ࡱ> 9;678  bjbj 4GFFl %0:$$$$$$$$&S)z%-%;%$$<`bʮBDZT$Q%0%\,)d))L%%%)F O: ROUGH COPY 21st April 2009 Kirk v South Wale Police Witness Statement of Maurice John Kirk 1st Action CF6141159 MC65 2nd Action CF101741, 3rd Action CF204141 Avon and Somerset Constabulary Police harassment of me, which also means my friends and family, matured over a period of years, in the early 1970s, following a number of expensive investigations and police prosecutions involving drug running, firearms, assault on police, theft, fast cars, motor bikes and low flying aeroplanes light on paperwork, allegedly. I recall going before numerous magistrates and at least seven or eight Jury Trials with Crown Court judges sufficient to obtain an informed view as to the integrity or shear lack of it as I witnessed the daily games lawyers play, driven by avarice, during my apparent success with fifty two criminal charges out of seventy six, nearly all trumped up by the Avon and Somerset Police. I say apparent success well I have been proved quite wrong and been made to suffer far beyond the outcome had I, at the time, pleaded guilty to the lot. The British judicial system, I have witnessed in intricate detail, is so sick to the core that if someone wins too many cases, brought by the police, he or she is immediately at risk of being short listed on the Police National Commuter for daily surveillance and from then on targeted with an apparent endless supply of public recourses for the purpose. No matter where he or she chooses to move away to, whether it is the Channel Islands, South Wales, Highgrove House, simply to post a letter or even to the legitimate use of a farmers field near Crawford, Texas, the bureaucratic machine will still follow, fuelled by vengeance. The selected gear kicks in and while seemingly accountable to no one but Their Maker, for what they choose do next, some one horse town police officer arrests and jails the victim. I am a witness to all this conduct as I have experienced it, chapter and verse, all reliant on excessive police surveillance and a malleable magistrate for convictions, however trivial. Convictions mean profit and promotion even if all started on a pack of lies. I have researched many other peoples cases involving police harassment and victims of police conduct in my capacity as chairman of the Guernsey Legal Aid Association. Now, through the powers of cyber space it allows me instant communication on this subject worldwide. I have witnessed, time and time again, the same pattern emerge as set out in my written complaints to my Member of Parliament, John Smith MP, of the widespread deceit right across the British judiciary which, if you are not lucky enough to be in the club or you have crossed someone in the past, you are liable for daily persecution, as I was when I lived in South Wales. The same culprits go on, unpunished, for basic things as failed disclosure of evidence all chanting in unison that it is all in the good name of Her Majestys Prerogative. In England there was often no compensation, not even enough to cover the bus fares to and fro from court. Nor could I find a lawyer to take on the police without first depositing huge sums of tax paid money. I tried it, once, in Bristol only to witness my hard earned money being shared out with The HM Partnership, The spoils of war they call it, even though I had won the Judicial Review hearing in The Royal Courts of Justice, London. Police surveillance and malfeasance of the respective public bodies, as I have witnessed the HM Attorney General, by leak of HM internal memos, all go hand in hand once one obtains a criminal record, justified or otherwise. I was no exception and a witness to it and have the documentation to prove it but who will listen? For example, trivial matters, fabricated by both the Avon and Somerset Constabulary and South Wales Police, were used against me by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons, following the police complaint of January 2001 by an Inspector Collins concerning an injured dog believed to have fallen over a cliff. The only purpose of the complaint by the police was in order to have my name removed from the register. Why? In my capacity, as a veterinary surgeon in general practice, I was privileged in being made aware of confidential matters from both within Barry Police Station and local judicial system from well wishing and grateful clients in my surgeries in Cardiff, Barry and Llantwit Major. This accounted for the high success rate in quashed convictions, where ever I lived as long as I remained in veterinary practice. My daily environment for information gathering, whether it be from qualified or absolute professional privilege, between veterinary surgeon and client, was immediately lost once my name was removed from the veterinary register on 29th May 2002. Unlawful conduct by both RCVS lawyers and the South Wales Police, during 2001/9, is well documented as proof of their conspiracy reliant on malfeasance by flagrant disregard for statute law by many entrenched in their cosy environment of the British Judicial System. Police information about their surveillance came from the most unlikely sources, not all my clientele. Police surveillance and lose talk in police canteens etc soon made the Taunton police well aware of their problem. There was only course available to them to subdue the haemorrhage from within. The thirty year police harassment had started and it was to strike his veterinary practice, his income and vocation from whatever quarter a professional man was most vulnerable. Outrageously written inaccurate newspaper reports dominated. Rarely did they publish the wins and definitely never the corruption from within HM Partnership, repeatedly proved in court. I would invite the Press to attend court, identifying how I would win but far more importantly, indicate how I would prove perjury by the usual small band of police officers you will find in any police force. If the Press were already in court on another case, having received my brief for the makings of a good story, I would watch with amusement as the spineless or so I thought early on, would scurry away trying not to look at me straight in the eye. I later found out that well meaning reporters were gagged by the enemy. It was for that reason I set up my own website,  HYPERLINK "http://www.kirkflyingvet.com" www.kirkflyingvet.com and  HYPERLINK "http://www.wacl.org.uk" www.wacl.org.uk to publish the suppressed facts, for what I had stumbled on, during my defence, which was far more serious than the consequences of some bitter bent bobby burning the mid night oil over me. High Court judges quickly had the website closed down, until I set up again offshore, confirming my worst fears of our current politically controlled judiciary especially when it was reported by the Charted Institute of Journalists. For me to have disclosed, until now, that I knew my phone was tapped and my practice and private vehicles were under police surveillance, photographed and examined at night, would have been economical suicide. Identity of my sources confirming this conspiracy would then be at risk. I would have been likened as to an old RAF Shackleton hunter/killer aircraft switching on her Active Radar while closing in on some unsuspecting enemy submarine, lurking somewhere in the North Atlantic. Passive Radar, on the other hand, cannot be detected but the other, although usually more effective, would have immediately been picked on the submarines own surveillance system for it to take evasive action, leaving far less time for a successful kill. No insider could be called to give evidence, on either my behalf or this information be revealed to any third party, unless they could be trusted or failed to understand its full ramifications. It could have meant disaster, had I done so but now both my wife and I have finally reduced those constraints, by selling up and moving away. This means I am able to speak more freely while maintaining my obligations to my loyal clients and friends divulging evidence only with their clear permission, some of them having become aware as to what the enemy may stoop to next. Clients included police officers, magistrates, lawyers and civilian staff of the courts, prisons and police stations. Evidence, anonymously, included HM internal memos between HM Privy Council and HM Home Office, jury written notes to judges, in on of my trumped up trials and memos of HM Treasury Solicitors minions or, for example, a note from the court manager of Cardiff County Court surrounding the seven year ongoing surveillance just to have me certified. Certify this chronic litigant as a vexatious litigant by the orders of HM Attorney General, no less. To be banned from any court of law to make further applications of disclosure. For this case of harassment to be heard in South Wales, of all places and NOT even before a civilian jury, as originally promised, is a travesty of justice. Had I not been so for warned by members of the public I would not have been able to expose the actual truth behind our so called British Justice on cyberspace for all the world to deliberate upon. I have witnessed, by way of the website, many other stories like mine to cause me to understand how this unfettered use of public funds on police surveillance, on clearly innocent members of the public, is wide spread. My police harassment will continue to go unchecked until such hard evidence of it is taken seriously, as is in my Abuse of Process Application, the current consequences of which are set down in the Defendants 25th February 2009 False Sworn Affidavit and my 24th April 2009 Position Statement to the Cardiff Court. Why? It is more than their jobs worth for either a judge or Member of Parliament to intervene with the rule of law because they have already sworn loyalty to HM Partnership, their gravy train and in-house insurance policy, by swearing allegiance to the HM Partnership. Working on the premise that it is Parliament that is actually sovereign, when not even swearing allegiance to the people who put them there, further proves the can of worms before me. More to point, now having become further distant from my familys profession, I can now demand full disclosure of evidence of a more sensitive nature about me, much of it distributed