Open Letter To Lord Justice Leveson

Dear Lord Justice Leveson,

I apologise for interrupting your hearings, I realise how important they are, and believe me, I would not have interrupted them if this matter were not even more important. My complaint does though concern your subject matter to a degree, because among other things I will be revealing how as long ago as 1996 a police officer passed confidential information from a closed police investigation to a journalist quite openly, information he had obtained from me under caution.

I will also be exposing a number of acts of police corruption over the years - supported with documentation - including both suppressing and destroying evidence, fabricating evidence, and using an undercover agent provocateur to incite a serious criminal act - murder. I have attempted to expose some of these activities in the past, but as you appreciate now if you didn’t when you started this inquiry, on some issues the police simply cannot be trusted. Especially when they are aided and abetted by bent lawyers in the CPS. I am prepared to trust a Lord Justice of Appeal, but not any plod, be he ever so senior.

I am familiar with the Contempt Of Court Act, 1981, and I realise too that to interrupt any legal proceedings is a serious offence which the presiding judge may deal with as he sees fit. I would point out though that if for you this is a somewhat novel experience, for me it is a retrograde step, because in December 1993, I was found in contempt of Parliament.

I have interrupted these proceedings first and foremost because I am at present unable to edit a website I am vain enough to consider to be of supreme importance for the rule of law in this country. This is a website I set up and have maintained for over 9 years; it is called IsMichaelStoneGuilty and was set up on behalf of the man who is now Britain’s longest serving miscarriage of justice prisoner. Michael Stone was convicted twice of the Chillenden Murders, the second time on the basis of a confession he is alleged to have shouted to another inmate through a prison wall. At his retrial, that was the sum total of the evidence against him, evidence that is so specious it is laughable. Evidence that was a new nadir for British so-called justice. Evidence which if applied uniformly throughout the criminal justice system could be used to incarcerate anyone for any offence trivial or Draconian.

Mr Stone’s appeal against his conviction is ongoing, in spite of the authorities losing - quote unquote - an exhibit, enhanced testing of which may lead to his acquittal, especially if DNA from Levi Bellfield is found on it.

Because of this ongoing appeal, I need to be able to work on this website. The reason I am unable to, is because on September 29 last year, three agents of the Gestapo known as the City of London Police arrested me and seized (read stole) my computer. They also seized my on-site back ups. They did this because a woman I had not at that point seen for over three years made an allegation against me, in particular that I had scanned and e-mailed her and a number of other parties photographs from her family album.

I was shown only part of her witness statement by these so-called detectives from the so-called Public Protection Unit. If they had done any detecting at all, they would have realised that this witness statement contained a number of claims that were demonstrably false. For example, the claim that I was the only person who had access to the photographs which were scanned is clearly not true, there were several, perhaps many other parties, at least four of whom had much stronger motives than me to do what the sender did.

If these so-called detectives had done any detecting at all, they would have realised that the computer they seized did not even exist the last time I met the so-called victim and had access to the photographs I was accused of scanning and sending her. This computer was purchased new from Dell in August 2009.

The photographs complained of were sent from a Hushmail account. I do not, or rather I did not at that time, have a Hushmail account. As I needn’t tell you, there is precious little anonymity on the Internet, although apparently Hushmail uses a fixed IP, and the point from which a Hushmail e-mail is sent can be determined only by an application to the Canadian courts.

The e-mail concerned - and there may be more than one - was sent on July 26 last year, more than two months before I was arrested. That means the police had plenty of time to apply for such a warrant, but clearly they did not and have not done this because if they had, they would have realised this e-mail was not sent from my computer.

When I was interrogated by these defectives - I will not use the sick police euphemism interviewed - they were not interested in anything I had to say but kept repeating the same question over and over and over again hoping I would give them the only answer in which they were interested. When they realised they were getting nowhere, I was bailed until December 14 and told my machine and other property would be retained until then. Without any consultation I was then rebailed until February. There are I suggest two reasons for this. One is that they may be intending to plant incriminating evidence on my computer, as happened to me before - bear with me, I will come to that. The other is that they may decide to trash the machine - as has happened before not once but on two occasions. The reason they may elect to do this latter is to cover up for the person or persons who actually sent these e-mails, a police officer or officers serving with another force. If you wish, I will give you more details about this in camera, but for the moment I want to tell you about the three previous computer seizures I have suffered since 1993, all by the Metropolitan Police, all on different pretexts, and none of them resulting in my being convicted of any criminal offence. The first seizure is also related to the aforementioned police officer disclosing confidential information to a journalist.

