This week’s “London Boy Film” blog by Johnny Mack is the concluding part to his own, true life and harrowing story of police injustice !! Of being arrested at gunpoint for a crime he had not committed, in front of his own kids, to then finding out that his wife has also been arrested, and all this carried out by a police force armed with no more evidence than some would say a long, petty and sadistic memory !! …..and at what cost? Who pays? I’ll leave it for Johnny to tell you:
Injustice = Miscarriage | The Tragic End
Being completely naked and having a size twelve boot pressed down on your windpipe isn’t much fun. Nor is having a submachine gun pressed so hard to the side of your temple that it leaves a lasting indent of a gun barrel. You think that the recipient of such police treatment would be a terrorist, murderer or a child-killing rapist. In my eyes I would be the first to agree that those types deserve that sort of reception when being arrested.
However the powers that be had decided that I Johnny Mack warranted a reception of that calibre.
The big question I hear you ask is why did he get that cruel treatment? Some of you may say. “Well what does he expect, after all he is a gangster?” Some of you will presume the police had every right to come bursting through my front door with guns drawn its acceptable. But some of you may say “Let’s hear this geezer out first before we make an opinion.”
You are all right to think what you like; it isn’t my intention to sway any you from your thoughts and opinions. I have learned over the years that it is indeed none of my business what anyone thinks of me. Everyone is entitled to have an opinion, regardless of what it is. My only intention in writing this blog is to bring out the truth about something that happened to me many years ago. That saying “What goes round comes round” comes to mind, as I get further into this story.
It was complete and utter mayhem inside my flat that winter’s morning. There were now lots of uniformed officers trudging all over the place pulling everything to the floor in their wake. The armed response unit having done their job of restraining me were now putting away their weapons. I was still naked flat out on my front with handcuffs restraining my arms behind my back. They were pulled so tight that my hands were swelling up and going purple from lack of blood circulation.
My arms were used to pull me to my feet; the pain I experienced was so bad I nearly went through the roof. As I was screaming my head off in agony I glimpsed my eldest son and daughter looking on at the treatment I was receiving. (Their poor little terrified faces still haunt me to this day.) The police were trying to get a pair of jeans on me so that they could remove me from the house. Even that simple task they couldn’t get right. I ended up being dragged down the stairs then across the estate with my balls exposed to all and sundry. And believe me it was bloody freezing which added more embarrassment to my situation.
Now I’m squeezed between to fat coppers in the back of a squad car still with my hands cuffed behind my back. I was in so much pain that, if it weren’t for the fact that I am one stubborn bastard, I would have begged them to release the cuffs. But my pride wouldn’t allow me to give these bastards the satisfaction of me asking. When I did eventually have the cuffs removed it took more than three days to regain feeling in both hands. I still had no idea what I was being arrested for. By law I should have been given a copy of their search warrant and read my rights when being arrested. But of course these bastards thought I didn’t deserve the correct procedures and so the mind games began. As we are pulling into the back of Shanklin police station the detective sergeant complete with a Jack Frost hat and moustache turns, smiles and says “Armed robbery” nothing more. My first thoughts were that someone from my past had turned super grass and now I was part of the round up of those named. My conscience was clear because I hadn’t committed any crimes here on the rock so therefore on that basis I had nothing to worry about, or so I thought. But all of a sudden it became crystal clear why this was happening to me. Like a bombshell striking its target, it dawned on me that a few years earlier I had been threatened by the police not to come back to the rock. This threat came after I got nicked for flooding the place with counterfeit notes. For those of you that have been following my blog know I had been arrested, sentenced and done my time for that crime. But now it was dawning on me that the sentence I received for that crime wasn’t enough to satisfy the police. They were now intent on following through with their threat which was to make my life hell if I stepped foot on the island.
The drink driving offence had blown my alias and they now knew who I was and where I lived. But in all fairness I never believed they would follow through with their threat. At the time I thought it was just angry coppers with resentments making idle threats, which at that time was common. But to actually go through with their threats was a shock to the system to say the least. Where I come from in London, if a gangster got a not guilty at court the coppers would treat it like a game of cat and mouse. The law would bide their time, use different tactics and in the end eventually get their man. But what was about to happen to me, even the London police wouldn’t stoop to those levels to get their man. Even if the gangsters who persistently outwitted the police; they would wait their time and play them like a game of chess until they got him. But at the end of the day whatever happened on both sides of the fence, there was always that underlying respect for each other. In most cases they wouldn’t go to those extremes of threatening to make someone including their family’s life a living hell.