being erroneous, already withheld by respective police forces both here, in Great Britain and elsewhere including Waco, Texas, in the United States of America. Where the Avon and Somerset Constabulary is concerned in all this is best recounted by what I personally witnessed those years ago only for the police to pass on relevant data, to this case for damages, to Guernsey Police in 1980 who, in turn, passed on still more relevant data to the South Wales Police since 1992 and Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons since 1980. One case of Somerset malfeasance particularly comes to mind, in fact, I remember vividly, as I start my witness statement on the track record of the South Wales Police, across the river. It involved a gypsy family or what my father would call, a thieving bunch of didicoys, not to insult the seemingly innocent Romany with their horses around Somerset. These gypsies were caught, re handed, with their ponies in my neighbours field, having eaten all the grass from mine. When caught they told the Taunton Police I had shown them around the two fields and rented them for the princely sum of just fifty pounds. This drawn out Crown Court case for an alleged 25 fraud led to a hung jury at the Shire Hall, Taunton which I visited so regularly in those days, when trying to get on running my veterinary practice in the area. The Western Circuit HM judge by the name of Neville demanded a retrial despite the overwhelming quite bizarre and wildly contradictory evidence, both on oath and in statement form, from the only two relevant prosecution witnesses. Also, unfortunately for him, the judge was overheard discussing the case, in the Greyhound public house, Staple Fitzepaine, the witness to that conversation, Chris Goss, the owner, I am currently trying to trace The name on the indictment papers, bringing the allegation, was a Mr Hawkins. The retrial was equally disturbing for me, bearing in mind the learned judge clearly already knew, following at least eight contradictory recorded accounts from the gypsies, that the police clearly had another agenda not on the charge sheet. For example, in the first hearing put it to the husband, suggested, we all three walked around the said field clockwise, in the pouring rain. He agreed. To the wife it was suggested we walked around anti clock wise in blazing sun shine. She agreed. At the retrial I reversed a few things and included a few extras. I suggested different points where the water needed to be turned on. They both gave different story for the mains water tap. There was no need for mains water due to the stream running by. I decided to lose the case, in order to expose Judge Nevilles conduct before the Court of Appeal with the hope the police would then be warned off and get off my back as has occurred, thirty odd years later, in South Wales but only by my name having been removed from the veterinary register. So I called this Mr Hawkins as a character witness which almost did the trick but at least revealed to me there was some other reason, far more dark and sinister, behind this obsession in obtaining convictions at whatever the cost? Chief Superintendant Hawkins, on oath, said I was employed for the police dogs and would take his own dog to no other veterinary surgeon in the area other than my father or myself. I, in desperation, informed the jury I needed to reconsider my plea of not guilty and obtained sufficient time, in my cell, to enjoy a roll up and a cup of tea my good friends, without exception, the Exeter prison guards. The verdict was appropriate but the judge got away with it, scot free. I had rented them one field only, over the phone, my wife alone receiving the money at our cottage front door. Being clients I did not show them the field as they already knew of it. I did not meet them until they were in the witness box. The answers for this conundrum, Hawkins and what was behind all this police surveillance, came to me ten years later, while I licked my wounds, all soaked in blood, lying on the concrete floor of the ancient unheated prison of Alderney, Channel Islands, once part of a Nazi Concentration Camp. Mr Hawkins had given me a warning, early on and I had forgotten. Prison in Alderney led to numerous charges. I won, including a charge of, you guessed it, Assault on Police brought by the Guernsey Police only because the case was tried on Alderney and not Guernsey. Fog, I remember, prevented the police and evil HM Comptroller, ACK Day, flying in from Guernsey and a warrant for my arrest was soon issued for my not attending at the Guernsey Airport for the flight. Difficult for them to execute as I was already waiting for the idiots in Alderney for the case to start. Enid Blyton could not have written better stuff. I was to be a suffer ten years of this kind of nonsense. A little hard on me, I thought, having offered them all a lift to the court from Guernsey, just twenty five nautical, in my rigid inflatable, never ever known to be stopped for a little inclement weather. Another police case, at about this time in Taunton, was one of alleged low flying interestingly brought by the Taunton police and not the Civil Aviation Authority further supporting the meaning of this document. This case was quashed in the Crown Court following the uncovering of the fact that the police had knowingly arranged for the only independent eye witness, a lady living in Hamilton Road, Taunton, to turn up to the original magistrates court hearing a day too late! I saw her correspondence. All other witnesses in the Crown Court hearing were police, as usual. Her original police written statement, withheld from me at magistrates, stated the aircraft was seen low over Taunton and was painted bright red. My 1946 J4 military two seat Auster aircraft, I had at the time, was painted non sink canary yellow. The barrister, who I am currently looking for as a witness, upon realising I had traced and obtained her witness summons refused to disclose the fact she had made a written statement. The barrister, when pressed still further, begrudgingly read out her statement to the Crown Court deliberately omitting the very last sentence describing the colour of the aircraft. It must have been four if not five times that I demanded sight of that statement before the HM judge, taking off his wig, eventually gave in. I was learning the laborious way, thirty years of this behaviour, so by the time I had been made to face some one hundred and thirty charges in South Wales I realised there is nothing new under the sun to find in a British court room. Another drawn out saga of months of police surveillance, concerned both my father and I when we ran short on fuel in the dark, in my old Piper Cub, G-KIRK, near Wellington, Somerset, in 78 due to a bitterly cold easterly head wind directly on our nose. We landed without lights and scrounged just five pints of two stroke mix petrol from a farmers lawn mowe, all that was available too reach the last six miles to Taunton Race Course. Then all hell let lose. Blue lights flashing were seen everywhere, all around Taunton, as we approached the landing strip and a lengthy interrogation soon followed by police visiting my home demanding I go to the police station which I refused without sight of a warrant. In the somewhat one sided discourse that then followed, I stood up from answering the telephone but still holding an ancient flintlock, converted to percussion cap fire sometime during the late Nineteenth Century, I was in the process of cleaning. Few understand the enjoyment it is of shooting a wild pigeon with old black homemade gun powder I turned my back on the two burly policemen standing, in my hall and put the antique muzzle loader back on the gun rack in front of them a rack, incidentally, holding rifles, shot guns and not to forget my trusty catapult. I then left for the pub while my wife finished preparing my supper. The police, on oath, said they had assumed I had gone to put on my coat. That incident led to a charge alleging the biggest man hunt Taunton had ever known, to quote what a Mr Hawkins said, later in a court. I walked but a hundred yards from my cottage and enjoyed a couple of pints of Guinness with a fellow veterinary surgeon from the then Ministry of Agriculture while, the court heard, thast at this precise time, tracker dogs were let lose in my garden in search of me. Chief Superintendant of Taunton Police, Mr Hawkins, on oath before three magistrates, said the search for me with police dogs had been under his personal supervision. I had been charged for assaulting police with a shot gun and holding a shot gun without a licence but the Chief of Taunton police. Curly Hawkins was only in the witness box because he had received a defence witness summons because I considered his name appeared far too often on the bottom of police documents as the man deciding whether or not to arrest, prosecute or phone tap Maurice Kirk. It took the police six weeks to post these summonses to my home address a tactic designed to prejudice a defendants attempt to gather fresh evidence. A well tried and tested tactic so often metered out on me by the South Wales Police, another reason for giving the reader this, my true statement, for reciting distant history. The shot gun case, following an amusing interlude of high tech police activity brought in from Bristol, too long a story for this welsh requirement, collapsed when the police officer returned to court to say, again on oath, that a photocopy page from his now purported missing notebook, I had now produced as an exhibit in the case was in fact the day in question of the biggest man hunt Taunton had ever known. It involved, we all heard, many more than the eleven uniformed officers milling about at the back of the courtroom waiting to arrest me. A note book was later seen floating out of the first floor courtroom window into the sleet and rain with someone shouting, Charlie, catch. The contentious, later to be Exhibit 6 in Bristol Crown Court, floated down behind the prison cell dustbins meaning for those anxious to find returned to the court room thoroughly soaked without Charlie Brinson, my old flying mate. All eleven loyal uniformed officers charged across the previously orderly environment for the prize only to all meet again, somewhat