In May 1993, I was arrested by Detective Sergeant Chainey of Holborn CID after a false allegation of fraud by a man named Mike Whine, an unregistered agent of a foreign government. Chainey also seized my computer. It is possible that the initial complaint was a case of honest error; certainly DS Chainey realised within 2 or 3 hours that no criminal offence had been committed, because among other things he returned the bank book I had opened in connection with the account, however, he held onto the computer for six months, and when at last I was allowed to collect it, I found it had been trashed beyond repair. I believed at the time this had come about through heavy-handedness rather than malice. I do not believe that now.

As a result of that police raid and allegations that were bandied about at the time, I was the subject of a defamatory article in a scurrilous magazine called Searchlight, which was then edited by a man named Gerry Gable. On November 28, 1993, a Sunday morning, I was the victim of a politically motivated attack on my doorstep by three individuals, two of them armed with mallets. I was hospitalised. These assailants were almost certainly put up to this attack or even hired by Gerry Gable, although I cannot prove that. Because of this, I initiated legal proceedings against Mr Gable, and in fact served the summons on him at the Palace of Westminster, which resulted in an entire edition of Hansard being published just for me!

The following year I issued another writ against Mr Gable. After years of litigation, this action was finally settled to my satisfaction when he published a retraction and paid me £5,000. I should point out that I was far from the only person to be assaulted viciously after being libelled by Mr Gable’s magazine. In 1994, Michael Newland was attacked in his own home, and his hand broken. He was not a young man even then. There was also a potentially fatal attack on Mark Cotterill in the West Country, and an attempted attack on my colleague Mark Taha, and years later an attack on a Mr Robert Gertner. When Mr Newland was attacked I was so concerned that I went up to North London to meet the investigating officer, but although he thought there could be a connection, he said he was running only a local investigation.

Regarding the computer seizure, after the police discontinued their action, I brought a civil action against them for trespass of goods.

To give you some example of the mentality of the Metropolitan Police and their lawyers, this is worth digesting. They paid a thousand pounds into court, which I declined, and then another thousand. Counsel wanted me to press on, but I decided as a gesture of goodwill to accept and save costs. That is the last time I have ever been tempted to show any goodwill to either a police officer or anyone working for the police because after settling the action, their lawyers, including this mendacious bitch pictured here, spent over two years haggling about the costs.

The purpose of this was clearly to ensure that I didn’t receive a penny, and also to punish my legal team for acting for me.

After the bill was taxed, Lucy Humberston sat down and made 193 objections to it, (see below).

She turned up at the taxation hearing with a clerk, and they were both smirking and laughing, literally. Eventually, because of a no-nonsense judge, common sense prevailed, but I am reliably informed this is the way the police always operate: they never admit they are wrong, and do their utmost to make their victims pay, even as in this case at the cost of probably tens of thousands of pounds of public money. After all, why should they care? Returning to DS Chainey, you will see below, part of his signed witness statement.

When he made this for Gerry Gable, my civil action against the police was ongoing. The full statement contains details about the investigation, including things I told him about a certain David Irving, whom I had exposed (accidentally) as a Zionist agent. It was for this reason I believe that my computer was trashed. That machine contained confidential information relating to my investigations into Mr Irving, details that had not been backed up. At the time, computers were not the force they are today, and I back up all my material routinely and hold several off-site back ups. With your assistance, that is what will now be the undoing of the police officers who have made my life a misery for the past decade and more.

Although I can’t prove it, I have no doubt that DS Chainey was passing information to Mr Gable from 1993; it is also no coincidence that Mr Gable and the aforementioned Mr Whine are chums, to put it mildly.

Following the assault on my doorstep, I put in a claim for criminal injuries compensation. Earlier in the year I had been registered disabled due to a neck injury in October 1988; the November attack also injured my back permanently, although this injury did not come to light until September 1996 - of which more anon. It was many months before I could walk any distance without pausing to sit down, and I signed on for incapacity benefit, or whatever it was then called. I also proceeded with my libel action against Gerry Gable and his defamatory magazine, and in addition I sued his printer, his distributor and a number of self-styled radical bookshops.

