Villains don’t like ‘grasses’. It is a dangerous and lonely occupation within the criminal world. Usually, a police informant or ‘grass’ is someone on the periphery of a criminal gang, but it is someone who knows what has gone on and sometimes, more usefully, what is about to happen.
Investigating serious and organised crime is a difficult task, so if someone is on the inside and is willing to help the police the offer will rarely be turned down. Some grasses may actually be part of the criminal gang. So their participation must be carefully handled, with full consent given, clear guidelines followed and with painstaking management by their police handlers and senior police commanders. Such a grass is classed as a participating informant. They must not encourage or be part of the planning of the crime in any way or they would be rightly accused of provocation, egging the crime on, a crime which would not happen if they weren’t involved. They are encouraged to frustrate the crime, leaving the main participants to be arrested for less substantial offences, such as conspiracy.
Occasionally, when a team of criminals is arrested for a serious offence such as armed robbery, one of them might opt to roll over, turn Queen’s evidence and be a grass, not only in the case for which they have been arrested but for others the gang has committed. There must be no incentive or promises to the individual, other than that the judge will be told of their help in the investigation. A prison sentence, albeit a shorter one, will be served in separate prison facilities. With safeguards in place such an individual may be given ‘resident informant’ or ‘supergrass’ status. Then the work of the police really begins.
The supergrass system had, however, fallen into serious disrepute in the 1970s. The system had been completely discarded in armed robbery investigations. A number of high-profile cases had collapsed when the evidence of the supergrass was discredited. They were often accused of giving the police what they wanted to hear. Easily contested by strong defence counsel and without independent corroboration, the use of supergrasses served no use. But that was about to change. There was a new tool and I, like many others, was trained to use it. The crime scene and forensic science evidence was to make or break this case.
The first offence which the Flying Squad investigated, one which was to become part of a large series, occurred in the spring of 1985. Early one morning, three armed men arrived at the crematorium in Enfield, north London. They took the staff hostage and waited for a security van to arrive. The van was due to drop off a small amount of wages but, unknown to the gang, the delivery time had been changed that morning. The gang waited but, once the expected time passed, they left the staff tied up and departed empty-handed. A device had been strapped to one of the hostages. It was found to be a viable device and, although no explosive substance was present, it could have caused some injury.
Two weeks later, Hertfordshire Police were called to the premises of Cross and Herbert in Hoddeston. Members of staff had been tied up and held hostage by two men, again when a security van was due to arrive. The van’s crew sensed something was wrong as the area was unusually quiet and aborted the drop. So once again the gang left empty-handed.
Three weeks later, the Flying Squad investigated an attempted armed robbery at a business premises in Brimsdown, Enfield. Three men took the staff hostage whilst they expected a security van to arrive. It didn’t, so they left.
Two months later, the premises of Imperial Cold Storage in Tottenham took the gang’s attention. Two men armed with a handgun and a shotgun took members of staff hostage. A security van arrived and one guard made a drop but he was quickly attacked and an explosive device was strapped to him with threats that if he didn’t comply it would be detonated. He was made to go back to the van. His colleagues were overpowered.
By this time other workers were arriving for work and a shot was fired. A manager too arrived and he was overpowered and another shot was fired. The gang escaped in the manager’s car with a large quantity of cash.
The Flying Squad linked these scenes together because descriptions and other factors matched and, quite simply, largescale robberies are not that common. The gang had left a number of items behind, but not a single finger mark. Most interesting to Detective Constable Kevin Shapland, who was investigating the crimes, was the explosive device which they had left strapped to the terrified guard at Imperial Cold Storage.
Kevin arranged for the offence to be publicised on the BBC Crimewatch programme. This was a now monthly opportunity for police to appeal to a large TV audience for any information members of the public might have regarding serious crime investigations. It was popular prime TV viewing and it had resulted in many successes. Apart from members of the public calling in, police and prison officers from around the country would watch in and have information which the police network had failed to communicate. This is not a criticism but a reality with the sheer volume of information which circulates in the police service. The programme has also resulted in the prompt arrest of suspects whose descriptions or photographs have been so accurate that the suspects themselves walked into a police station to give themselves up.
The device was shown on the programme but the response was lukewarm at best, but then something happened which can only be described as luck. Luck is something which sometime happens and Kevin could be said to be luckier than most detectives. The saying ‘you make you own luck’ has elements of truth. Kevin’s sheer productivity led to things which meant nothing on their own suddenly falling into place.
A young boy living in Broxbourne, Hertfordshire had been watching TV one night and slotted in a video to watch a film he had recorded some weeks before. The video had recorded part of the Crimewatch programme which was broadcast before the film. The boy saw Kevin’s appeal and, more importantly, recognised the device. The boy was, like many teenage boys, a bit of a geek, a bit of a hoarder. A few weeks before, the boy had been looking through a plastic bag left out by a neighbour for that morning’s refuse collection in the road where he lived. In it he found a circuit board which looked remarkably like the one which Kevin had shown. The boy also found a mask and a wig. The boy kept the pieces and was particularly inquisitive about the device, but having studied it and played with the mask he later threw all the pieces away.