abruptly, at the only small exit door available, a sight just too vivid, for this space and for my level of English to give justice. My family solicitor had insisted on sitting in the public gallery throughout the resumed magistrates hearing, never submitting a fee note as were now national reporters, The Daily Telegraph included, my having already been arrested and grilled throughout the night for the theft of Mr Hawkins police note book at the end of the previous proceedings, the week before. The court heard that the man in charge of The man hunt had apparently written nothing in his note book remotely relating to me being more concerned, apparently, in the sensitive strike and public protest with violence, going on in Bristol, at around that time, by the media personel, of all people! The case of assault on police with a shot gun and being in the possession of a shot gun without a licence were summarily dismissed, all witnessed by Mr Burgess, the court clerk, another witness I am trying to locate. The long Bristol Crown Court trial, for the theft of a police mans note book, was dismissed but not before the very angry HM judge had had his pennies worth. First, he refused my application for no case to answer in the absence of the jury, the defence having chosen to give no evidence or call witnesses. Secondly, the judge refused any costs, a pattern throughout more than thirty years of harassment and stupid court cases, indicating to me something far more nasty was brewing. The war of attrition was into a new phase with both sides knowing you do not win any court case, in a British court room, without access to oodles and oodles of ready cash. Exhibit 6 in the prosecutions case had been labelled as note book but not even referred to by any of the nine or ten policemen who gave prosecution evidence. I was refused a copy of Exhibit 6 before, during or after the trial. Mr Hawkins was asked to recite to the jury what was written in Exhibit 6, The note book, having to ask the judge first if he needed to. It was not until I told the jury I had been refused site of Exhibit 6 that the judge conceded. There still appeared to be some difficulty in page, I think 62, marked in red in the top left hand corner, being read out. Apparently, it had been written in a foreign language, Latin, something about a tyrant living in Taunton, called Curly Hawkins. Apart from a page written in English, some childrens nursery rhyme about sheep, he expressed he was, in court jargon, in some difficulties. Talking of Taunton Race Course that may have provoked the shot gun case, it where I kept sometimes up to four or five aircraft. I remember approaching to land, from France or somewhere equally as interestingly when we saw, I believe it was John Long, policemen crouched behind the fence thinking, we assumed, they could not be seen! I took evasive action and landed in scrap yard, leg in plaster, crutches and all in cloud enveloped Tredegar, South Wales. On the following day I found all my aircraft on the race course had been tampered with, not to endanger flying but all appeared to have been meticulously searched. And another incident, I now remember, was when I was prosecuted for Assault on Police, a choice of charge that was fast becoming a bit of a regular choice when, for example, following the police sergeant in Taunton Police HQ, upon demanding my date of birth, as I stood before him, appeared a policeman either side, then smashed his fist into my face with full intent to cause injury. He had appeared not appreciate my reply. This type of provocation is best exampled during my time in Guernsey, my almost always being assaulted by police, following my arrest for something or other. It was a rare event in Taunton. I had already been accused of an overloaded car, an old VW estate with two Cub aero engines inside and a complete aircraft, less engine, a rare Nord 854, two seat vintage aircraft, on the roof while towing a trailer of engines and Super Cub wings. I was charged, later, for driving it whilst disqualified. I also had received a summons indicating I had assaulted a policeman with, the magistrates had assumed with a nine foot long WW1 De Havilland 4 four bladed wooded propeller in original Royal Flying Core paint bought in the mountains overlooking the beautiful Usk valley in Wales. The police had arrived at my cottage, en masse, as I unloaded the booty from France. While carrying another large four bladed heavy propeller I had to step back to open the garden gate towards me. A blade, I believe, may have touched a policeman standing directly behind me who had clearly already lost his temper. I had no obligation, in law, to listen to his recurring gibberish. He flew at me from behind and we all finished up in the bed of roses, blood streaming now from my face, arms and hands. A young French boy, staying as our guest, stood mesmerised. Quick, take photos of this and police numbers, I shouted while I lay prostrate, face down on the concrete with three police men on top of me applying handcuffs. He took photographs of the police onslaught which I produced later in court. The same policeman, once I was in handcuffs before my screaming young children clutching to their mum, violently assaulted and grappled with the boy as the policeman tried to open the back of his camera to expose the film. A neighbour heard the commotion, crossed the road and looked over the garden gate. I am watching all this he simply said which later earned him, a case of good French wine unless it was a litre of duty free brandy, from the many bottles concealed in the Piper Cub wings. The police immediately let go of the young boy. The French boys photographs of the police onslaught were saved which I produced later in court, my wife having taken the initiative, from past events, to grab her camera and take further pictures at the scene before the whole street appeared to be looking over the gate. I was charged with Assault on Police, jailed and later bailed, the usual routine, my having been being in Exeter prison more times than I care to remember. In court, if it had not been for the police women, present at the incident, I would have received a lengthy prison sentence for she refused to agree with the two other police that I had assaulted anyone. I doubted her promotion chances from thereon. As for the overloaded car the ring leader in the prosecution case, no doubt a retired Commander or Chief Constable of police by now, when asked, How heavy is an aircraft when it is flying? had to admit the overload charge was only relevant whilst the car had been moving at below 30mph down Station Road. The car had been seen, he said, by other policemen, conveniently unavailable to be cross examined, the night before but, admittedly, driven by my employed full time driver. The police argued the car was under my control having to call eventually having to call, to achieve a conviction, policeman that had been keeping my house under surveillance before we arrived. The purpose of this account is not just about police harassment but evidence of the prolonged period of police surveillance. The police prosecuted on the evidence that, in the dead of night, an off duty policeman just happened to be in a car across the quiet suburban road, The Avenue and saw me get out of the passenger seat of the loaded VW and square up the trailer and car tight to the curb as my driver clearly could not manage it. When cross examined as to why he did not arrest me or immediately or call in re enforcements with paddy wagon there was a silence in the court room such that you could have heard a pin drop. All the charges were dismissed, save the charge of driving whilst disqualified. The same police names seemed to appear in court as the witnesses were called to give evidence, a pattern that did not go unnoticed in the South Wales Police prosecutions Some of the same police, in this case, were witnesses in another allegation of Assault on Police, this time destined for a Trial by Jury by tagging on a Dangerous Driving allegation, the drop of poison in the tail which proved successful. The police conviction, driving whilst disqualified, was used in order obtain a six month prison sentence for flying an aircraft whilst drunk when I was not drunk, not the pilot nor registered owner of the aircraft. To the contrary, the young inexperienced pilot from Bristol, logging hours for his commercial, had failed to notice that Southampton Radar had transmitted incorrect navigational causing me to grab the hand microphone, in those days, to transmit back the quiery immediately. The small two seat single engined Cessna was crossing from Morlaix, Brittany to Bournemouth, on a black stormy winters night in sleet and driving rain. The pilot was visited late at night by ex Met police who, he told me, threatened his licence if he did not agree to be a prosecution witness. I am currently looking for that witness. The six months in prison stretched to nearly a year for each time I was due to be released the Avon and Somerset Police, CAA or HM Customs and Excise achieved, in my absence, Remand Orders from various HM Judges in Chambers, behind closed doors, with me being denied access to each hearing to know what and why was being relied upon, un recorded, to detain me further in custody. The purpose of moving me to six or seven different prisons, scattered around the country, seemed to coincide with my letters requesting visits of potential defence witnesses living in the immediate area. To prevent me obtaining witnesses and documents for a string of allegations, nearly all of which came to nought, even for those few that finally reached a substantive hearing, were blocked by successive prison governors and or trial judges. I recall, as an example, the Southampton Crown Court trial when both the prison and trial judge refused to have released virtually all my defence papers sent by my brother Michael and my wife, their excuse being that, although they had arrived by post and had been censored, there were too many papers for me to have either in the prison cell or the court! There could not have been more than fifty pages, including the Stampe photographs to confirm her pristine condition on day of sale. This was all recorded on tape. As another example of the lengths to which vindictive