One of these bookshops decided to plead innocent dissemination - as it was entitled to do - so I decided to visit the Centerprise Bookshop in North London to see just how innocent the people who run it were. The answer was not very. Among other things I found it stocking highly inflammatory literature, including pro-IRA publications - at that time the Provisional IRA was still classed by the British Government as a terrorist organisation. The shop also stocked two highly inflammatory magazines: Green Anarchist and Class War. The publishers of the former were later prosecuted successfully for inciting criminal acts; Class War openly incited violence against a number of prominent people, including High Court judges (like yourself) and what appeared in one issue to be a direct incitement to murder the prominent Conservative politician Michael Portillo.

I had no particular wish to see a criminal prosecution, but as the Centerprise Bookshop was funded heavily by public money I considered it my duty to draw this to the attention of the authorities, including the Charity Commissioners, which I did. I also published a pamphlet about what I had found and wrote to a number of prominent people, including the Jewish MP Gerald Kaufman, calling on them to take action. None of them did, so I published a satirical attack on them, and mailed the resulting pamphlet to a number of people, including over a hundred police stations and police officers. This publication was branded anti-Semitic, although ironically years later the same allegations that were made against me were also levelled against Gerald Kaufman and by the same people because of his principled stand for Palestinian rights.

As a result of complaints about this pamphlet, in August 1996 I was raided by the Metropolitan Police, who fortunately did not take my computer, but seized a large number of publications. I was granted bail while the Director of Public Prosecutions mulled over the wisdom of bringing a prosecution for my documented exposé of incitements to violence, lies and hypocrisy.

Meanwhile, Gerry Gable had been busy and had made a false complaint against me to a benefit snoop named Rita Broadway, who summoned me to her office, screamed and shouted, and demanded I account for every penny in my possession, including the criminal injuries compensation I had received for the November 1993 assault, and a great deal more besides. She also cut off my benefit, and in order to have it restored I filed a Judicial Review application, which as I was acting in person I was advised by the Crown Office - as it then was - to deliver to her in person. I did this, and she refused to accept the papers.

Later I wrote a long, detailed letter of complaint about her, which contained an unfortunate off the cuff reference to slitting her throat. In the meantime there was another development that shows how the police lie and lie and lie with total impunity. In September 1996, I was out running, something I had done my condition permitting since 1984. This particular evening I managed to run quite a way and turned into my local park where I saw two police vans on the other side. Being curious, nosey if you will, I ran over to it and passed it only to be pulled up by a police officer. His exact words were: “A female has been attacked, and I have [or I’ve got] two witnesses who said they saw you do it”. This came as news to me, and I got into a mild argument with him at which point I asked him to produce his two witnesses, who like his attack victim were a figment of his imagination.

What appears to have happened is that a young woman of Chinese extraction was walking her dogs in the park and had become aware, apparently fallaciously, of someone following her. I recognised the young woman concerned and it is possible she recognised me because once or twice when I was running about Alexandra Park in daylight her Doberman - that went by the name of Rambo - had chased after me. Like any red-blooded male I objected to being accused of attacking women, especially when no attack had taken place. The officer gave me a spurious warning about being careful when I was out running, and I took his number, went home and phoned my solicitor, who told me the police always say they have two witnesses.

After speaking to him, I wrote a strongly worded letter to Bromley Police. Now, this is very important, so please take note. Shortly after writing that letter I experienced an absolutely agonising attack of acute back pain, at Lewisham Hospital where I was X-rayed, it was revealed that I had two fractured, ossified vertebrae in my lower back, obviously the result of the November 1993 attack. I was advised to give up running, which I did forthwith. After I received a reply from Bromley Police (here), I wrote back to the officer concerned pointing this out, (a copy of this letter can be found here).

On November 1, I was arrested by one of the police who had investigated the pamphlet I distributed, Detective Constable Julian Nemeth, although in view of his treatment of me I prefer to call him simply Filth.

I was charged with two counts of witness intimidation - ie Rita Broadway - although at that time she was no longer a witness to anything. Later, these charges were altered, one was replaced with a charge of making a threat to kill with intent, while another charge was added of assault occasioning actual bodily harm.

The basis for this third charge was that a police officer had passed my letter to his colleague (Nemeth), who had faxed it to the so-called victim, who was so distraught at its contents that she suffered serious psychological damage and spent the next six months off work. She was still suffering from post traumatic stress disorder at the time of the trial when this chain smoking, crapulous harridan who had screamed and shouted at me a few months earlier turned up holding hands with her paramour and trembling like a frightened schoolgirl who had just been felt up by a dirty old man.