The boy called the local police, who contacted Kevin. Although the boy had thrown away the device he had found he was able to draw it. Kevin was convinced that this was a firm lead and no coincidence. So he made enquiries about the occupant of Emerald, the house outside which the boy had found the items. The house had recently changed hands. The previous owner ran an electrical business, but enquiries led nowhere, and it was pretty clear that he had nothing whatsoever to do with the robberies. Kevin’s attention moved to the new occupants. David and Rita Croke moved to Emerald from rented accommodation in Enfield where they had lived for many years. David apparently had no regular job and Kevin ascertained that he had a couple of very minor criminal conviction many years before. The house was in Rita’s name, but had been bought outright for cash.
Kevin was working on other investigations and other lines of enquiry. But he made more discreet enquiries about the Emerald lead and would pass by the house at regular intervals and note the registration numbers of cars parked on the drive or nearby.
It was then that another offence took place. In December 1985 Joe Symes, who worked as a guard at the Armaguard security depot in Harlow, Essex, returned home late one evening. Opening the door he found his wife and daughter being held hostage in their own home by two armed and masked men. It was apparent the men knew a lot about Joe and his family and where he worked. They strapped a device to him and told him that they would detonate it if he didn’t do exactly as they said.
Joe and his family were kept hostage overnight. His wife and child were allowed to go to sleep but Joe was quizzed. Joe was a custodian, so he held one of the sets of keys to the premises, but two sets were needed to gain full access to the company vault. Another custodian needed to be overpowered. Very early the following morning Joe was made to drive back to his place of work. As other workers, including a second custodian, arrived for work they were attacked. This gave the gang full access to the vault and allowed them to strip it of a large quantity of cash. The employees were locked in a room and it was a few hours before the alarm was raised. Joe’s wife and child were found unharmed, but tied up at the family home. They were terrified and had suffered a long ordeal. The robbery was the largest in Essex Police’s history and news quickly filtered through to the Flying Squad office. Essex set up a major incident room headed by a detective superintendent.
The device was disrupted by the Army Ordnance Corps. But when later reconstructed it was found to be a dummy. It was found to contain nothing more than wires and lights, which nevertheless had a terrifying effect on the victims.
Kevin made immediate contact with the Essex investigation team. He was seconded to the investigation there for a short while. There was a concern that the Crimewatch programme may have led to a copycat team trying their luck. It was a serious concern which needed to be borne in mind.
Further observations were made of the coming and goings at Emerald. One day there was particular activity at the premises. Surveillance photographs showed the presence of a car that was registered to the wife of a man also very well known amongst detective for his past criminal activity. There was also a photograph of a tall slim man. When the photograph was passed around the Flying Squad office, Phil Burrows, a detective sergeant, immediately recognised him. The man was Don Barrett. He was a former supergrass and a division one armed robber. The investigation was given an official operation title and Operation Standard was born.
Donald Walter Barrett was a career criminal, with a string of convictions for violence and armed robbery going back over thirty years. Now approaching fifty, he was a tall handsome man, but masked and holding a shotgun he would frighten the hell out of any law-abiding member of the public who would have the misfortune to meet him.
Barrett had been a supergrass in the 1970s. He had been caught ‘bang to rights’ at an armed robbery by the Flying Squad. He had turned supergrass against his criminal colleagues, which resulted in a string of lengthy convictions for them. His reward was a lighter, but still considerable, sentence. In his early days he had been at the wrong end of a supergrass’s evidence. Bertie Smalls, the very first supergrass, had informed on him.
Once out of prison Barrett went back to his old ways. He was known as a grass amongst the top divisions of robbers, but Croke, with no convictions or apparent experience in armed robbery, decided to work with him. I’m not sure if he knew of Barrett’s past or his craft as a ruthless robber was sufficient to make him attractive to work with. Equally, Croke may have believed that Barrett wouldn’t or couldn’t be a supergrass again and that made him more attractive. Whatever the reason, Croke did work with Barrett. Barrett knew how the police worked, maybe Croke thought this would be useful. If he did, he would be wrong.
Other players were noted coming and going at Emerald. Barrett and Croke travelled down to Battersea in London, followed by a police surveillance team. Barrett and Croke paid particular attention to Shield Security, a security company premises on an industrial estate. A car was noticed there which had also been seen outside Emerald. It belonged to a young man called Al Turner who worked at the security company.
A full surveillance operation was mounted over the coming weeks. It was pretty clear that Shield Security was to receive the gang’s attention and Turner was the inside man. For this reason the company could not be contacted directly by the detectives for fear that anyone close to the management might be involved or unwittingly let out to Turner or any other crooked employee that the police were on to them.
One night there was late-night activity at Emerald with Barrett and Croke both present. In the early hours of the following morning, Turner drove to work at the depot, followed by Barrett and Croke in a blue Ford Escort van.