small minded officials will go, clearly accountable to no one, I will recite another one, my having plenty more if anyone in court wants them or dares suggest anything thus written is false or at least, misleading? As this statement is being written for more than one reason I put the South Wales Police on notice that I have attempted and succeeded in safeguarding the records of most of these cases as I was clearly aware of the conspiracy by police to pervert the course of justice and would have to have overwhelming evidence to break the media D Notice and those other dark forces lurking in the gutter. I had been accused of selling an un airworthy 1948 French Stampe biplane in the summer of 1978, the CAA finding a purported birds nest in the lower wing in February 1979. I was charged with endangering life and flight for hire and reward with lesser charges, due to the aircraft being light on paperwork. The main charges collapsed before a bemused jury, months later, with the nest proving to be that of a home of a hibernating mouse consisting of old leaves from the hedge the purchasers had stuffed her under. The poor old girl was left waterlogged without a stitch of clothing, even to cover her modesty, for most of the winter. They were not prosecuted, of course, when they flew her with no valid registration or certificate of airworthiness and attempting low level aerobatics with no previous experience, the court heard, because they were destined to be star prosecution witnesses. Standard form, when short of material, in any police case I have ever witnessed. A sample record, below, from my prison diary would be enough to satisfy any jury which may explain why I have been unlawfully refused one. Conditions in prison, without Legal Aid or even a lawyer was, at least, challenging. ( HYPERLINK "http://kirkflyingvet.com/files/Default.aspx?Sort=PostDate" http://kirkflyingvet.com/files/Default.aspx?Sort=PostDate) CAA Land Maurice in Jail! I took, without warning, prison officer Clark's clenched fist straight on the face as I was pinned to the wall by two other burly officers, on the stairs down to the bowels of Winchester Prison. I was then thrown, with little ceremony, back through the open door of my Victorian confinement the only natural light coming from a window measuring no more than 6 inches near the ceiling, at ground level. The big iron door slammed behind me and my bare knees took most of the fall as I was to remain there, bare foot with just tea shirt and pants, for the duration. I was on Remand until Crown Court, there being only a mattress and blanket put through the door when the lights went out at 10pm. I had only six weeks to try and prepare a defence against the Investigation Branch of the CAA they, in effect, having obtained a custodial sentence without trial, knowing full well that this trumped up charge with the Stampe biplane would collapse, in open court, if only I could get out beforehand.. Prison without Trial was soon to become common feature in my life because, within seven weeks, I would be experiencing the stench, first hand, of the Guernsey's judicial climate. They had to prevent me from getting witnesses, engineer reports and most of all prevent me from examining one particular piece of evidence, "the birds nest in the wing". The 4 wings were purported to be crumbling and were positively dangerous the Judge in Chambers was told, in my absence, my having been denied an appearance having to settle to smolder in the Remand Wing of Exeter gaol. This structural damage was due to the 1946 Casein flour and water type glue having failed with age, like me and having been left outside too long. This had caused multiple delaminating of the wood, in both ribs and main spars of this classic aerobatic machine, so advanced in its time, now so few but sought after by so many. Just then, out from a hole in the corner of the cell, popped by old cellmate Matilda, a house mouse, which appeared to be gaining weight! She now had great difficulty getting through the crack under the water pipe. Before returning to her den she enjoyed my usual bread crumbs and did her usual quick tour of the concrete floor often sniffing my toes, whilst passing, which appeared to give her some pleasure! It was some days later when she duly presented me with her litter of young ones who, over the weeks to come, were quite happy to eat sitting in the palm of my hand or on my size eleven feet. Solitary confinement meant that I was sometimes entitled to an hour's exercise along with others segregated for other reasons such as serious violence or sexual offences, the latter for their own protection, all of which had all my attention. They were not the sort of people I believed I had met or would likely to meet in my life, other than in prison. Oh how naive could I be? One such muscle bound example, of mixed race, appeared as wide as he was tall and had recently killed again. This time it was a fellow prisoner simply because he had found him in his bath, he having left it filling, whilst away to find a bar of soap. Conversations were often monosyllabic with these individuals but not always, by any means. I was often riveted to the spot by their stories of the underworld and bent lawyers however ever much they may have been embellished over time. The little mice came out to greet me as soon as the clang of the prison cell door faded away. I sat in the only shaft of sunlight that sometimes penetrated the cell through the slit window enjoying my dog ends. They were found on the exercise yard my having previously hidden two split matches, for such a contingency, in my hair to light them. As I enjoyed a smoke my thoughts went back to the Crown Court indictment of, "Endangering life with an aircraft," Contrary to Article 56 of The Air navigation Order. Now this bird's nest, the CAA had said, to get me jailed, had been in the wing under the linen covering, a year before they found it. They persuaded the Judge it was there when I had bought it in the previous July, in France, and had gone on to conducted a considerable number of aerobatic sorties, out of a stubble field alongside the annual hang glider competition at Mere, Wiltshire. But I had sold this aircraft in the September to the CAA's main witnesses against me, they having stuffed the aircraft under a hedge throughout the winter until they could obtain hangarage, sometime after Christmas. A plan was starting to come together in my head as I sat musing on the cold hard concrete. I would have to get through three body searches before I got into the courtroom and one of the mice would fit nicely into a well ventilated matchbox........... (The main witness for the prosecution, later that week, entered the witness box Southampton Crown Court seven months pregnant). In another case, I referred to earlier, was based on the fact I had been seen speeding in Taunton, at the dead of night, to a sick cow suspected of dying of E Coli mastitis, gas gangrene of the mammary tissue. The experienced farmer had told me it was milk fever but when I examined her realised it definitely was not and the best drug for the purpose was back on the shelf in my surgery. The police road block I encountered later, after my second drive to the farm, speeding, maybe but not dangerously, I was arrested for assault on police as I sat in my car. By the time this arrived at Crown Court the police had added the charge of Dangerous Driving for which the jury found me guilty. The policeman said I had assaulted him through the open car window surrounded by his five colleagues. His colleagues, on cross examination, eventually admitted they saw nothing as they were all no where near the car but busily directing traffic! This was at around midnight on a normally quiet road in the day, leading out to the countryside. Before the trial a policemans girlfriend, a horse client who worked behind the bar of the Black Brook pub, a favourite watering hole of mine, raised the subject of the incident quite out of the blue. She said, to my utter surprise, she had been driving past when she saw me being stopped and what then occured. In court she appeared without need of witness summons, a very rare experience for me, my having just witnessed the disastrous conduct of defence witnesses in a witness box, both believed competent, compellable, sane and sober. This taught me not to forget, next time, to take witness statements before defence evidence. In both cases witness statements had been taken by the police but not disclosed before trial. Deja vu? The barmaid said there was no assault committed by me, on the contrary, it was a bunch of angry coppers all around the car window watching for the result of the recently introduced road side breath test. As for the imaginary traffic she confirmed there was not a moving vehicle in sight! Mention of the Black Brook pub reminds me of the M4 Motorway roundabout just a few hundred yards down the road. I had been taken to court by the same police for driving around the roundabout, I believe around thirty times followed by a police car with blue lights flashing. The case was dismissed as there appeared to be some right, in law, to drive around a round about as many times as one cares. I had been, again, returning from an animal emergency, a cow calving, in the small hours of the night and was again followed for great distances by this same police, while decisions were being taken at Police HQ. 1st Action, paragraph 8.12, my driving around the Barry town roundabout, outside the police station, only two and a half times and at no more than four miles per hour, if any prosecution evidence can ever be believed, is why I have included this history of Taunton police harassment to support my informed view, as a witness, of both the welsh police and welsh courts. Barry Magistrates found me guilty in my absence, of driving without due care and attention for my meander, tight at all times to the inside curb. I had suffered a motor cycle accident causing me to finish up in hospital. Photos of the injuries were subsequently produced at Crown court with, I think, my wife giving evidence or at least submitting a sworn witness affidavit to one of my fifty odd Judicial Review Applications, at huge expense, submitted to the Royal Courts of Justice, The Strand, London. The magistrates ignored