A TOUGH CHILDHOOD SAW STEPHEN GILLEN, 53, TURN TO CRIME. NOW, HE WANTS TO STOP OTHERS FALLING INTO THAT LIFE
As the ferry rolled across the Irish sea, my small hand clutched the handle of my suitcase. Nine years old, I was heading to London to live with my biological mum.
The trouble was, she was pretty much astranger. Mum had been just 17 when she had me. She’d split up with my dad afew months later, and I’d been sent to live with family in Belfast. But now, my surrogate mum Aunt Madge had died of cancer, and Iwas being sent back to London to live with my birth mum. I’d been agood kid, but now it felt as if everything Iloved had been taken away.
I became deeply angry, and my mother and Ifought like cat and dog. Eventually, Iended up in care. Some of the homes were brutal. Iwas beaten and locked in aboiler room with rats overnight. Ibecame even angrier, regularly running away and breaking into places to sleep.
At 14, Iwas given three months in ayouth detention centre for stabbing another kid during afight. By 15, Iwas astreet kid, desperate for a family, but the one Ifound was an East End gang who offered gifts, praise and achance to be someone. “You can’t trust outsiders, but we’ll always have your back,” the older gang members drummed into me.
At 16, Igot in another knife fight and got 12 months in Feltham. Iwas locked up yet again at 18. Each time, Imade even more criminal contacts. Iwas soon involved in violent robberies on security vans as well as wage snatches from banks, as it was all cash in those days. The first time I ended up at the Old Bailey accused of abank robbery, I got off. The second time, I got two-and-a-half years in Brixton for conspiracy to commit robbery and various firearms offences. Again, I got to know other notorious criminals inside, like the Brink’s-Mat robbery guys. When Igot out, crime was all Iknew, so Iwas straight back to all the craziness. But this time, Scotland Yard was watching more closely.
BEHIND BARS
It was coming up for Christmas 1991 when we robbed a counting house, where they collected the money from local betting shops. It was late afternoon and already dark when Iheard the cry of, “Armed police!” Idon’t know how many guns were trained on me as Iran, desperately trying to avoid the shot Iwas sure would come. But there was no escape and this time the charges were really serious –as I’d tried to flee, my gun had fired two shots. Iswore in court that it was an accident, but Igot 14 years, plus another three for conspiracy to commit robbery, possession of afirearm with athreat to endanger life, and other firearms offences, to be served consecutively – 17 years in total. Aged just 21 at the time, it felt like a life time.
From the start, I did