The full police team were called in and were briefed at Lambeth Police Support HQ. From there I was called to slip quietly into a rear entrance of Battersea Police Station with Kevin and a few other officers. This station was at the entrance to the industrial estate where Shield was located. It was normally only open during daylight hours to serve the local business community. The building remained in darkness throughout the night, hiding its cargo of detectives, including Kevin Shapland, who kept ‘eyeball’ or observation from a darkened first-floor office window.
Turner waited for a colleague to arrive. Barrett and Croke were parked up nearby. Then, rather unexpectedly, Turner came out of the building carrying a small but very heavy box, followed by his colleague. They got into a white security van and drove off, followed closely by Barrett and Croke in the blue van.
It was decision time for the police commander. Peter Gwynne, the detective chief superintendent, immediately gave the order for the surveillance team to split. Half would stay at the industrial estate, whilst half would follow the vehicle at a discreet distance. The police helicopter was used to track the vehicles as they made their way north across London, eventually picking up the M1 motorway.
All the time the blue Escort van remained close behind the security van. Moving north caused problems for the trailing surveillance officers and detectives. They were armed and they needed to inform each police force area they entered that they were there.
Finally, the security van pulled into the service area at Newport Pagnall, near Milton Keynes in Buckinghamshire. Turner went and got two cups of coffee and returned to the vehicle, pursued closely on foot by Barrett and Croke, who by this stage was wearing a poorly fitting wig. The white van quickly left the service area and it was seen that Croke was driving it, followed by Barrett, on his own in the blue van. That was enough. Within half a mile of the service area the signal to ‘attack’ was given. To give the ‘attack’ is the pinnacle of a Flying Squad detective’s career and normally reserved for the senior officer on the ground. I have observed it many times and it still fills me with emotion and pride to have witnessed such brave action by police officers. It is when the tables are turned and the criminals who think they are in control suddenly realise they are not. Out of the very woodwork, normal-looking members of the public emerge, in unison, show their true colours and pounce on the gang as they literally go ‘across the pavement’. Well, the pavement this time was the M1, the major motorway running through England. Listening on the radio back in Battersea, I heard the words ‘Attack, attack, attack’. Not then a religious man I still said a prayer, for the safety of those going into action. The next few minutes were an anxious wait until the news of the arrests was conveyed with the welcome information that they had been effected without injury.
Flying Squad vehicles had forced the white and blue vans to stop. The Squad officers emerged from their cars, surrounded the vans, and with sheer overwhelming numbers and fire power quickly took control, but not before Croke and Barrett had tried to make a run for it. Turner and his colleague were both found tied up and lying face down in the back of the white security van.
Barrett took it like the seasoned professional robber he was. Croke not quite so. It was his first arrest in such circumstances, his world had been turned upside down and he hadn’t seen it coming.
Both men were in possession of loaded handguns, ammunition, radio scanners (for monitoring police radio frequencies, unsuccessfully on this occasion). Croke was wearing the wig and Barrett a balaclava mask. A knife was taken off Croke.
Turner and his colleague were released from their bonds and to his surprise, Turner was promptly arrested. The content of the box was examined and revealed a quantity of gold bullion bars valued at a quarter of a million pounds.
The motorway was closed for half an hour as the suspects were taken away and the vehicles recovered. I was already on my way and within an hour I had arrived at Milton Keynes Police Station.
At the police station, Barrett realised his predicament. He would die in prison, either from old age or from an attack by another inmate. He quickly offered to turn grass. At first the suggestion may have been laughed at, but it soon received more serious consideration. The rest of the team were obviously not going to help the detectives. So his offer was carefully considered. After a few days’ discussion at the highest levels within the force, it was accepted. Barrett became the first man in British legal history to be a supergrass for the second time.
I knew I was working with competent and talented detectives, I knew my job and I was sure we would be able to determine if Barrett was telling the truth or not. We had to find strong independent corroboration which would satisfy the most testing defence examination. It would take many months of meticulous work by a diverse team of professionals, but the truth was out there. We would have to review many old scenes, some going back years. It would involve undertaking new examinations of suspects, their homes and workplaces to find incriminating evidence. This was the nature of using crime scene and forensic science evidence to corroborate the supergrass.
The fact that Barrett had been caught was testament to the fact that there is no such thing as a perfect crime. Even he, who had spent a lifetime committing crime, getting caught and informing, had made mistakes. Some of the obvious thoughts probably went through his mind as he stood on the windy hard shoulder of the M1. Evidence would convict him if he chose to keep tight lipped about his involvement. And not only for the offence for which he had been arrested, but for others too. His attractiveness to the team was his awareness of new forensic techniques and the things he had learned as a career criminal and a grass, and these all proved to be useless. He simply created more and different types of evidence.