my practice secretarys phone call to the court, while they were waiting for me, informing them of what had happened. Nor did they bother to have the court clerk ring the local Accident and Emergency Department at the Princess of Wales Hospital to check. Instead the magistrates heard HM Crown Prosecution Service solicitor, Ms Jackie Seal, who features heavily in these three Actions, tell the court I was obviously lying and that the case should proceed in my absence. Police, knowing me, actually saw me in the hospital that morning. At Cardiff Crown Court, at the Appeal, HM Judge Evans failed to inform me, despite it being explained, I could have simply had a rehearing, in my presence this time, before different Magistrates. Judge Evans went on to accept new evidence of a policeman, to be named later when I remember it. The policeman said he had seen an unknown car approach the four or five lane roundabout and brake violently. Violently meaning on cross examination, the bonnet appeared to dip, no screeching of tyres or tread left on the road, no identification of car or driver as a witness! The dip was the only reason given by the judge for the careless driving allegation to be proven. The accepted fact that there were numerous police cars and a police bike all at the scene, all with blue lights flashing, just may have been the reason for a motorist to slow down a little quicker than normal when legally having to give way to me on the roundabout, in any event. The Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons Court Chairman stated, on the 6th January 2005, that the motoring conviction rendered me unfit to practice veterinary medicine. A small side matter in Cardiff Crown Court, my being accused by the judge of stealing a policemans note book during the Appeal proceedings, just may have been a factor for a trial of an Englishman abroad. Subsequent conversations, long after, with both the prosecution barrister, Mr Wallis and my insider police veterinary clients has left me in no doubt that the police evidence to convict was knowingly false and all in that Crown Court, that day, knew it. I was starting to become a bit of a regular at Cardiff Crown Court these days, even considering taking up lodgings nearby. I even entered into negotiations with the court staff for some designated parking. The original excuse for the police stopping me that day, on a large Barry roundabout, my having just left the police station twenty five yards away, was because the police had believed I was a banned driver, an excuse they repeated for a further three or four incidents involving some of the very same police. My view on the matter was ignored every time for the obvious reasons. The way I was handled in custody was harassment to provoke violence with the hope of a conviction at the end of it, standard police procedure. The reason for my being repeatedly stopped on the road was to prohibit my obtaining motoring insurance, to work, by leaning on either my insurance agent and/or Insurance Company, as full disclosure of police records will disclose. I was a witness to all these tactics. The Guernsey police had already achieved this end game just prior to purchasing the Barry veterinary practice in 1992. Their routine was as much violence to provoke, as soon as I was arrested and then warn off any insurance agent on the island in insuring me. I witnessed it. I will refer to yet another Taunton incident of police conspiracy but just how many are needed? It must have been around this time, 1977/1978, when I had arranged a FlyIn to my airstrip on the Quantock Hills, just across the Severn Estuary from Barry, South Wales. I was walking with my bicycle, as banned driver, taking my invitations to Taunton railway station post box when I was jumped on from behind by a policeman. A Land Rover full of belligerent policemen was seen to pull up alongside the curb. As I was violently manhandled into the back of the vehicle I shouted at the top of my voice at a few pedestrians at a bus stop, opposite, asking them to contact me, My name is Maurice Kirk, veterinary surgeon, just around the corner. From my cell in Exeter Prison I managed to get a note to our family solicitor who had quietly sat in the court public gallery earlier, in another case of a police mans missing note book, only to intervene when ardent police officers, while applying the handcuffs were charging me for the same offence for a second time, they having charged me for theft but a few days before! His name is Duncan Adam, last heard of as a District Judge in Bodmin Court, Cornwall but no doubt retired now for his fly fishing. I am currently looking for him as a witness. Duncan employed a private detective to search for eye witnesses of the incident at the Taunton bus stop as I had already received a pretty swift custodial sentence of three months for Assault on Police, three if not four police officers giving similar damming evidence. My trusted solicitor had found one, if not two of the bystanders at the bus stop that night only because it was his job and the private detective had persistently revisited Station Road, handing out his cards and asking questions. He finally struck lucky allowing me to walk free. Two strangers found to have been at the bus stop at the time of the incident said they saw a policeman jump on my back as I was walking towards the railway station. One gave a particularly vivid account of police wielding heavy torches, pushing me over the low wall and appeared to be hitting me on the head with the torch. What saved the police, for my injuries were obvious, was the nit picking by the judge, the name I forget, fortunately for him, that the witnesses could not actually see the strikes I received to my head as I lay on the ground just below the level of the two foot low wall. I never met or interviewed these witnesses as I was made to stay in jail. The case finally collapsed when one witness, it transpired worked in the police station or some ancillary organisation and was known and respected by the prosecution. Evidence from each policeman being, as usual, at gross variance once they realised their pensions were on the line. A Guernsey born prison officer in Dorchester prison, in 1980, had stuck his neck out and shown me the last few pages of my official prison file disclosing a letter to the Prison Governor, a pilot, with a signature at the bottom I instantly recognised. The letter was from the Taunton Police stating, in unequivocal language, that I was violent and likely to try and escape. The letter was signed by a Chief Superintendant curly Hawkins. The prison staff explained that because of that document I could not work outside the prison or make the governors tea but, instead, was put in the mail bag shop to improve my sewing techniques. Later that year, when I was on remand, Mr M R Jones, of Customs and Excise, had succeeded in an application before a judge, in my absence, that I should remain in custody until trial, relating to VAT, as I had written to a prosecution witness from my cell. The mere fact the letter contained nothing more than a reminder that a large sum of money for flying tuition to Holland was still outstanding appeared irrelevant to the learned judge, rubber stamping the application. As least expected and in the dead of night, I was still a little naive in those days, I was awakened by a team of Customs and Excise officers visiting the Bristol prison causing me to be woken up and taken from my bed and interrogated at length just days before the trial, they having now confiscated two valuable aircraft of mine, never to be seen again. More of this Welshman later. Damn it, now I remember two more farcical cases before a Judge and Jury involving alleged unlawful eviction of tenants, with Mr Hawkins as a witness, during this time of intense police harassment. Relevant letters of mine to him had appeared to have gone missing concerning the criminal activities of these squatters, witnessed by me, my father and old student flat mate. The Welsh trial judge was HM Recorder Davies? He eventually ordered, in apparent frustration, that if I said I had written them to him, I had the carbon copies, the court would accept it. The judge had already thrown out three of the seven charges before the jury had a chance even to be sworn in and asked just what this case was really all about? I remember police saying something about my flying at the squatters wielding a heavy axe. The jury caused a local court record to be broken for being out for under four minutes to consider the remaining indictments. The Irish urchins, who had been escorted to court each day in one of Chief Superintendants police cars, all the way from Wellington, despite the prosecution having been brought by the local borough council, were never prosecuted nor was I interviewed for my serious allegations against them relating to the IRA, theft and criminal damage. There were many more cases, with some I lost, my driving force from there on in, when confronted with their evil work place, was to expose crooked lawyers and judges. My criminal record, little of which I am to blame, has been a mill stone around my neck for life that has lead to all the consequences originally intended by the enemy that started this saga. Harassment from the police, Civil Aviation Authority and Uncle John Cobbley and All really started for real when I believe, not tipped off, Chief Superintendant Hawkins must have informed the Customs And Excise Drug Squad, bathing in their glory, quite rightly, on their recent activities along the Welsh coast. I was to meet my first power crazy Welshman, to encounter in court rooms, called Mr MR Jones, referred to earlier being immune to prosecution due to the mythical powers of HM and what is written in his respective Royal Charter. The RCVS Royal Charter, for example, explicitly orders a presiding judge to look favourably on any RCVS lawyer or their agents. To cut a very long story very short Joness enquiries stretched right across Europe, costing the Tax payer a small fortune while I was arrested and jailed, my garden being dug up, the floor boards of my house torn out, the contents of my safe removed and little returned. Visitors to my house were stopped and searched. One, I remember, being physically hauled out of his car, he