constables Brown and Winstone) knew in 1996 that Nicholls was liaising with the media with a view to making arrangements which would lead to financial reward. However, that assumption does not enable or entitle us to proceed to a conclusion that that or those police officer or officers were acting in bad faith by not taking steps to ensure that their knowledge was shared with the defence.

‘It is common ground that not every failure to disclose automatically gives rise to an unfair trial. As we are not persuaded that any police officer has been shown to have acted in bad faith, and in the light of the conclusion we have reached about the safety of the convictions when considered in the light of what is now known about Nicholls’s media contacts, we do not consider that the trial can properly be characterised as unfair.’

I cannot quite believe what I have just heard. Winstone and Brown were clearly not found guilty of any wrongdoing, but it has been accepted that somebody had taken Nicholls from his police cell in Colchester to a meeting with the media in central London prior to the trial and this has been deemed as not significant enough to inform the defence.

Steele’s counsel Baroness Kennedy QC gets quickly to her feet and says, ‘The court’s judgment has come as something of a surprise to the defence.’ An application will be made later for permission to appeal to the House of Lords. ‘This judgment may be seen as licensing police misconduct and that would be a source of public concern.’

Lord Justice Kay replies that the defence has 28 days to lodge their appeal. The case, for now, is closed.

Steele stands up and faces the Essex Police officers. ‘This is the most corrupt judgment I have ever heard in all my life,’ he shouts. ‘You are a corrupt lot. You won’t always have the bench there to protect you. We will be back.’ Seconds later, he and Jack are led away.

I make my way outside to ensure Pam is OK. Friends and family are comforting her and I think it rude to intrude, so I go in search of John.

As soon as I step outside the court building, the media descend upon me. ‘How have the Whomes family reacted to the news?’ a journalist asks.

‘The World Cup is being played this summer – don’t be surprised if you see John Whomes on your screens running across the pitch with a banner proclaiming his brother’s innocence,’ I reply. ‘This isn’t the first time these people have fallen in this fight; they have got up to fight on before and I have no doubt they will get up and fight again.’

As I finish talking, John Whomes appears and addresses the media. ‘Our legal team in there have said they are staggered about what’s happened. This case has not finished. It’s absolutely devastating. I will not let them beat us. We’ve had ten years fighting and, if need be, we will fight on for another ten years.’

Steele’s solicitor, Chris Bowen, adds, ‘While I live and breathe and represent Michael Steele, I will fight to ensure that he does not die in prison for offences he did not commit. Mr Steele himself will never admit these offences because he did not commit them. He has always protested his innocence and will continue to do so.

‘Our legal team is preparing to challenge the ruling in the House of Lords and we may have to fight it in the European courts. Europe may provide a crucial key to unlock the door to freedom. The campaign for Mr Steele and Mr Whomes will continue to grow – a new front is about to open.’

With all the talk of fighting going through my mind, I walk away from the court and make my way to Temple Underground station, which is crowded with stampeding commuters jostling for seats on crowded Tube trains. I don’t fancy joining in the mêlée just yet, so I sit in the station café and order a cup of tea and a sandwich. I decide I’ll read the newspapers for an hour before heading home.

A short, stocky man aged about 60 years old is sitting at the table next to mine. ‘Did I see you in that appeal hearing today?’ he asks.

‘I was at an appeal hearing today,’ I reply, ‘but I’m afraid I don’t remember seeing you there.’

‘What do you think of Essex Police, then?’ the man asks.

I laugh and tell him it is probably best that I do not say.

‘I’m Les Balkwell,’ the man says, as he leans over and extends his hand. ‘My 33-year-old son Lee was murdered and Tony Tucker’s mate covered it up. That’s why I went to the appeal. I want Essex Police to acknowledge the fact that my son and two other lads were murdered, but so far they have refused to do so.’

For the next two hours, I sit and listen as Les tells me the most extraordinary story relating to former members of the Essex Boys firm, their associates, Essex Police and the murders of three young men.

Lee Balkwell lived with his partner and their five-month-old son in Elm Park, Essex. On 18 July 2002 at 1.30 a.m. he was found dead in the mechanism of a concrete mixing machine in the yard where he worked. Initially everybody thought that it had been a tragic accident, but rumours began to circulate, which compelled his father Les to investigate the incident further. His findings to date are extremely alarming. So alarming, in fact, his local MP, James Brokenshire, has publicly demanded that Essex Police re-investigate not only Lee’s death but also the deaths of others. While carrying out his investigation, Les has discovered evidence linking those allegedly involved in his son’s death to those of at least two others. A 30-year-old man named Bradley Kendall was shot dead in his Brentwood home in December 2002. Despite the gunman writing a full confession, admitting the shooting, he did not face any charges in relation to Bradley’s death. A third man, who also had links with the Essex Boys firm, was shot dead on 28 February 2001. Dean Boshell was discovered lying spreadeagled in allotments on Manchester Drive, Leigh-on-Sea, with a single shotgun wound to the back of his head.

The members of the Essex criminal fraternity that had forever lurked in the background of the Rettendon murder case keep cropping up as Les tells me his story. I know several of the people he mentions and I know they are more than capable of committing the acts he believes they have carried out. I feel for Les and can feel myself being drawn into yet another campaign for justice. I want to help this desperate man learn the truth about the circumstances of his son’s death and the events that led up to the other young men’s deaths. Unfortunately I have to explain to Les I cannot help him. I owe it to myself and my children.

After hearing all the talk about continuing to fight, I realise that unlike the Whomes family and Chris Bowen, I have lost my will to fight another day for anybody. I have done all I can for Mick and Jack. From today, I need to focus on re-building my life. I am sure that Pam, John and Chris will never give up their struggle until Jack and Mick are finally released. I am equally certain that somebody reading this will assist Les Balkwell in his campaign. What remains of my life, I have to live for myself and those that I love. There have been too many wasted days already.