The investigator who pursued him for two years was Kevin Shapland. Kevin was a prolific detective. Prematurely grey with a full head of hair and in his early thirties, he maintained a string of informants. This kept the Flying Squad north-east London office busy on its own. No mean feat when the office at the time contained fifty detectives, many amongst the élite of their profession. Kevin was a detective constable, the lowest detective rank, but his abilities outshone many of much higher rank. Kevin wasn’t interested in promotion; he never took the necessary exam to make sergeant. It was his choice. He didn’t want it and didn’t need it. The rank of detective sergeant of the Flying Squad was a career milestone for most. As detective constable he would be the junior, the bag carrier to his sergeant. But such was Kevin’s reputation that his sergeant rightly acknowledged who was senior. Kevin was the only detective constable to be widely known to have a detective sergeant as his bag carrier.
There was no detective task that he couldn’t turn his talents to. He often led the investigation with only the cursory eye of a senior officer. His talent and maturity always shone through. On the occasions when the investigation wasn’t his, he would always volunteer to help, just as one of the guys, taking statements, interviewing suspects or handling the exhibits register. To each he would give total professionalism.
Kevin is simply the best detective I have ever worked with, and there have been many contenders.
So Barrett’s arrest may have seemed a foregone conclusion. Nonetheless, it is remarkable since it came out of a situation that in the early days seemed to hold little prospect.
The suspects were held ‘incommunicado’, which means they were briefly denied any contact with the outside world, including legal representation, whilst searches and other arrests were made. This was to prevent other suspects finding out what had happened and escaping or trying to destroy evidence. I say trying to because the very action of destroying evidence often produces more. I will not elaborate! So the arrests at Newport Pagnall triggered a series of arrests and searches. Rita Croke was confronted by a detective as she walked to the front of Emerald with a black plastic refuse bag. She must have already known or suspected something was up, because the bag contained a pistol, shotgun cartridges, hats and clothing. She was arrested and brought to Milton Keynes also.
Things were hectic at Milton Keynes Police Station. This was the biggest thing to happen there in a long time. The first thing I did on arriving was to introduce myself to the local SOCOs, of which there were four. I briefed them as to what had happened and asked for their assistance, which I was pledged, with the exception of one who appeared uninterested. He could not be shaken from reading a newspaper, sat in his chair, even when the Metropolitan Police helicopter, the only one in the country at that time, landed directly outside his window. I wouldn’t have minded but it didn’t even appear a decent newspaper. I realised I wasn’t going to get any help from him, and, quite frankly, I didn’t want it. Coming in from the Met, and particularly from the Flying Squad, often had an adverse affect on provincial officers. Many Met, and perhaps some Flying Squad, officers tried to lord it over their provincial colleagues. The Met was generally good, and the Squad special, simply because of the volume and level of crime it had to investigate. Many provincial officers were every bit as skilled and committed. This was something I tried to recognise and communicate as soon as I went into a police station outside London. I often needed help and the best way to get it was to recognise the worth of others. Swooping in unannounced at provincial police forces was the nature of the job, and my approach normally ensured absolute assistance. I was fortunate to witness some excellent commitment and professionalism amongst the new colleagues I encountered.
Operation Standard now had a number of urgent priorities. The vehicles would require supervised removal to the police station and the prisoners would need to be examined. I briefed the local SOCOs and divided up the work.
I was present when Barrett was examined. This took place before any interview. A police surgeon was called to take blood samples and he arrived promptly. As well as preparing bags and containers for the samples we would take, I had scanned the room for sharp objects. I had had a scare a few years before. In a similar situation, a suspect had noticed a kitchen knife left by a member of the custody staff after an inappropriate meal. The suspect made a move to grab the knife to aid his escape but was thwarted by a quick-thinking police officer. Barrett was brought into the examination room by a police custody officer and stood with his back to the examination couch. I was busy, carefully writing down the doctor’s extremely long and unusual name when I heard the doctor say, ‘What samples do you want?’ Still concentrating on writing the doctor’s name, I gathered my thoughts. Before I could speak, I heard Barrett’s gravely voice confidently reply, ‘Oh the usual, blood, urine, saliva, hair samples.’ Instead of addressing his question to Kevin, the doctor had asked Barrett. When I looked up I realised why he had made the mistake. Barrett was dressed in a smart shirt and tie. Kevin was dressed in blue jeans and T-shirt. Given Barrett’s smart appearance the doctor had assumed that he was the detective and Kevin was the man in custody. Stunned for a moment, I intervened and told the doctor the error of his ways. Barrett had seized and capitalised on the moment even though he could not possibly profit from such an action. Once I had pointed out the mistake to the flustered doctor, we all laughed at the humour of the situation. It demonstrated Barrett’s calm and cheekiness in the most serious of situations for him. It underlined to me the fact that although Barrett was in custody and going nowhere, he was nevertheless still extremely alert and a very formidable adversary.
The examination was thorough and conducted in an atmosphere of cooperation by Barrett. He consented to all the samples, although he could have refused some. Blood and saliva samples were taken for grouping (DNA technology had yet to be used in forensic science at that time), blood and urine for drugs and alcohol, to determine the physical state of the suspect. Hair combings and hair samples were taken for hair and fibre examinations. All of Barrett’s outer clothing was taken.