told. Mr Michael Coghlan of Blandford Forum, Dorset, a pilot, was then interrogated on the roadside. Another witness I urgently seek. No apparent reason was given, just down the road from my house but to identify the driver. It appeared a recurrent theme that is to feature heavily in my Actions for damages against the South Wales Police. It transpired from information received from veterinary clients working within the system in Taunton my phone was being tapped and my mail was being intercepted. I could say little or commence any legal redress for my practice would be immediately dead in the water with a young family to keep. I made a decision to sell before my clients were frightened off from visiting any of my premises. Police harassment became so intense I left the area. HM Customs Drug Squad onslaught could have been avoided if I had made alternative decisions as to whether to confide in the police on information received. Some years earlier, circa 1972, having informed the Taunton police that I had been approached by a group of males wishing me, for a considerable sum of money, to do a single flight in my then four seat Piper Tripacer, at night, from a Cherbourg farmers field, France, just to deliver a package by parachute with me attached. The group of males referred to a front page article of a national newspaper, The Daily Mirror, carrying a story of the first man in the world to parachute to his own wedding. It further did not help when I realised my phones may been tapped. Again, at about this time, my dear old friend, an eccentric American aviator, wishing to move his vast wealth of vintage aeroplanes from Blackbush Aerodrome, England to Guernsey, Channel Islands, an iniquitous tax haven, offered me an equally ridiculously large sum of cash just to fly his dog in from Cherbourg, again, without declaring my cargo to HM Customs. The dog, I was told, was later smuggled in by another pilot. Doug Arnold failed to appreciate my veterinary qualifications not unlike the Welshman who knew damned well, by his extensive enquiries right across Europe where I was buying vintage aeroplanes, the Kirk family were rather unlikely to ever get mixed up in anything to do with illicit drug running and promote the havoc already caused to our community. Mr MR Joness overwhelming desire for personal publicity and promotion, no doubt, stirred up the Civil Aviation Authority as well and between them went on to conduct a fruitless enquiry that led to lengthy jury trials, countless appearances in court, my being moved between in no less than six or seven British prisons giving me the idea, at the time, apart from the obvious thoughts of vengeance, to compose, as the occasional Public Health Inspector, bon vivant and glutton, the Roney Guide to British Prison Food. Again, the Taunton police did not leave it there, just stirring up the Welshman. They also wrote to the Civil Aviation Authority in attempts stop me flying as a commercial pilot while my ATPL and Flying Instructors exams were imminent. Oh, what a coincidence! I am jailed for six months (minimum four months), out of the blue for a trumped up Civil Aviation Authority offence killing dead any chance of an my aviation career with everybody around me asking, Is there not something evil behind all this? One of the CAA letters, indicating all this, was never returned after being taken from my fire proof safe, in my home in Taunton. Both police and HM Customs searched the property. It was a copy letter from my friends in the CAA Investigation Branch (stuffed with early retired Met police with recurring back problems) addressed to Taunton Police rebuking the police, in no uncertain terms, in their bombardment of material to CAA House, Kingsway, London, wanting me to be quickly prosecuted. The CAA informed the police that my going about my veterinary commitments, around the Vale of Somerset, by vintage biplane or war time Auster and folding bicycle, as a banned driver, was perfectly legitimate and nothing whatever to do with the CAA unless they could furnish information to indicate I had infringed the Air Navigation Order. The Customs and Excises case on alleged drug running never really surfaced during the Crown Court hearing with Judge Vowden, an experience to be before, especially when he ordered a retrial due to the Western Daily Press . The HM Customs prosecution case switched at the last moment to indictments of reckless book keeping (Recently introduced VAT) and damaging an aircraft but none of these witnesses had experience in VAT! The Kirk Aviation business, under scrutiny, included the importation and trading in aircraft especially lovely old French ladies such as old wooden Stampe biplanes, Jodels, Emerudes, Robins and my most favourite, a Sipa 901. The lengthy trial by jury, Jones et al calling the most obscure and irrelevant witnesses from far afield, finally ended with the dear old judge mumbling to the prosecution barrister, if the jury do not come back in the next ten minutes I am going to throw this case out. The jury returned minutes later. After the two trials were over and had been before the Criminal Division of the Court of Appeal, my now being eligible for Legal Aid, it was accepted that HM Customs owed me money, not me them! Not unusual in cases brought by HM immune to prosecution government departments. The court fines were slashed by their Lordships. No fine was ever paid nor will it ever be which I made clear to the court at the time. The Sipa had been bought, back in 1969, for around seven hundred pounds assisted from the acquisition of King Edward cigars, my then favourite, King Size Number Six cigarettes and many bottles of Standfast Whiskey, triangular bottles, if in a sailing boat, do not roll around and break. This, my first aeroplane was built to the G forces for a flick roll (but dont tell the PFA that) with an elliptical wing copied from the Supermarine Spitfire when she was built in a French post war competition, circa 1952. To make sure the reader of this witness statement has no misconceived ideas the Sipa and Auster were used to evade official Customs clearance from some licensed airfield in the wrong direction for Ireland I visited often. Flying from a stubble field in Somerset direct to a Donegal beach, avoided the harassment I nearly always received when clearing out of welsh airports to fly foreign. I remember a trip to Southern Ireland in an old Auster, in the 70s, to drop off my head nurse, Maggie, for a well earned holiday. We had presented ourselves to HM Customs at Exeter airport but had a flat car battery for ancient radio. There was some mix up for we took off once the battery was charged, my being later fined for not clearing correctly. Again, remembering incidents relevant to police harassment, it was Exeter Customs and Excise who first confiscated one of my aircraft. My old French wooden built Jodel, up until recently, had been the home of a number of pigeons. She was now inbound from France, via a particularly cow pat covered Somerset field, having just been chased down the Cherbourg runway by firemen grimly clinging on to the sides of an old English built Dennis fire engine. As she sped down the tarmac, while frantically clanging the old hand operated brass bell, also outside, the gesticulating fireman failed to put across the reason for our chance meeting as I rolled to get airbourne. Shortly afterwards, over the English Channel the aircraft caught fire. She was confiscated for the winter by HM Customs, in a heated hangar, free of charge, only for her to be released from custody, without reason, to be sold as is, where is for four times I had bought her for. In the same year, I think, I recall re importing a 250 British WW2 Auster aircraft, the fuselage tied to the back bumper by a calving rope. Weymouth Customs demanded tax on the aeroplane despite my explaining the facts of a British product. They refused to take a cheque, my being VAT registered with them, in any event. I refused their argument, dropping the aeroplane right there in middle of the concourse and after further threats, quietly drove away. Months later I received a call from them to collect her. I returned in a different vehicle. Upon collection I was asked the whereabouts of the original vehicle that toed in the fuselage. Upon asking which vehicle it was I was placed in some difficulties. Police harassment meant I never divulge information unless obliged by law. I never drove a car for much more than a month before disposing of it, rarely registered in my name and usually reliant on names of famous aviatrix to appear on any official documents. Never would I have less than four or five available, at any one time, switching them two or three times a day, if need be, when I got wind of the day to day police surveillance. I remember leaving them parked all around my cottage in Taunton far enough not to be seen by the police surveillance from right across the street. Many was the time I would do a night visit to some veterinary emergency by clambering over the back of the garden fence, legging it to an awaiting car, two streets away only to return in another vehicle, one I prepared earlier, all to bamboozle Hawkins but could never talk about it. I asked the Customs officers to describe it. They appeared that they could not. Strange that, I thought at the time, as it was an almost brand new French built Citroen 2CF left hand drive corrugated roofed bread van. Somewhat a rare a species to be seen in the UK. All these incidents with HM Customs and Excise, there were others, occurred before the officious Welshman appeared on the scene. The English Customs officers conduct, on each of the above occasions, appeared reasonable, in all the circumstances. It would be appropriate to list, at this stage, some examples of police harassment by the welsh police, not in current Actions, following what I believe was the communications between police forces following the ignominious defeat concerning a Somerset police officers note book., gone missing from a private office, deep in central police station together with a purported temporary loan of one of his police cars, at about this time, in broad daylight, also without a successful conviction. The Welsh police at Swansea, upon one of my occasions from returning from the Isle of Man TT Races, had