Bonded by Blood (10 page)

Concerned for his safety and disgusted by such behaviour, Nipper began to distance himself from the trio and they soon noted the fact. In an effort to sever all links, Nipper told Tate he needed his flat for himself. Reluctantly, Tate moved back in with his partner. This caused further resentment, and relations between the men began to fester.

The inevitable confrontation came one weekend when Tate, Tucker and Nipper went into a 7-Eleven store in Southend. Nipper threw a bread roll at Tate, who retaliated by throwing a cake at Nipper. The three men were all high spirited and were soon enjoying a full-on food fight in the shop. The male assistant kept telling them to stop, but they just got more and more carried away. Eventually, the assistant had had enough and told them he was going to call the police. Tate pushed the man and then ripped the phone out of the wall, shouting, ‘You shouldn’t say things like that!’ Tucker said they would pay for the damage, but as they were talking, the police arrived. Tucker and Tate walked off down the street and Nipper was left to face the music. It was no big deal for people like them. They thought it was all a big laugh.

The following Sunday, Donna Garwood, Tucker’s teenage mistress, was trying to get in touch with him. She couldn’t ring Tucker at home because she knew he would be with Anna Whitehead, his long-term partner. Tate was at home with Sarah, so Garwood couldn’t call and ask him to contact Tucker either. Garwood, not for the first time, felt isolated and grew increasingly frustrated.

Tucker had installed Garwood in a small, one-bedroom flat that Tate owned in Basildon so that he effectively had 24-hour access to her. Being just a teenager, Garwood felt lonely and unable to cope when Tucker was not around. In order to try and alleviate the situation, Tate had moved a prostitute he knew named Paula into the flat so Garwood would have company. Paula was 18 and had just come out of prison with a fair amount of emotional baggage, not least her drug problem, but Tate had warmed to her. He used to call her ‘Wild Child’. Such were his feelings for Paula, he eventually told her she was no longer allowed to work as a prostitute. Unfortunately for Donna, Paula rarely stayed at the flat.

Desperate to hear from Tucker, Garwood decided to telephone Nipper, who was at home but, unknown to her, asleep in bed. When Garwood asked Nipper, who was annoyed at being woken, if he had seen Tucker, true to form, he was sarcastic. ‘He’s probably at home giving his old woman one up the arse,’ he said. Nipper hadn’t said it maliciously. You could never get a straight answer out of him. He was always joking.

Feeling humiliated, Garwood couldn’t wait to tell Tucker. When she did finally contact him, Garwood made it sound as though Nipper had said it with some venom. She told Tucker that Nipper had no respect for him.

The next time I saw Tate and Tucker, they didn’t mention the phone call. But they did claim that Nipper had grassed them up to the police about the 7-Eleven incident. They said they were going to make him pay.

Tate had retained a key for Nipper’s flat after he had been politely asked to leave. Over the next few days, Nipper began to notice that some of his possessions were going missing, despite there being no evidence of a forced entry into his home. Unknown to Nipper, Tucker, Tate and Rolfe were going to his flat when he was not there and helping themselves to items Garwood and Paula required for their flat. When Nipper telephoned Tucker and Tate about the thefts, they denied all knowledge and maintained a friendly attitude towards him. So much so, they attended a party at the flat the following weekend.

When Nipper was tidying up on the Monday evening, he noticed that his kettle, toaster, tea towels, bath towels, iron, even food out of the fridge, were missing. Feeling dejected and the worse for wear following the party, Nipper went back to bed where he remained until the Wednesday morning. When he got up, he surveyed the mess once more and began to tidy up. As he was doing so, his front door opened. Tucker, Rolfe and another man walked in.

‘All right, Tone,’ Nipper said.

‘All right, Nipper, where’s my gun?’ Tucker replied. Two weeks earlier, Tucker had hidden a silver 9 mm handgun in Nipper’s flat for safe keeping.

Nipper went into his bedroom and returned with the gun, which he handed to Tucker. As soon as he did so, Tucker gripped Nipper’s face with his left hand, shoved him against the wall and lifted him off the ground. Tucker then rammed the barrel of the gun into Nipper’s temple and began screaming, ‘You little cunt! You little cunt! Fuck my bird up the arse! Fuck my bird up the arse! I’m going to teach you a lesson.’

After a few seconds, Tucker dragged Nipper into a bedroom and threw him on the bed. Tucker kneeled astride him and kept stabbing the gun in his head, all the while screaming, ‘Fuck my bird up the arse, I’m going to show you what this can do!’ Tucker’s eyes were bulging and he was frothing at the mouth. Tucker was clearly out of his mind on drugs. Nipper told me later, ‘All that was going through my mind was “I won’t see my sisters grow up” and “I won’t see my girlfriend again, I’m going to be killed here.”’