The episode in the examination room was an insight into Barrett’s considerable knowledge, and it was pretty accurate. He had gone through every criminal academy on offer. Although his knowledge was good he had made mistakes, not least being caught. He had left clues which would link him to previous offences that we were investigating.
It was over the next few hours that Barrett surveyed his situation. He was, after all, a former supergrass and his time in prison, which was likely to be lengthy, would be more unpleasant (if that were possible) and dangerous. He would be segregated from the main prison population with the sex offenders, but his life could be in danger and he knew it.
Croke appeared to be the mastermind, but he was by, comparison, of relative good character previously. So, if anyone was expected to roll over, it would be him. In any event it was Barrett who quickly offered to turn informant, to the surprise of Kevin Shapland and Detective Sergeant Dick Kirby. If Kevin was the best detective I have ever worked with, Dick was a strong contender for the runner-up slot. Dick was a cunning and shrewd craftsman. It was he who paved the way for Barrett to be accepted as a supergrass for the second time. This was no mean feat and involved taking a ‘without prejudice’ statement, which Barrett was told would never have seen the light of day again if the Director of Public Prosecutions had rejected his offer to inform.
The statement was accepted and Barrett knew that the court would learn of his cooperation and he could fall on their mercy.
The investigation in hand was not about mercy for Barrett, but rather truth. There was a lot of work for me to do. Not least the completion of the vehicle examination and the collation of all the exhibits which had been recovered. I elected to stay in Milton Keynes for a few days rather than spend a couple of hours driving each day in the heavy traffic back to London. I was put up in a pleasant guest room on one of the upper floors of the police station. The station was new and had three major incident suites which were put at our disposal. The scenes of crime suite boasted a group of spacious rooms, including office, examination room and photographic studio. It occurred to me that they were expecting a lot of trouble in the future. The facilities made the job much easier.
We already suspected the team of involvement in at least four offences. Barrett quickly told us of another seven offences, making a total of eleven major armed robberies.
Within a few days, Barrett was taken to the secret and secure location in east London which would be his home for over a year until the trial a long way in the future. The investigation team would also be based there.
The issue of corroboration came up almost immediately. An initial statement was taken from Barrett outlining the extent of the gang’s activity. A meeting was called by Detective Inspector Ken Grange, who had been given the overall responsibility for the investigation. Present were a team of about eight officers, myself and a typist. The team would remain together until the trial, although I still had to undertake my normal duties back at the main office on other investigations.
Dick advised that a detailed separate statement be taken from Barrett for each offence. Corroboration was a key issue from the very beginning. The disrepute into which the supergrass system had fallen was the result of previous supergrasses making up stories to please their interrogators. That could not happen here. It was at that point that someone suggested that Barrett should tell us where we could find forensic and other evidence. It may have been that some of the detectives present were giving Barrett credit for his forensic knowledge or awareness. The incident in the examination room at Milton Keynes was fresh in their minds. I was deeply unhappy with this approach. He would be leading us and that was not good as far as I was concerned. I felt it wasn’t just about corroborating the offences themselves. I thought it was important to corroborate as much as possible of what Barrett told us, however trivial. This would ensure that the whole of Barrett’s story was accurate. This was accepted and it would be my role primarily to look at the detailed statements, seek corroboration from whatever had been recovered in the previous investigations and undertake or arrange further examinations if they were necessary. The eleven offences covered six police force areas going back four years. Around £1.4 million had been stolen and a lot of innocent victims assaulted and terrorised in the process.
A long and detailed statement was obtained for each offence. One of the investigation team was designated to ensure that all the case papers and exhibits were obtained from the police force concerned.
Detective Constable Ray Bennett was given the job of exhibits officer, the task of controlling all the exhibits. Apart from the original exhibit numbers, an additional identification serial number was added to indicate in which offence the item was recovered. This would ensure that where numbers were similar or duplicated, they would be easily referred to and understood.
The integrity of the items was paramount. Without this any further examinations would be impossible. So the condition in which each item was received and how it was packaged, labelled and sealed was examined.
In only one case did the items reach us in an unsealed condition and without clear documentation, which meant that we could not undertake further comparison. The integrity of the items had been breached possibly by ongoing inspection by the original investigators after the first laboratory examinations. I could not tell if we even had the original items as they were not sealed, even though they matched the documented descriptions. Someone had decided that the sealing, labelling and integrity of the items were no longer an issue. They were wrong. The items had not been destroyed as at the conclusion of an investigation. The fact that we found them in a police property store showed that the case had not been closed. This was a shame but equally a fact. It is not uncommon for the integrity of items to be neglected after a long period of time, once it is felt that the detailed forensic examinations have been completed. The fact is that they are really never complete and items should be sealed and accompanied by a complete record of their opening and examination until the time they are destroyed.
The examination of Emerald could have taken months and could have been without a clear purpose. So a strategy was adopted which meant that there would be a comprehensive search but the scene would be left as intact as possible. This meant that return visits could be made as more information from Barrett came to light. Police would remain in control of the premises for some weeks as it was technically a continuing search.