To stop me getting bail, the police manufactured all manner of lies. One was that I had stalked this woman, whatever that is suppose to mean. In fact, all the information I knew about her she had given to me herself, but the police simply refused to investigate my claims; they didn’t even bother to check her phone records, which would surely have shown she was lying. Another claim Nemeth invented was that I had posed as a court official - apparently to gain access to a public building. Again, this was a bare faced lie, I had simply been following orders from the Crown Office when I turned up at her office, and she, like the arrogant little bitch she was, refused to accept the legal papers or acknowledge service.

Most enlightening though was the claim he invented in collusion with the CPS that in September I had been stopped by the police in my local park where I had been following a woman, and had claimed to have been out running, but the police hadn’t believed this because I had been suffering from a bad back. Nemeth went much further than this though; he took statements from the two officers concerned, twisting their words or more likely colluding with them to put as bad a spin on things as possible. He also tried to adduce this non-evidence at trial along with the inference that I’d had a bottle of sulphuric acid in my pocket at the time. This came about because he had searched my bathroom - you’ll have to ask ask him why - and had found in it a bottle of weak solution sulphuric acid that had been recommended by a chemist to clean the toilet bowl.

If this non-evidence had been put before the jury it might have tipped them to convict. As things were, after six months on remand I was acquitted on May 1, 1997. The thing that really irked the police was that I had defended myself and in spite of the bigoted old bastard of a judge summing up for the prosecution - may Mr Justice Watts burn in everlasting Hell - the jury deliberated for six and three quarter hours before clearing me of all charges.

While I was on remand, these scum had tried to stop my housing benefit, which would have led to my being made homeless in spite of my acquittal. If it hadn’t been for my MP - as I acknowledged at the time - they would have succeeded.

The judge made it clear towards the end of the trial that if I had been convicted he would have sentenced me to the maximum ten years. And for what? For an off the cuff remark about a little tart who’d made my life a misery.

If the police had had a shred of human decency, things would have ended there, but there was much more to come. In the first instance, I was informed that I could collect much of the property they had seized from New Scotland Yard, so I arranged to do this, but when I got there they brought the pamphlets, books and other things they’d seized down in boxes, then decided they owned the boxes and began emptying my property onto the floor. There were three or four of them, all detectives and all behaving aggressively. It was an obvious and quite pathetic attempt to make me lose my rag and take a swing at one of them. This was in the foyer of New Scotland Yard, be it noted. I walked up to the receptionist and demanded to see a senior uniformed officer. At length I was permitted to take away my property in plastic bags. Needless to say this did not do either my neck or my back any good.

At trial, Nemeth had claimed I had obtained access to the so-called victim’s medical records, and knowing what he was capable of, I decided I had better set the record straight, so I wrote to both her doctor and her superior, a woman named Michelle Charles. Then I forgot about it. Five months later I received two summonses through the post under the Malicious Communications Act, a statute my solicitor informed me was introduced by an MP for his own benefit because his constituents were writing him rude letters.

I went to Horseferry Road Magistrates Court and decided again to defend myself. The result was that at trial, the prosecution amended the charges at the door, and Michelle Charles turned up and testified like a frightened little worm - and she really was a worm - the Stipendiary cleared me of one charge but convicted me of the other, and fined me. Curiously, Gerry Gable was present at court, having obviously been tipped off by Nemeth or some other bent copper. Perhaps you should issue a summons against him and ask him who?

I decided to appeal this conviction, which is where things started getting extremely nasty again. At a pre-trial hearing at Southwark Crown Court, where I had been tried on indictment and acquitted, I made an application then left the court and travelled up town. I won’t say where I went at this stage, but when I got there I signed in, and this record is almost certainly extant because I had made an appointment. The court hearing had been delayed, as court hearings often are; this will be significant.

Later that night, an even more bent detective than Julian Nemeth - if you can believe that - turned up at my flat - accused me of making a “menacing” phone call, and I was arrested again. This time I spent a total of five weeks in Brixton Prison before being convicted. When we arrived at Belgravia Police Station, DC Wright began asking me questions about two letters I had written to Michelle Charles - one of which was written in reply to a letter she had sent me. The following morning at court, unbelievably, she repeated the lie about my lying in wait for women in the local park using the same claim about the police not believing I had been running due to my back condition, and claiming I was “dangerous”, “a woman hater” and “a danger to women”. I admit freely that I hate her; as to being a danger to women, I have now lived at my current address for over 25 years and had been there 12 years at that time. And if the women of Sydenham are quaking in their beds, it is no fault of mine. Since I have lived here I have not been questioned by the police about any assaults on women, much less rapes or murders.