me unload ten or more large boxes of frozen kippers and Queenies onto the tarmac, in the teeming rain, before setting about with screwdrivers and a penknife to enter the fabric covered fuselage of my ancient Auster4, as old as me and still flying. They were purportedly looking for contraband, possibly Pakistanis, they being the premium cargo at that time in the early 70s, in those heady days of inexpensive flying and lots of fun. Another incident was in 1971 when I was en route to Northern Ireland, now subject to the 1969 Terrorism Act, when Welch police at Haverfordwest, Pembrokeshire, deliberately tried to delay my wife and I attending the Enniskillen Hunt Ball, that night and a morning after of flighting in the duck. The aircraft was brisling with appropriate and later, the Irish Royal Ulster Constabulary considered, laughing, not so appropriate armament for the purpose. The Welsh police, clearly tipped off from Taunton, gauged by their inept questions, at the time, demanded we all wait, a Friday winters evening with the sun going down while Customs and Excise turned up from Milford Haven. We had crossed swords once before and were to do so again, later. This was Mr M R Joness training ground, I later found out, before we first met, which may be relevant. Customs were to clear us, I was told by the police, to a part of the United Kingdom where the IRA were not going to win the War and I, also, insisted were planning to kill still more innocent people on United Kingdom soil, they having already put a gun to my brothers head. All in the name of gratuitous violence seriously funded from the United States of America. It also did not appear to interest them that if that was the only daft reason for detaining me, it was unlawful and we were leaving for week end from a busy veterinary practice. I remember saying something along the lines, We do not need bloody Customs clearance for Northern Ireland it is my country until such time as a referendum from the legal occupants vote otherwise. I was only too well aware, as I said it, of the daft notion afoot of the minority in Wales, coupled with the regular burning down of Englishmens cottages, demanding a devolved government from Westminster and I was obviously talking to one. I have now lived long enough to confirm my worst fears. The police, parked in the middle of the newly licenced airfield car suffered considerable damage to the roof, apparently, purportedly from a passing low flying aircraft, the latter being chased by a Hawker Hunter out of RAF Brawdy, the fighter base nearby. My later becoming a little overcome by good Irish hospitality, at the dance, forgave the police for their errors and still hit a few birds down at dawn despite of it all. No criminal proceedings followed the incidents either in South Wales or at St Angelo, Enniskillen, following our late arrival. We had been surrounded by at least five police cars in the dead of night, found only by the luck of a full moon shining on a water swamped runway. Another incident with no charges, no doubt, for fear of revealing prior police surveillance even before Janet and I left that potato field on the edge of Taunton Some of these incidences may well be out of sequence as I remember them but they all indicate a campaign reliant on police surveillance. Another welsh police incident, comes to mind, earlier in 1970 involving the Sipa flight to Donegal, Ireland. Maps of the area were scarce and mine blew out between canopy and the tired fabric fuselage shortly before we landed armed now only with a set of tide tables for the beach landing, beside my brother Michaels fishing hut. The return journey required a second landing in West Wales at a disused old WW2 airfield at Talbenny, Milford Haven, my having dropped in for jerry can of car fuel on the way out. I hit a pot hole and suffered sufficient damage for it not to be safe to fly with a passenger, wife included. Milford Haven HM Customs were alerted. This incident at Talbenny incurred much driving back and forth from Somerset and a HM Customs and Excise fine of fifteen pounds which I think I paid but only because I believed it was more than reasonable. Another welsh police incident, I recall, where I was when I received Welsh police abuse at Cardiff airport, a pattern that continued, almost every time, until I was removed from the veterinary register in May 2002. Since then they have been nothing but sweetness and light. The Barry Magistrates Courts had just been built and before the introduction of the clearly failed HM Crown Prosecution Service. South Wales Police or whatever they were called in those days had brought a charge of obstruction and/or resisting arrest for something while clearing Customs for Dublin in a Cessna 150 two seat aircraft. Yet again the case was riddled with lying Welsh policemen while I, a commercial pilot, has locked up for hours leaving my paying passenger, a Dutchman, stranded at Cardiff Airport. The magistrates took little time in dismissing the charges. It was at about that time when I witnessed clear evidence of a distinct decline in the standards of not just police as witnesses and the bringing of charges on the unsuspecting public but also a general decline in the integrity within the magistrates system. Above that level it has remained about as wicked as it can be to this day. In 1970, being before Exeter Crown Court, represented by a solicitor, Mr Alan Pendlebury, for theft of an aircraft. I was half owner with Charlie Brinson, his half having been chained up by the Official Receiver. This was not going to get in the way of a planned trip to the Scilly Isles for Auntie Diana, having just lost her husband, Uncle John as both he and my grandfather, before him, had been long standing administrators for the islands and Duchy of Cornwall. The allegation was withdrawn following further enquiries. I witnessed clear evidence of a distinct decline in the standards of not just police evidence and the bringing of criminal charges but, later in the 70s, also a general decline in the apparent integrity within the magistrates system. Courts above magistrates level have remained, to this day, about as wicked as they are able and will remain so until such time as the general public are fully informed. Police harassment caused me to eventually to sell up the family practice in Somerset and move abroad to a place, I misguidedly believed would be away from Chief Superintendant Hawkinss influence. Gosh how wrong I was and not the last of my mistakes when believing police harassment would eventually all die down. . Guernsey State Police Guernsey appeared a quiet place to pursue my interests in veterinary surgery but not for long. About a year into my working as a veterinary surgeon in the Channel Islands, having just entered into partnership, I was then seriously assaulted by the police causing the doctor, upon finding me in a police cell in a pool of blood, to rebuke them ordering them to organise an immediate ambulance to take me to Casualty. It required many stitches in my torn away scalp, they having thrown me head long into a granite wall. Overheard conversations that night, in custody and information, later, from my clients and friends caused me to become aware that there was close communication with the UK police, in Wales and England, following the granite wall incident. Soon after my partner, Nick, entered a psychiatric hospital leaving me to fend off a steady stream of police incidents of harassment following the granite wall incident. There followed countless nonsense court cases, the rule of law appearing to be alien to their insular way of life. Police tactics were to destroy my income I having become a single handed general practice meaning not just cats and dogs but had to be available day or night for every creature, great and small. I was put in the ancient island prison no less than twenty one times, usually for a couple of days or so until all charges would be dropped. I recall nineteen charges being dropped in one day but not until I had spent considerable time in custody with serious injury to both my veterinary practice and to my sixty ton sailing boat moored, unattended, precariously in St Sampsons harbour. The Insular Authority continued to refuse me but not others, the right to live in a house as an essential worker leaving me no alternative, while my application was subject to Royal Court Appeal, to keep my wife and young children in a dilapidated garden shed hidden in brambles behind the rented surgery premises. The police were regularly seen taking up night residence in the club opposite my surgery, in Nocq Road, St Sampsons, in order to obtain proof of our illegal occupancy. When winter approached I therefore set about breaking into the roof space for the family to live in above the surgery. When suspicion was aroused that we were there I was forced to retreat back to the garden shed. I knew that the adverse publicity to the islands already ailing tourist industry, may save us from being be prosecuted did outweigh their expensive attempts to have me off the island. As there was a genuine need, for the majority of islanders were treated somewhat like they were still in the Dark Ages, my half expecting a Wat Tyler equivalent to emerge from the masses. He didnt so I stood, on their behalf, for the States elections obtaining embarrassing good support and continued to self finance the Guernsey Legal Aid Association I had set up much earlier. My wife and I decided the Channel Islands, apart from Alderney, was not a fit place to bring up children and so she returned to civilisation leaving me my fight my court cases, re the theft of my practice, freehold and personalty and being refused housing licence. In order to live somewhere, meantime, while still trying to maintain a veterinary service both in Guernsey and Alderney, i bought a sixteen foot rigid inflatable and a an elegant old sixty ton, sixty foot long, Breton Tunney boat and ran her up the St Sampsons beach on full throttle, on the highest tide of the year, to the minute. Whilst police grappled with me in the cramped wheel house, it appeared they were searching for reverse gear, the opened sea cock down by the keel was quietly filling the fish hold with a temporary few feet of sea water making it impossible to move until she