CARLTON LEECH
I’d heard of Carlton Leech – who hasn’t? He has a reputation. A reputation as a hard bastard. A very hard bastard. And he had a history.
Who hadn’t heard of the Range Rover murders? Three men found dead, blasted to eternity with a shotgun, in their Range Rover which was parked at the end of a lonely country lane in Essex. Some drug deal was supposed to be going down but it ended in blood, death and a lot of tears. One of the men, Tony Tucker, was Carlton’s best friend. Carlton was his minder. For one reason or another, he hadn’t been with him on that fateful night – if he had been, he would have got it too. Understandably Carlton was devastated by Tony’s death.
The first time I met Carlton, I really didn’t know what to expect. With a name like Carlton, I thought maybe he was black and I was quite surprised when he walked into TFI Friday’s on a wet Wednesday afternoon to find he was white. He’s a good-looking man, despite all the knocks and bumps on his face, but there is a terrible sadness in his eyes.
In my opinion, what happened to Tony has been the biggest blow in his life. Carlton and Tony were mates, ‘old muckers’, and used to be together 24/7. That particular day, Carlton didn’t go with him and I don’t think Carlton has ever got over losing Tony. He has churned it over in his mind again and again, asking, ‘Why? Why wasn’t I with him when he needed me?’ In a way, he blames himself and that’s what you can see in his eyes.
Carlton carried Tony’s coffin at the funeral and, when we were filming Hard Bastards for Channel Five, we took him to that lane and he became very emotional. By a strange coincidence, it was the anniversary of the killings.
He said he felt Tony all around him. At times, he stumbled over his words and he found it hard to go on. He did cry. Real tears and lots of them. Suddenly he said he didn’t want to do the TV show – it was just too painful. But looking back at it now, he feels that going there helped him to release all that anger and pain. He said it was as if he was being exorcised.
After the initial shock of being in that lonely lane, Carlton recovered. He was apologetic, crazy and funny and quite easy-going. We must have looked a picture. He’s so big we were like Little and Large.
One thing he couldn’t do was bullshit me. When we were filming, he tried to tell me that he didn’t take steroids.
‘Not that old chestnut!’ I said and laughed. Then he said he only took drugs to keep him awake.
‘Yeah, and I’m the Queen Mother!’ I said. And then we talked. He admitted he’d taken the lot, rooted and tooted big time – and steroids were the most terrifying. They’d turned him into a monster, a man who’d snap in a minute and use violence at the drop of a hat, a kind of Jekyll and Hyde person who could change from one to the other frighteningly fast.
The drugs had made him totally paranoid; he thought even his friends were against him, and he’d seriously thought about suicide. But Carlton is so strong he’s got through it – at least, he’s getting through it. These days, he keeps a low profile preferring to cook for his friends at home rather than going out. He has a girlfriend and life seems a little slower, calmer. But the paranoia hasn’t left him – he’s bought a flat which is on the third floor of a building at the end of a long cul-de-sac so he can see who’s coming. That gives him time to get ready – just in case.
The past still haunts him and probably always will, but maybe that’s what I found amazing about him. He’s been through so much. He’s lived life in the fast lane, he’s been stabbed and shot at, he’s been through the drugs nightmare, his best friend had his head blown off. At his lowest moment, Carlton just sat in the box room of his mum’s house, with his hands in his head, in total despair, just wanting to die. But he’s pulled himself through all that and he’s getting on with his life, he’s moving on. He’s changed his life. He stared death in the face and spat in its eye. He said to me that he’s a good boy now, a changed man, clean from drugs and crime. He told me, ‘There’s nothing like a straight pound note.’
BACKGROUND
I was brought up in the East End, the Forest Gate/ Stratford area. My parents were out working much of the time so I had to take care of myself. There were lots of fights at school and outside. You had to learn to use your fists to earn respect and survive. I didn’t like school but my dad was adamant that I should learn a trade. That way, he said, I’d always be able to find work. So, I started an apprenticeship in Engineering and Shipbuilding. As it turned out, Dad was right – after I left school I was never out of work. But outside school and work, football was my life. West Ham. The best.
I got involved with a gang which soon became known as the notorious ICF.
We’d meet up on Friday evenings in the pub and make arrangements for the following day’s match. We planned it like we were going to war. And sometimes that’s just what it felt like. It was a war of sorts. I have to admit that I loved the violence. The bloodier the better. It gave me that adrenalin buzz. Nothing like it. Eventually, it all changed.
Football hooliganism became a political thing. There were surveillance cameras everywhere and anyone who was suspected of causing trouble got banged up. Before, you’d just get a slapped wrist or a fine.
I started doorwork when I was 20. I worked some rough clubs and learned a lot. Then I moved on to bigger and bigger clubs until, eventually, I went into partnership with my friend Tony Tucker and we started a security firm. I was Head of Security at Ministry of Sound for a while, but we’d do security for anyone, anything. We were good. But there were a lot of drugs about and I took the lot – speed, Ecstasy, coke, steroids.
The steroids made me feel invicible. But they had a bad effect on me long-term. You think you can handle it easily, but your body can’t. Tony and I became involved in dealing – we provided the muscle when deals were going down. And that was the end of it. Tony and two associates of mine were blasted with a shotgun in a Range Rover in a field in Essex. I should have been there, too, but I was on an attempted murder charge at the time and couldn’t risk it. So I survived – even so, that was the end of it for me.
LIFE OF CRIME
I’ve been nicked, arrested for violence, grievous bodily harm and for possession of class A drugs with intent to supply but I’ve never been inside. Touch wood!
IS PRISON A DETERRENT?
Yes. I spent so much of my time when I was younger on visits to people who I cared for who were inside. Yes, it’s a deterrent for me.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN CAPITAL PUNISHMENT?
Yes, for the right reasons. For anything where they’ve hurt children – I think they should be castrated or killed. Slowly.
WHAT WOULD HAVE DETERRED YOU FROM A LIFE OF CRIME?
I really don’t know. Nothing really.
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN STABBED/SHOT?
I’ve been shot at, stabbed, glassed – oh, and I’ve had an axe in my head.
SCARIEST MOMENT?
I remember it well. I was on the door of a London club and I refused somebody entry. Later that evening, they came back with a gun. I couldn’t – I wouldn’t – run. I stood on the spot. I knew from the way he was holding the gun he wasn’t joking, but I shouted at him, ‘Fucking kill me!’ He tried and the gun failed. That was a scary moment. Very.
SADDEST MOMENT?
My saddest day was when Tony Tucker was shot in the head. It was the saddest day of my life.
He was the other half of me. He was my brother. It’s so true that when someone that close to you dies you feel like a part of yourself has died, it’s gone, it’s so painful.
WHAT RATTLES YOUR CAGE?
Imposters. I hate people who pretend to be what they’re not. Plastic gangsters basically – they rattle my cage.
HAVE YOU EVER REALLY LOVED ANYONE?
My children. I really love them. And Tony Tucker. He was my friend and I idolised him as I was growing up.
WHAT FRIGHTENS YOU?
Me, myself, I.
DESCRIBE A HARD BASTARD
Someone who can stand there without weapons, without tools, and still win a fight. Someone like a boxer.
NAME A HARD BASTARD
Vic Dark.
WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN FIVE YEARS?
Hopefully alive.
ANY REGRETS?
Sometimes I have trusted the wrong people. Funnily, I don’t regret my past. I’ve done some wicked bad things but you can’t reget your past. My past has made me the person I am today. I wish I could change some things … but regret? Nah.