Emerald was a bungalow with a big garden and an exterior garage. A large quantity of material was recovered in the search. Each piece was described, documented, labelled and sealed whilst its potential was evaluated.
Once all the initial searches had been completed, the core group of the team sat down with the exhibit registers for each offence and search. The group included the senior investigator, his deputy, other detectives, the exhibits officer and me. Every statement had to be read and understood to identify potential areas of evidence and corroboration. Every single item of the many hundreds we had collected together was considered in turn. Each item was evaluated. I asked the question, ‘What could this item be examined for to prove or disprove the allegations made?’ The answers ranged from finding the offenders’ finger marks on a surface, to which they did not have legitimate access, to establishing that wires cut at the crime scene were cut by a pair of wire-cutters found at a suspect’s address. Often items would require a sequence of examinations, such as the wire-cutters for cutting marks, paint and fingerprints. So from scene, suspect, vehicle or suspect’s address the contribution of every item to the case was considered. This was a mammoth task. It meant that nothing was missed. Every piece of intelligence and evidence could be recovered from all the items based on what we knew and what we suspected. Even at this relatively early stage we recognised that whatever answers we received from the laboratory examinations, there was likelihood that they would promote further questions. That was our hope and it is what investigation is all about.
Some questions were independent of the supergrass’s insight. They were things we would have done routinely. In the search of Emerald a quantity of cutting implements, including wire-cutters, were recovered. Detailed examination of one of many revealed that it had been used to cut the perimeter fence wire at the Armaguard scene in Essex. The wig which Croke had been wearing at the time of his arrest contained fibres from a mask which had been dropped at Armaguard. A pot of adhesive recovered from Emerald was of identical composition to that used on the Armaguard ‘bomb’ device. A piece of cloth torn from a garment, complete with stitching of a different colour, found at Emerald matched a piece left inside the device recovered at the Cross and Herbert scene. The battery cover to the scanning device found at Armaguard fitted a scanner with a missing battery cover found at Emerald.
This evidence alone would have built a strong enough case against the gang for the Cross and Herbert and the Armaguard robberies. But there were other offences. This time Barrett would play his part.
About a month into the investigation a full picture of the allegations being made by Barrett was clear. Other suspects were implicated and areas for search identified. A detailed plan was drawn up of those who needed to be arrested and interviewed and where premises needed to be search for evidence. Extensive briefings were prepared and officers from all four Flying Squad branch offices around London called in to assist. Over a hundred and fifty officers converged on the north-east branch office at four am on the day of the searches. The five Squad SOCOs were there. Over twenty-four premises were to be searched simultaneously at six am. The briefings completed, the teams set out. The SOCOs were sent to the priority searches but were available to assist in any others should the need arise. By the end of that day hundreds of sealed items were deposited at the branch office. It would take me almost a year to work through and assess the entire potential evidence and arrange specialist examination at a forensic science laboratory.
Items for fingerprint examination I would examine or submit to the Metropolitan Police Fingerprint Laboratory. Many of the armed robberies we were now reinvestigating had been examined at a range of forensic science laboratories. Predominantly, the Metropolitan Police Forensic Science Laboratory and the Home Office Forensic Science Laboratory in Huntingdon had received items from the original investigations. At least two of the cases had been examined by a particular senior scientist, Kevan Dunnicliff, at the Huntingdon laboratory. Kevan was a quiet, bespectacled, studious individual. In his presence there was no doubt that this precise man was an expert in his field. I knew the sheer volume of work I was giving him would be demanding on his time. In discussion with him it was clear he understood the nature of the corroborative task we were undertaking. There was pressure on me to submit the cases to the Metropolitan Police Forensic Science Laboratory. It was geographically nearer to the new investigation team and our usual laboratory, but from an investigative point of view that was irrelevant. Most had been submitted to other Home Office forensic science laboratories and, more importantly, Armaguard had been sent to Kevan at Huntingdon. So it was my decision that all the items would be submitted there as Kevan had the most prior experience in the case. Nobody challenged this from within the investigation or in my professional chain of command. I arranged for Kevan to act as the lead scientist. As a forensic chemist he would have the main bulk of the work, particularly with the devices and components we had recovered. He would also call on the expert services of Mike Harris (a forensic biologist) and John Burns (a ballistics expert). The purpose of the examinations was made clear, establishing a link between suspect and scene or scene and scene. Kevan could coordinate this so that the best and most effective method of achieving our goals, if indeed there were links, could be made. The very nature of the task meant that there was a lot of cross-referencing and it would take time and resources. We all wanted to work as efficiently as possible. I made many trips to the laboratory to ensure Kevan, his team and the investigators back in London were kept up to date. The communication worked well and, although it took time, the case continued to build.