Incidentally, that other arch-liar Nemeth had made similar claims about me; at Horseferry Road when opposing bail he described me as “an unstable, dangerous individual”, a claim that he repeated at the trial. I would submit that the real unstable dangerous individuals here are these two and their ilk, namely men and women who fabricate evidence, suppress exculpatory evidence and perjure themselves in order to imprison and at times destroy innocent people like myself.

Because this so-called offence was triable only in the Magistrates’ Court, I was duly convicted of harassment; the Stipendiary Timothy Workman ruling it was “inconceivable” that anyone else had made that phone call. I was convicted in effect by virtue of res gestae, in other words the mere fact of the allegation meant that I must be guilty. This would have given these scum, filth and lowlife the power to have me thrown into gaol on a whim, anytime they wanted, and perhaps with more manufactured threats to kill that could have put me behind bars for several years. Under the circumstances, I had no alternative but to appeal this spurious conviction. The first hearing was held at Southwark Crown Court where the prosecutor was the same as at Horseferry Road, Martin Rutherford. By this time I had with a little persistance more than research made a discovery about public payphones. This is that calls from British Telecom phones were recorded on a central computer: the time, duration and destination of call. I worked out that the call I was alleged to have made was timed so that after I had left Southwark Crown Court, I would have been just about home. That is if I had gone home instead of into Central London. The proceedings had though been delayed, so at the time it was actually made, I was at or in the environs of Southwark Crown Court, and as I did not - and still to this day do not - own a mobile phone - if I could prove that I was there or thereabouts and obtain disclosure of all the phone records from the area, that would put me in the clear. It was obvious to me there had been a conspiracy to frame me, an idea that was ridiculed by Rutherford, although later he and even more so Wright would become parties to that conspiracy after the event.

The hearing for disclosure was heard by Judge Bathurst-Norman, and confident that the phone records would put me in the clear, I asked him to order the prosecutor to “nail his flag to the mast” - that was the exact phrase - by agreeing that if no phone call had been made to either of the numbers in question - 01399 046003 or 01399 048136 - between 11.20 and 11.50am on April 21, 1998, that would put me in the clear. Rutherford so agreed, and the judge using my phrase said something like “There you are, Mr Baron, he has nailed his flag to the mast”.

When the court ordered disclosure was given, it appeared that three phone calls had been made at the material time from a telephone outside the custody area in the building. One had been made to the Benefits Agency, another to Brixton Job Centre, and a third to a firm of solicitors. They had obviously all been made by the same individual in quick succession, probably someone who had been released from custody that morning, but at the next hearing, Rutherford claimed that I had made the call to the Benefits Agency and had it redirected to a different number. This he said was “additional evidence”, and the learned judge conveniently forgot what he had said at the earlier hearing about “nailing his flag to the mast”.

It may have been that which led to my arrest yet again, on September 24, 1998, as I left the court. This time the arresting officer was DC Graves of the local CID, who appeared to know nothing of what was going on, but that didn’t stop him seizing my computer and retaining it for eight months. I was accused of publishing a curious pamphlet which was credited to Judge Watts. I knew nothing about this. It appeared to be directed at Rita Broadway, again, and whoever was responsible had gone to considerable trouble to produce it. I was bailed pending further inquiries.

My appeal against the harassment conviction was heard by Judge Philpot sitting with two magistrates, and once again I acted in person. I had been in touch with the firm of solicitors whose number had been called from Southwark Crown Court the morning of the other phone call, and was told that they had no record of who might have called but that whoever it was had been represented by one of three barristers from a specific chambers. I wrote to all three of them and hand delivered the letters but received not one reply, possibly because by a remarkable coincidence they were based in the same building if not the same chambers as Rutherford.