Tucker continued to rant incoherently. He snatched Nipper’s necklace from him and said he also wanted any jewellery his girlfriend owned. Nipper lay motionless on his back, repeating over and over again, ‘OK, Tone. OK, Tone.’ Nipper thought he had got through to Tucker because he suddenly stopped and put the gun in his jacket’s inside pocket. But when Tucker brought his hand from inside his jacket, the gun had been replaced by a butcher’s meat cleaver.

‘You have got to pay, you cunt, you have got to pay!’ he shouted. ‘Your hand or your foot, which one do you want to lose, which one?’ Tucker allowed Nipper to sit up on the edge of the bed. Nipper closed his eyes and held out his right hand.

After ten seconds, nothing had happened so Nipper opened his eyes again. Tucker stood before him holding the meat cleaver with a manic grin on his face. He put the weapon in his jacket and walked out of the room.

Foolishly, Nipper jumped up and shouted, ‘What the fuck have I done, Tone?’

‘Leave it, let him calm down,’ the third man in the room said as he grabbed hold of Nipper’s arm.

‘I’ve done no wrong, he’ sacunt,’ Nipper protested, pushing the man away and trying to grab Tucker, who immediately pulled out the cleaver and swung it towards Nipper’s head. Rolfe and the other man intervened and bundled Nipper back into the bedroom. Nipper was told that if he wanted to live, he would have to leave it and let Tucker calm down. Nipper slumped on the bed in shock and total disbelief at what had happened. The three men left.

Nipper turned to Tate, the man he had once considered a friend, for help. None was forthcoming. When Nipper rang him, he was told, ‘You’re a cunt. You insulted Tucker’s woman and now you are going to die.’ Nipper put the phone down and rang Tucker in the hope the drugs had worn off and he had calmed down.

‘Have you sorted this out yet, Tone, what is going on?’ he asked.

‘Sorted what out?’ replied Tucker, ‘You’re a piece of fucking shit.’ Nipper asked what it was he had done. ‘You told my woman I fuck her up the arse.’ Nipper denied he had ever said such a thing to Tucker’s partner. ‘So you’re calling her a fucking liar now, are you?’ Tucker replied.

Nipper knew that it was an argument he was never going to win. Tucker told Nipper that he would be visiting him at his home that afternoon to sort it out, and then the phone went dead. Fearing for his life, Nipper went to the Army and Navy store in Southend and purchased a combat knife. He then telephoned a man to whom Tate had introduced him and who sold guns. Nipper told the man he had a problem and he needed a gun as soon as possible. When the man was told who the ‘problem’ was with, he said he wanted nothing to do with it and put the phone down.

That night, Nipper slept in his car because he was too frightened to return to his home. The next morning, after looking up and down the street for Tucker’s, Tate’s or Rolfe’s cars, he entered his home via the back door. To his horror, he saw that the place had been ransacked. His TV, video, camcorder, microwave and clothing had all been taken. Anything that had been left was slashed, smashed or smeared with excrement. Even the walls and doors had huge holes kicked in them. Nipper was outraged. He rang Tucker and demanded to know where his stuff was.

‘I want my fucking stuff back, you wanker. I’m going to fucking kill you,’ he shouted.

Tucker didn’t reply, he just laughed at Nipper. The line had been crossed now. Nipper knew he had to arm himself because Tucker would kill him when he found him. Nipper rang another man who bought and sold guns for the criminal fraternity, but when he heard who was involved he too declined to have any further involvement. That night, Nipper once more slept in his car, but he was no longer feeling afraid. He was filled with anger and a desire for bloody revenge.

The following morning Nipper was advised by a friend to purchase a bulletproof vest because word had got around that Tucker, Tate and Rolfe were going to shoot him. The friend also mentioned he knew where Nipper could obtain a machine gun, but Nipper could not afford the asking price. The only other weapon available was a .22 revolver that was at best useless for the task in hand, but Nipper purchased it regardless.

On the Friday night, Tate and Rolfe came down to Raquels. After talking about this and that, they asked me if I had seen Nipper. I told them he hadn’t been in the club for a while. They said they wanted to check if any of his friends were in, so they walked around inside for about 15 minutes before leaving. Tate rang back later that night. He was obviously out of his head. He asked me if Nipper had turned up. I could hear him banging, as if he was punching a wall. He was shouting, saying that he was going to kill Nipper, and if he couldn’t get hold of him, he would do his family. There wasn’t a lot I could say to Tate. I just told him I’d pass on the message then put down the phone.