Sometimes we got answers we were not expecting. An interesting line of enquiry had us all confused for a while. At the Armaguard scene a white Honda van had been seen by two of the witnesses. In an unprompted statement from Barrett he told of how he went with Croke to a lock-up private garage where a van had been stored for over a year before the robbery. He also stated that Croke had accidentally pulled the garage door over the van, causing the door to slam against the front of the vehicle. Croke had driven the van across to France on his way to Malta for a holiday, directly after the successful Armaguard robbery. The van had broken down en route, and he abandoned it and bought another car to complete his journey.
Barrett had only visited the garage where the van was stored once. After some research it was found and I went there to undertake an examination. Enquiries locally revealed that it had been unused for some time. Opening the garage door it was found to be empty, apart from a pair of roof bars on the floor against the rear wall.
I carefully examined the door of the garage with a good lamp. There, on a cross-member on the inside surface, I saw a flake of firmly fixed and embedded paint. It had remained stuck there; even Barrett wasn’t to know that. Measuring and recording it, I carefully removed the paint, placing it in a small sample container. I also took a control sample of the paint on the garage door so that this could be eliminated.
I then turned my attention to the roof bars on the garage floor. Barrett hadn’t mentioned them at all. He may never have seen or noticed them. What was striking from the start was that the fixings were set to fit a very small vehicle. Magnifying glass in hand, I carefully looked at the rusted grip end. I could see very small pieces of paint embedded there too. I could not see any real colour as the surface I was looking at was probably an undercoat. To remove them would be very difficult and potentially disastrous. So, having measured the gauge of the roof bar setting, I covered the grips with small plastic bags and taped along the shaft to secure and protect the grip ends.
The dimensions at which the bars were set were the exact size to fit a Honda van of the type described. It was of a particularly narrow width as the van was really quite small. Kevan made a detailed microscopic examination of the grip ends of the bars which revealed fragments of vehicle paint. The layer structure (primer, undercoat and top-coat) was that of a Honda van and model of the period. But the top coat was yellow. This was not the manufacturer’s original finish and indicated that the vehicle from which it came had been resprayed. The witnesses had clearly described the small Honda van as white.
This paint found on the garage door too was from a white Honda van which had been resprayed yellow. This was significant information and corroborated Barrett but not the witnesses at Armaguard who had seen a white Honda van. Barrett had described it as yellow and he had seen it hit the garage door. The remnants of the van were found in France. Although it had been scrapped, someone had cut the rear off and turned it into a trailer. It was definitely yellow and paint samples were obtained to confirm the layer structure. The two witnesses from the Armaguard scene were re-interviewed and it was revealed exactly when they had seen the van. They had both seen the van before dusk, under sodium street lighting. When this was reconstructed it was clear that if anyone didn’t already know the colour of the van it would appear white under the street lighting there.
This was significant to me and a testament to the corroboration process we had undertaken. Barrett told investigators what he had seen. The Armaguard witnesses too, but although their view was truthful, the sodium street lighting had deceived them. The paint and roof bars corrected this view. Barrett didn’t even know about the roof bars and that corroborated his evidence and linked it to a Honda van, the type, if not the colour seen at the crime scene. Barrett was telling the police the truth. The corroboration process was working.
Barrett gave a statement regarding a robbery which occurred in Greenwich, south London, committed by him, Croke and other gang members. A security van was attacked in the street. Croke had tried to shoot through the armour-plated glass first with some home-made armour-piercing bullets and then with a builder’s nail gun. Both failed but left the screen badly damaged. This offence would never have been linked to the gang if Barrett hadn’t informed the investigators. There was nothing to link them description-wise or in the method of attack and it was lost in the recorded investigation detail. So it was never linked before Barrett brought it to our attention. Barrett said that Croke had experimented by making steel-headed ammunition and had accidentally discharged one in his garage. A return visit to Emerald was undertaken and the damage found, revealing yet more evidence.
Examination of the items from the Greenwich scene revealed another piece of cloth. It was found in the getaway car and was complete with a seam and stitching. It matched up with the two pieces of cloth found at Cross and Herbert and Emerald. There was a three-way connection. All these pieces of cloth had originated from the same garment.
Barrett went on to tell investigators where the industrial nail gun could be found. It was at the home address of another suspect. A search was undertaken and a Hilti builder’s nail gun was recovered. Examination of the mechanism revealed fragments of glass which matched the laminated armoured screen of the security vehicle which had been attacked.
The holiday which Croke took in Malta with his wife was also to be significant. Barrett had joined them there. One evening, after a good meal with plenty of drink, David Croke decided to buy a boat and name it Armag, after the premises which they had robbed. It was a bit of bravado on his part and he saw the idea through. A few days later (no doubt having sobered up) this didn’t seem such a good idea so it was over-painted with plain white paint. Barrett told us where the boat could be found. I knew that if we could find the boat we could use light sources to see through the upper paint layers to reveal the name underneath. Kevin Shapland arranged a trip to Malta on which I would accompany him. In the end it was Detective Inspector Ken Grange and Kevin Shapland who went. If the boat was found I would be called for. The boat was found, but senior officers at Scotland Yard felt that they had spent enough on this trip so the two detectives would have to do their best without me. I was disappointed and I spent a day on the phone to the Malta Police Laboratory which probably cost more than a trip would have. Under my direction they indeed revealed the name Armag from the lower paint surface of the boat. This was photographed. Kevin Shapland, ever the professional, took a statement that the word ‘Armag’ meant nothing in the local language.