At the appeal, I exposed DC Wright as a liar of the first order. Among other things she submitted a forged witness statement from a switchboard operator in Belfast; she had clearly not gone to Belfast to take it. Rutherford put the unsigned typed statement in evidence and said that he couldn’t justify the expense of flying her in to testify for 5 minutes, allthough he said nothing about the total expense of this state persecution. The CPS paid over a thousand pounds for a transcript to bring the initial Malicious Communications Act prosecution; I believe the exact figure was £1,040.00. DC Wright claimed this statement had been drafted by a typist, and that she herself was unable to type, a claim I found contemptible by a so-called detective in 1998. After the appeal, I phoned the Belfast office and managed to speak to the operator concerned, Rita Orr. She told me she had spoken to DC Wright but denied making a statement. However, when I told her who I was, she hung up on me. I contacted my MP about these lies, but she was treated with the same stonewalling and contempt as myself. When I cross-examined DC Wright at the appeal, I also asked her if she knew that phone calls from public payphones had been recorded; she admitted that she did but said she hadn’t mentioned this at the trial because she hadn’t been asked, if you can imagine that.

Martin Rutherford persisted with his claim that I must have phoned the Belfast switchboard from Southwark and somehow effected the transfer of the call not once but twice. When I challenged him to see if that were possible, he simply repeated his claim. Eventually, the court sided with me and ruled that I hadn’t made that call, as I damn well hadn’t, but incredibly Judge Philpot upheld the harassment conviction on the basis of two letters written five months apart. I am certain he did this only because he did not want me to sue for false imprisonment.

There were then two extraordinary developments. In November 1998, I was contacted by a woman who bought some of my publications; she turned out to be a police agent provocateur who offered me a gun to dispose of one of my persecutors. Not only would I still recognise her even today if we were to meet again, but she was kind enough to leave a paper trail. I have to say that I have tried to expose her before but to no avail, so to give you some incentive to pursue this inquiry, I won’t tell you whether or not I accepted her offer and took the gun. Nor what I did with it. That is if I did take it.

I tried to issue two summonses against DC Wright, but on November 18, 1998, when I laid the informations, the Stipendiary looked at my application, dismissed it summarily, and when I tried to reason with him, he told me to leave the witness box or he would have me removed physically.

When I told him that one of the summonses was for perjury he replied: “I hear perjury in this court every day, mainly [or mostly] from defendants. What’s your next point?” He grinned as he said this and he genuinely appeared to think my application was some sort of joke.

I spent five weeks in Brixton Prison on considerably less evidence than I laid before him, but he treated me like something he’d scraped off his shoe.

Later, I would receive the same cavalier treatment from a High Court Judge when I applied for a Judicial Review. Mr Justice Collins laughed in my face, a High Court Judge like you, literally laughed in my face.

Before that though, on New Year’s Day 1998-9, I received an anonymous letter apparently from someone at the Benefits Agency. It had been stencilled, and the writer made the extraordinary claim that a phone call had indeed been made at that time, from a phone box in SE26 near my home, and said further that DC Wright had been informed about this after the event, apparently sometime after I began the appeal proceedings, but that she had told the party or parties concerned to keep quiet. I was stunned, because by this time I had come to believe that no such phone call had in fact been made, and that the whole thing had been part of a plot by vicious, small-minded little women. It was indeed, but far bigger. Because of the nature of the information in this letter, there were at most half a dozen people who could have written it, in fact it was almost certainly written by or at the behest of the woman who had received the call, Nicola Popeley.

Following receipt of this letter I consulted my solicitor and Counsel, and we decided that I should attempt to validate its contents before passing it on to the police. As a result of that I spent 3 days walking around London SE26 collecting all the public payphone numbers; I found 39 in all. They are listed here.

When I contacted British Telecom they agreed initially to give me disclosure, then they went back on their word.

I kept getting stonewalled, in particular by a CPS lawyer named Hegarty, but when my solicitor took up the correspondence, the anonymous letter was collected from his office by a Detective Sergeant Nichols; I handed it to him personally. It was supposedly sent away for forensics, but nothing came of this. It was though the evidence in the letter that was important, and is. One of my requests to you is that you order disclosure of these phone records, which are archived, and I am confident that you will find a call was indeed made to one of the numbers specified from one of these public call boxes.

Should that be the case, that will be extremely strong evidence of a conspiracy to effect a malicious prosecution, and another conspiracy, by Detective Constable Elizabeth Wright, to pervert the course of justice.

Before I continue with my grievances, I would like to mention some other phone records, relating not to me but to Michael Stone.

In addition to the forensic evidence the authorities have lost - quote unquote - Mr Stone and I believe there is other evidence that would indicate he was nowhere near Chillenden at the time of the murders for which he was convicted.