Nipper eventually managed to acquire a double-barrelled shotgun with which he decided to confront his tormentors. Nipper hid in a cupboard in his flat and waited with the shotgun resting on his lap. When nobody had shown up by 3 a.m., he went to lie on what remained of his mattress. At 6 a.m. the phone rang and Nipper answered it.

‘Nipper?’ Tate whispered.

‘Hello, Pat,’ Nipper replied, ‘why are you doing this to me?’

‘Don’t worry, mate, it’s all sorted out now,’ Tate reassured him. ‘We are going up to London to sort a bit of business. Give me a call around midday and Tony and I will come around and see you.’

Nipper sensed that he was being set up, but he didn’t say anything to alert Tate to the fact. He simply said, ‘OK, goodbye,’ and then jumped up, grabbed the shotgun and ran out to his car, where he had the .22 revolver. As he reached the car door, Tucker’s car screeched to a halt in the road and the occupants jumped out. They did not see Nipper, who had crouched down at the side of his vehicle. Nipper watched as they ran to his home and kicked open the front door. After a few minutes, they walked back out of the flat and Nipper stood up.

Tucker saw Nipper and the shotgun that was pointing towards him and Rolfe. Without saying a word, Tucker and Rolfe turned and ran. Nipper gave chase, but Tucker and Rolfe were in their car and speeding away before he could reach them. He went back into the flat and found a note written in Tate’s handwriting. ‘Nipper, don’t let us lose all respect for you. I’m your mate, we want to help you.’

Nipper telephoned Tate, who asked him why he had laid in wait with a gun. ‘Because you lot were going to fucking kill me,’ Nipper replied.

‘No, we just want to help you,’ Tate said.

‘So why kick my fucking front door in then?’ Nipper asked.

There was no reply. Tate put the phone down. Unbeknown to Nipper and Tate at that time, after running away, Tucker and Rolfe had gone to the police and made a statement about Nipper confronting them with ‘what looked like a sawn-off shotgun’. So much for wanting to kill Nipper for being a grass.

The following day, I telephoned Tucker, but, unusually, his number was unobtainable. He was due to hold his birthday party at a snooker hall in Dagenham that Sunday and I had been invited. I was going to tell him that I couldn’t make it, but as his phone was unobtainable, I decided to leave it and try later.

At work that night, the doormen were telling me various stories about what was happening regarding Nipper Ellis. I was surprised to hear that even Nipper’s father had been threatened. Tate, they said, was going berserk. That was the reason why I didn’t fancy going to Tucker’s party. I didn’t want to listen to hours and hours of what he and Tate were and were not going to do to Nipper. I rang Tucker’s house and left a message on the answering machine saying I was unable to go, as I had fallen ill. I later learned that only 20 people had turned up. I was obviously not the only one noticing the decline in Tucker and Tate’s behaviour. A year earlier, there had been nearly 200 people at his birthday party.

On Monday, 21 November, I was contacted by two Basildon detectives, who said they needed to see me quite urgently. Because I was the head of security at Raquels I had to maintain some form of civil relations with both the police and the council. My gut instinct was to tell them I had no desire to talk to them, but Tucker and I would then have been out of Raquels and other clubs sooner rather than later, so reluctantly I agreed to see them.

When we met, they asked me if I had heard anything at all about Pat Tate being shot. I said I was not even aware that he had been shot. They also asked me if Craig Rolfe had been up to anything in the past few days and if Tony Tucker drove a black Porsche. I said he didn’t, he had a BMW. They asked me if I knew anyone who had a black Porsche. I said I didn’t. They said they knew I was mistaken because they had been watching me talking to a man in a black Porsche a few nights earlier. I wasn’t being very helpful, so they said I could go and they would be back in touch.

I immediately contacted Tucker. When I told him the police had been asking questions about Tate and Rolfe, he was very keen to hear what they had to say. He asked me to meet him as soon as possible. Less than an hour later, Tucker was telling me what had been going on over the weekend. He denied the problem with Nipper had arisen over comments made to Garwood and insisted it was because Nipper had grassed them up over the 7-Eleven incident. Tucker said on Sunday Tate had been at home getting ready for the birthday party. He was in the bathroom when somebody threw a brick through the window. Tate peered outside and Nipper opened fire from close range with a revolver. Tate put his right arm up to shield his face and the round hit him in the wrist, travelled up his arm and smashed the bones in his elbow. The gunman fled and Tate was taken to hospital. ‘When Tate gets out, Nipper’s going to die,’ Tucker said.