In another twist, Barrett admitted to a bullion robbery that he and Croke had undertaken in the west of England. The amount reported stolen was under £100,000. But Barrett and Croke had actually stolen three times that amount. It was revealed that the company they robbed, at gunpoint, had been in fact recycling gold bullion from another major armed robbery. They had stolen already stolen gold! A dust coat found in the garage at Emerald had been examined for firearms residues in connection with Croke’s alleged manufacture and discharging of weapons there. Fragments of bullion-quality gold were found in the pockets during this examination.
Although no finger marks matching the suspects had been found at any of the scenes, fingerprint evidence was to play an important role. Croke and others had opened bank accounts in false names. Their fingerprints were found on documents, which enabled a direct link between them and the accounts and deposits after each successful robbery to be made.
Even robbers have to use banks if they want to legitimise their ill gotten gains. In the major bullion robbery which preceded Croke and Barrett’s robbery in the west of England, many other suspects drew attention to themselves in a variety of ways. One very large but not too bright individual was given the task of taking a quantity of laundered cash to deposit at a small bank in a village outside London. He towered well over six and a half feet tall and was almost as wide. He had to wait for the bank to open; its hours were limited to just a few and only on two days a week. The presence of such a stranger drew attention in the quiet village. When the bank finally opened he went inside to be greeted by the small, elderly bank cashier. Placing £3,000 in cash on the counter with details of the account into which it was to be paid, he turned smartly and was about to leave. He was stopped by the cashier who in a firm motherly voice told him to wait. Being the polite man he was in the company of such a matriarchal figure he stood still. He waited whilst she counted the cash. But there was a problem. There was £3,100 and not the £3,000 that had been written on the slip for him. ‘What shall I do with the extra £100?’ the lady asked. He was struck dumb. He had no instructions for this eventuality, it was outside his brief. So he thought for a while and then calmly said to the elderly lady, ‘Have a drink!’ turned and left. The episode was enough to draw attention to the money-laundering process taking place in small amounts around the country.
The case built against Croke and the other defendants, aided by Barrett’s testimony and the corroboration was accumulating. There was no silver bullet. Such is the nature of corroboration; there was lots of simple but significant independent scientific evidence which showed he was telling the truth in the small and large things.
As time went on, I was drawn back to other duties at the main office and I had to organise my time, undertaking examinations and then planning submissions to the laboratory. Trips to the lab allowed me to keep up to date with developments and ensure clear communication between investigators and laboratory. As information and result became available, they would be communicated and reviewed to see if yet more work was needed.
Once the statements were back from Kevan and the many scientists who had undertaken an array of examinations, they were each reviewed by the detectives and me to see if they led anywhere else. The integrity, history and examinations of every item were cross-referenced and the items prepared for easy accessibility at court. The whole process took over a year.
Lawyers advised that the trial would last at least four months. The police and prosecutors were ready. At one stage, in an attempt to get off a charge of armed robbery of the van at Newport Pagnall, Croke tried to claim that not only Al Turner but the other guard was also in on the crime. This would mean that, instead of robbery, they had committed a theft made to look like a robbery. The evidence, however, said something else.
The night before the trial was due to begin Kevin Shapland was informed that Croke was going to change his plea to guilty. The substantial amount of overwhelming independent crime scene and forensic science evidence had forced Croke and the other defendants to admit their offences. This was a massive success for the investigative team, detectives, crime scene investigators and forensic scientist alike. The following morning I joined the detectives in court to see Barrett, Croke and the other defendants in the dock at the Central Criminal Court, the Old Bailey in London. Barrett was separate from the others and protected by prison officers.
His Honour Judge Michael Coombe, the presiding judge, gave credit to Croke for pleading guilty and thus saving the court valuable time, which would have resulted in his conviction in the face of overwhelming evidence had he not pleaded guilty. His victims had been terrified, he had taken families hostage, threatened them with explosive devices and discharged guns in the commission of his violent crimes. He was sentenced to twenty-three years’ imprisonment. There were gasps in the courtroom. Had he not pleaded guilty he could have expected a sentence of over thirty years from His Honour.
Barrett too was a dangerous and evil man but he was given credit for his assistance to the police since his arrest. He was sentenced to sixteen years’ imprisonment. Other defendants were given lesser but still significant terms of imprisonment.
Members of the investigation were commended by the trial judge when he was passed a hurriedly completed list. Kevin Shapland, Ken Grange and Dick Kirby were later commended by the Commissioner, and I by the Deputy Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. I ensured that letters of thanks were sent to Kevan and his team for their incredible effort and professionalism.
This supergrass investigation had been thorough and transparent. For the guilty there was nowhere to hide, for there is nowhere to hide.