At the time, he was dealing small quantities of controlled drugs, and for that purpose used certain public telephones. After going over his movements and racking his brain for years, he believes that on the day of the murders at the material time, or perhaps an hour or an hour and a half before them, he was at Rochester where he made a call or perhaps a number of calls from a particular phone box to one or several mobile phones. He can’t remember which, but if these calls are traced and confirmed, they will be compelling evidence that he was not at Chillenden, indeed was unable to get to Chillenden in time to murder Dr Russell and her daughter.

We contacted the Criminal Cases Review Commission about this, but were informed that the records from phone boxes date only to 2001. From my own, personal experience, they go back before that, including almost certainly to 1996.

Returning to my own narrative, and to the subject of fabricating evidence. DC Graves claimed to have found some incriminating evidence on my computer, and I was charged with harassment. When I appeared at Tower Bridge Magistrates Court, this charge was amended to inciting a person or persons unknown to commit grievous bodily harm with intent, which is about as strong a charge as they could bring. Fortunately for me though, if not for these schemers, they had to give some disclosure at this point, and they produced a witness statement - one - ostensibly from a police officer who claimed to have seized three copies of the offending pamphlet from a Big Issue seller on the Embankment. He did not arrest this man, but in less than 24 hours, the police had analysed the contents of this pamphlet, decided it constituted harassment, and traced it to me. This is the same force that took 18 years to bring to book 2 of the killers of Stephen Lawrence and then only maybe, a crime that was committed in front of a good many witnesses in a brightly lit street, yet they trace the publisher of this pamphlet just like that. Let me give you an alternative scenario: DC Wright was behind it.

After obtaining this disclosure, I consulted my legal team, and we drafted a letter to The Big Issue requesting they put us in touch with this paper seller. The paper replied to the effect that they had no one of that name on their books, and furthermore that there was no such badge number. Next time I appeared at court, the CPS dropped the case. After my computer was returned I had enough on my plate, so did not pursue the little matter of the fake witness.

Nothing happened until January 2000, then there was yet another development, I refer to the e-mail below.

When I received this, I freaked out - as will be evident from the annotation. Up until then I hadn’t been certain about the woman I had met previously, but now it was obvious that she had indeed been a police honey trap or whatever you want to call her. I contacted my solicitor who told me that if I reported this to the police they would probably seize my computer as evidence. Having suffered two such seizures, I didn’t want to go through the whole business again, and needed my computer. I did though make other inquiries. I was told by someone who knows about these things that this e-mail had been routed through New York, and when I contacted Microsoft I was told that the header must have been forged because Hotmail addresses can’t begin with numbers. These two facts indicate a degree of sophistication that far transcended the likes of DC Wright. If she had been a party to this, as I suspected and still do, she must have had serious assistance from someone both very high up and very skilled.

I decided to do nothing about it although I continued with my futile efforts to expose this whole sordid little scheme, but obviously somebody thought they might not be so futile and decided I needed to be taught another lesson, and in October 2001 I was raided yet again and not one but two computers were seized. There were actually 5 of them, they arrested in the street and then called two tech men to remove both my machines. The officer in charge was DC Taylor. I will spare you the sordid details but nothing came of this, and I was bailed. At this point I had had enough, and the next time I met DC Taylor, at Islington Police Station, I gave him a copy of the above e-mail and told him that if he wanted to follow it up I had the perpetrator’s address and a paper trail. I gave him this document in front of four other detectives. In October 2006, when I cross-examined him at Central London County Court, he denied ever having seen it.

The police held onto both my computers for months although I was eventually able to collect one of them - at my own expense - from Islington Police Station. They wanted me to take the other as well, but I insisted that I be able to test it in situ, and they had no compatible mouse, at least that was their excuse. Before I collected either computer I, or rather my solicitor, wrote to the police asking for a written guarantee that a) both my machines were in working order and b) that no data had been retained and no backups kept. Taylor replied to me personally. A copy of this letter can be found here.

Note his claims that no damage has been caused and no backups retained. When he wrote this letter, Taylor knew the machine had been damaged, almost certainly intentionally. What data the police wanted destroyed I have no idea, but by this time I had learned my lesson well, and if I lost any data in this raid, it was marginal. Taylor made two duplicitous attempts to return this machine to me without its being checked including turning up at Penge Police Station (about two hours late), where I was waiting with my solicitor. Again, I was unable to test the machine before it was returned so refused to take it. In the end I did take it back untested, and sure enough it was damaged beyond repair.