Well the Isle of Wight police did stoop to those levels and my family and I were about to get a taste of living hell.
Most of what went on while I was in their custody is explained in my second autobiography “Landed on the Moon” so I won’t go into too much detail. However what I will tell you is that I was being arrested for an armed robbery on a local post office. At the time I had no transport, not even a bike and whereas my wife did not drive we used public transport to get about. (Basically we were skint!)
When I was being interviewed I was refused legal representation but I went ahead with it because, for once I was completely innocent. I had nothing to hide and only wanted to get this out of the way as quick as possible. They gave me details about the armed robbery, such as the getaway driver was a woman. They told me the time and date of the robbery and in return I gave them the perfect alibi of where I was at that specific day and time. And that was, I had been in a dentist chair receiving treatment seventeen miles away at the exact time of the robbery. I explained I had no transport and that my wife did not drive. She also had an alibi for the time of the robbery, which was, she was at home with our three kids along with my mum and dad. My parents had popped in to drop off Christmas presents for the kids and stayed for more than two hours.
After me telling them where I was at the time of the robbery I knew they would check with the dentist. Once that was confirmed I thought I would be released and allowed to go back home. But no that was not to be the case and it wasn’t long before I realised they were seriously gunning for me.
As far as I knew my wife and kids were at home while our flat was being turned upside down. But I was about to get a nasty shock when the Detective Sergeant on the case stuck his head in through the hatch of my holding cell.
I asked him what he wanted and with the biggest smirk a face could contort he said. “By the way I forgot to mention that we have nicked your wife and you’re kids are going to be put into care”
My reaction was fierce to say the least because she was completely innocent as I was. He walked off laughing to himself knowing he had hurt me badly, to the point that I was in tears. The very thought of her banged up in a police cell was to me, like hell warmed up and I could do nothing. Mad thoughts of my kids being taken screaming into foster care were whirling through my mind; I was a broken man at that point.
I insisted on having my solicitor present because it was obvious they had no evidence against me. But those slippery bastards found some wine bottle cleaner in crystal form while searching my house. They claimed it was drugs and therefore I was to be charged with possession of drugs with intent to supply.
To cut to the chase with this story, I was taken to a special court at 8pm on Christmas Eve. There they asked the court to remand me to prison so that they could get tests done on the bottle cleaner. However my solicitor was having none of it and told the court that in all his years serving the court he had never witnessed such treatment to a man.
The court gave me bail in the end and told the police to get the tests done ASAP. I was so relieved to get bail and only wanted to see my wife and family. Arriving home I found my wife in tears and her dress covered in blood. She was so upset that she couldn’t talk to me and locked herself in the bathroom.
I found my kids huddled together in the front living room amongst the wreckage the police had left behind. The Christmas tree had been snapped in two and all the kid’s presents were opened and strewn all over the floor. Some had been trodden on and were in a thousand pieces. I thought, how could anyone be so cruel because my kids were in the room as they ripped their presents apart, fucking animals!
The next shock came when I realised my wife and I had no clothes, the police had taken them for forensic testing. To hammer the nail into my coffin they also took all our Christmas money, again for forensic tests.
Eventually my wife came into the living room after cleaning herself up. She told me of her nightmare of being interrogated by those heartless bastards. When they arrested her she had just realised she was pregnant. They never gave her anytime to dress when they took her. All she had on was a loose fitting green dress and a pair of sandals. She never had a chance to put any underwear on or even a warm coat. After the bastards interrogated her and put her back in the cells she miscarried our unborn child. She was bleeding badly but she was too embarrassed to ask a male copper for a sanitary towel. She was in one hell of a mess and didn’t realise what was happening to her. In the end she got the attention of a female cleaner who gave her a towel. But because she had no underwear she could not hold it in place and spent the next four hours with her legs tight together.
When she got home the miscarriage came to it’s peak and what was left of our child went down the loo.
Did my wife or I deserve to be treated in this way…? No we did not, in fact no one deserves that type of treatment, not even an animal.
To know the full story you’ll find it in my book ‘’Landed on the Moon” available from Amazon and my own website.
Stay tuned for other instalments of the life and times of Johnny Mack and believe me I have plenty to tell.
Ta-la for now guys