was sold, two years later for a huge profit. I lived on Petite Marie Claude in luxury, fifty plus and jazz group in the hold for my fortieth birthday, with two years plugged into the free fishermans electricity. Police surveillance continued in an unprecedented way. Even my regular visits to clients in Alderney, by rigid inflatable, gave reports from radio hams and civilians working from within the police station, itself, that the police were even monitoring my movements at sea! Even a client, a female telephonist on the night rota of the islands telephone exchange, warned me of regular police surveillance on my telephone line. Bernard Decarteret, while working for the States Works Department in the police station overheard my voice coming from another room. Upon investigation he saw a loudspeaker connected, he was told, to my surgery telephone number and it had been listened to, he was told, for the past two years. Another typical example, too many to list today, of police harassment, often by twenty 24/7 surveillance was, when Her Majesty the Queen Mother came to visit in the Royal Yacht Britannia. Fishermen clients quickly tipped me off that same night, that the police launch was in full pursuit of me as I slowly perambulated around the beautiful vessel, moored in the bay, enjoying all that she signified before she was and never to return. The police never caught up with me, that night, as I put my lights out and made a run for the tide swept rocky shallows off Herm Island. The next thing I hear are charges being prepared on my use of the vessel. Charges were then dropped on the excuse of lack of evidence. There was plenty of evidence of my infringing the maritime code, switching off my lights on a vessel travelling above the minimum speed for no lights. It was obvious that had the HM Procurer, de Vic Cary, had pressed for a conviction no way could they have hidden the fact I had been under police surveillance every time I left harbour. Relating directly to the South Wales Polices end game played out for ten years Guernsey State Police also harassed those furnishing me with the required compulsory third party insurance. It related to the veterinary ambulance needed in order to practice veterinary surgery. Island police repeatedly visited my client and insurance broker demanding he intricate details of my insurance for my various motorised forms of transport. My client was visited so many times by the police in the end that I was asked to take my business elsewhere because the police presence was damaging his business. The Guernsey insurance broker assured me no other broker in Bailiwick would insure me. I tried. He was right. I took a day trip to Jersey. I am currently trying to locate this witness. Having beaten the Housing Authority in the Royal Court against De Vic Carey again, wearing his same silly hat but this time, not as criminal prosecutor but in the civil court on behalf of the insular government! He conceded without a fight in open court, again for fear my wife, Janet, or I would disclose the police surveillance tactics he had personally authorised. There was not a single penny compensation of the miserable five or six years for my family, of course, not even for the puncture outfit for my bicycle to get there, police harassment immediately being notched up a few more clicks, moving overnight surveillance on my house I had recently purchased in the parish of St Martins, on the other side of the island from my surgery in St Sampsons. I had to give up most of my garden for a car park at the rear of the premises and build the surgery, foundations to the roof virtually single handed as word, my finding it difficult get local labour to be seen working on the building site, it being common knowledge, now, my phone was tapped and that it often had night police surveillance easily witnessed by my nabours. This meant at least my few loyal clients, not already frightened off, could drive in around the back out of sight, reducing the chances of being noticed. With the effect of police surveillance achieving the damage to my business I eventually made preparation to leave the island, something I have regretted not doing much earlier. I was not leaving without first proving my phone was still tapped and having a little bit of fun at their expense, this time. Fun also to be shared with my loyal friends, one being a Mr Oliver Reed, actor, who went so far as writing, with many other clients, to the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons. The Guernsey States, in despair, dispatched, in 1987, De Vic Cary QC (QC denoting a number of possible interpretations) to the RCVS convened court in London. He gave evidence, on oath, to have me struck off the veterinary register but failed miserably as my barrister, Conrad, proved him a congenital liar before the full court having had knowledge of the falsified police charge book and many other matters not needed for this, my witness statement. Disinformation was appropriately distributed by my telephone only.. This lead to no less than five police cars and a fire appliance, that night, being rushed to Conseillor Chilcotts house, a senior politician, with him and his family to be evacuated and for police and fire services to remain there until dawn when they finally realised they had been hoist by their own petard. I had been studying the black art of disseminating disinformation following my belated revelations during my uncomfortable night in the Alderney prison , referred to earlier, which caused me to win, as it later did again in South Wales, the new onslaught of charges, following De Vic Careys ignominious defeats in the court both in UK and Guernsey. Conseillor Chilcott, a butcher on the island, imported meat, on a regular basis, from South America which was almost bound to be infected with Foot and Mouth Disease, knowing he was putting the whole UK farming industry at risk. That might have been the reason he was targeted. But then, again, it may have because of this, below, published in their daily rag, at the time, now off the internet, having forgotten how to spell his stupid name and title... EXTRACT Association President Conseillor Bob Chilcott says that the play, Theresa, which is about the treatment of Jews in occupied Guernsey is 'disgusting and ... My St Martins second surgery of mine was filled with as many as fifty seven visiting UK citizens, to work and maintain their tourism industry, housing them in rooms, in the broom cupboard, vans or tents in garden whilst selling second hand cars off my front lawn, there being no Trade Description Act or effective MOT structure as prosecution on the island was purely based on who you were, not based on the hard evidence. They all had as much free homemade beer on a Sunday night, as they liked, out of two twenty gallon dustbins, the stupid place preventing real workers on the island from having any proper reward for their travails or right to buy a drink on a Sunday. Dark Ages or not the Dark not the Ages? The only day off but he cannot kill game. The mentality is still there in Wales, Im told. The house was regularly raided by police in the dead of night but only while I was conveniently locked up for a while in the 1811 built prison. Police would smash doors down with sledge hammers and prosecute those they chose did not have the funds to put up a legal argument in rebuttal. No legal Aid existed, heaven forbid, just think of the possible consequences. Those working in the banking industry were never prosecuted as neither were the foreign itinerant manual workers in my house, employed on a scandalous wage by the same handful of privileged few, who doubled up for both the courts and executive. The Guernseys police obsession in inflicting the maximum financial hardship causes me, as I write, reminds me to put up on my website a newspaper article, one from a large suit case of newspaper cutting from the then State controlled gutter press, all published but for one purpose. It is a picture of police attempting entry to my home with the story underneath with the head lines, Vet Detained for Psychiatric Report He may be insane-Police Doctor Again I appeared before the permanent all male jury in the notorious Royal Court, new members coming in, from time to time as members died off, being voted on by the HM prosecution. No lawyer could be safely employed from their incestuous world of insider dealings to fleece the UK tax payer. They, nearly all, revelled in their ill gotten gains, knowing no UK barrister or solicitor had right of audience in the last reminisce of 12th Century Normandy law. The very same tactic of media publicity I encountered when I came to live in Barry, South Wales. One such case, in Guernsey, of alleged drink drive the police doctor, not the afore mentioned but another, altered his notes during the trial leading to my successful application before the Bailiff for a witness summons to be served on his honest partner to confirm police examination procedure of a driver in custody was flawed and based on his erroneous and changed evidence (white pages turning pink overnight). Guernsey ensured there be no breath test or blood test, to secure a guilty verdict, should one of the privileged be in advertently stopped, unrecognised, by an overzealous young constable. The police doctor attempted to overturn his witness summons. Upon us returning from Royal Court, the single magistrate, sitting alone, ignored the Order by the permanent jury of the higher court, he also being a member of the permanent jury, so I informed him we would be arrested if he did not re consider overnight. At the next hearing, having secured the attendance of uniformed police I asked him again but he again refused. This led to a falsified charge sheet , done in the middle of the trial ordered by ACK Day, no less, prosecuting the case, from disorderly conduct carrying a maximum sentence of 200 to one of contempt of court for which I received a prison term of two days under 13 months. I feel this is enough history on thirty years of police surveillance, for the purposes of the current damages case against the South Wales Police simply to explain why I have had to remain quiet on the subject on this matter until now. South Wales Police........ 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