I decided to sue the police for both these raids; because I was acting in person, I thought I had best keep things simple, and settled for trespass of goods. I sued for £5,000. The police made a paltry payment into court, which I declined, and defended the case, which was heard over two days in October 2006. By this time, DC Taylor had relocated to Bradford, but they brought him down to testify. When I cross-examined him, he denied seeing the e-mail alluded to above - and thus perjured himself. It is possible you may actually find confirmation of this act of perjury at Islington Police Station if you act promptly. DC Taylor also said the computer which he and his goons had broken was broken already, and to prove this, the defence produced a technician who testified that this had indeed been the case. How did he know? He had examined the backups that DC Taylor had confirmed did not exist.

In his judgment, the Judge smiled sweetly as he said DC Taylor’s letter contained two claims that were clearly untrue - not that he had lied through his teeth. I was awarded £500 and a massive bill of costs, for which the police chased me, but when I replied, they decided that to pursue me for it through the civil courts would open a can of worms.

The significance of DC Taylor’s admission will not be lost on anyone who has ever had a computer seized by the police. They keep your data and use it for their own purposes, even criminal, purposes. I would ask My Lord that you take steps to ensure that all the data retained by the police in all these raids I have suffered has been destroyed, and that similar steps be taken on behalf of all the other, countless people who have suffered likewise.

My case may be exceptional but it is in no sense unique; over the years the Metropolitan Police and CPS have wasted literally thousands of man-hours and hundreds of thousands of pounds of public money in their pathetic, sinister, grubby little attempts both to destroy me and failing that, to make my life a misery. And for what? I have been the only person to suffer as a result of these actions, and contrary to the grotesque lies of Nemeth, Wright and their ugly friends in the CPS, I have never been a threat much less a danger to anyone. Any assertion to the contrary is yet another lie.

Coming right up to date, it is clear that the British police lie gratuitously all the time including perjuring themselves in both criminal and civil proceedings, that they do this with the full knowledge and at least lack of disapproval of both magistrates and learned judges, and that this has to stop. I will say further that if DC Hussain, DC Fisk or any of their goons claim to have found anything on my computer that shouldn’t be there, like recipes for ricin or plans of the local bank vault, anything, that this has been planted on it. And now you know enough to understand my words are anything but frivolous.

I would ask further that you order City of London Police to return my computer so that I can continue to work on the case of Michael Stone; this is unfortunately the only data I do not have backed up.

It is clear that the detectives or rather the defectives who seized it are not acting in good faith; they have done little or no detecting, and they claim to be from the Public Protection Unit. I am a member of the public; they have not protected me. Nor have they protected the woman who received an e-mail which may have shocked her but caused her no actual harm. The police, in particular DCs Hussain and Fisk, have also forced me to make public details that I would not have made public, in particular the truth about her sister’s tragic death, because it is clear to me that a member or members of another police force sent it with malice aforethought intending to cast suspicion not on myself but on someone else, and that I am in this instance the totally innocent sap who has been caught in the middle.

I apologise again for disrupting your court, but this is a matter of public importance as I am sure you will agree, and by my actions here today I have obtained maximum publicity without doing anyone any actual damage. I would ask again that you do the following:

Order City of London Police to return my computer intact.
Order disclosure of the requisite telephone records for Rochester for July 9, 1996, which may well prove that Michael Stone is innocent of the Chillenden Murders, not that I concede he was ever proved guilty of them in any meaningful sense, rather he is a victim of what I call the theory of blanket dismissal.
Order the requisite discolusure of phone records for April 21, 1998 as detailed which will prove that I was the victim of a criminal conspiracy.
Investigate the entrapment operation against me.

Make whatever recommendations to the Government you deem necessary to curb the excesses of Britain’s police, who as the murders of James Ashley, Harry Stanley and now Mark Duggan show, are a law unto themselves.

As for this contempt of court, please feel free to pass whatever sentence you feel.

I will leave you though with one final thought. If DCs Hussain and Fisk had had their way, I would not have been able to present any of this evidence to you, including of the incitement to murder sent me by that police agent provocateur, because they would have seized the lot, and as with the seizure effected by DC Taylor and his gang, its existence would have been denied, I would have been written off as a crank or a man with an axe to grind, and would have been blamed for trashing my own computer using a backup of my data that didn’t exist.

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