Profile of Darrell James - a former Hackney gangster

Clothed head to toe in black, Darrell James, 35, strides aggressively down the street, as if he owns the place – and five years ago he did.

Walking into the Hackney café, he drops heavily into a chair, removing his black leather gloves as he says, “I never go anywhere without these, the police have my prints.”

As a former member of the notorious E5 gang based in Clacton Park Estate a.k.a ‘The Square’, just off the Murder Mile, James speaks freely and animatedly about his gangster past, whilst drinking a cup of tea.

Brought up by his mother in a two bedroom flat, with 14 other siblings and cousins, James committed his first robbery aged only 11.

“We did it through frustration, and as a conquering thing. We felt like we had nothing, and we were angry. But once the money starts coming in, that’s it, it’s addictive. It makes you feel like a man and you just want more.” Smiling, and subconsciously thumbing his expensive-looking watch, he said: “I like nice things, I like shiny things, so I just did what I thought best to get it.”

But days before his seventeenth birthday James was thrown out of his family home, which he described as akin to The Waltons, after his mother discovered the extent of his thieving and that he was dealing cannabis with other boys on the estate.

Leaving home he went to live with a cousin in Stamford Hill, and that was when the real “beef” started. His cousin was the main crack cocaine dealer in Hackney, and had drummed up great hostility in the eyes of the other dealers. James became an “employee” of his cousin’s network, and so adopted his fights.

“One day four guys came to the house. As I opened the door slightly they started jabbing knives at me through the gap and through the letterbox. I couldn’t hold the door on my own and I knew there was a machete in the kitchen, so I let them in and ran for the blade. It all kicked off – people died for that attack. It all got really messy after that.”

Two months later James’ best friend Kenny was killed. A look of pained anger flitted across his eyes as he described how the killers had stolen a part of his life from him. Kenny was just one of the 18 friends that James “lost to the road” because of involvement in Hackney’s gang culture.

Violently thumping the table repeatedly he said: “It was my fault. I had become a top crack dealer and instead of hitting me, my rivals got those closest to me. I lost too many of my close brethren. It was like the grim reaper was living outside my house saying ‘right who’s going to die today?’”

It was then that reality began to strike, and James started to appreciate the damage that life on “the road” was doing to him and those around him. But it was only whilst serving four years in Brixton prison, for intent to supply drugs, that he realised it was time to change.

“Prison was hell” he said fiddling with his empty tea cup, “people get stabbed and raped in Brixie every day. Once you’ve heard a grown man scream, it will never leave you.

“Road had taken so much away from me and jail had taken my soul. It makes you cold to the world, it makes you like a tree that has been cut down and has no life in it. I didn’t cry, I didn’t sleep, I was just numb. I didn’t feel nothing for no-one.”

Ordering another cup of tea as if to start a new chapter, he continued, “I just couldn’t get back into the same thing that was going to lead me down the same path. Changes needed to be made – I look at my 4-year old nephew and I don’t want no man putting a gun or drugs into his hands.”

Once out of prison, James turned his back on “the road” and went to Hackney Police, who put him in touch with the Be Safe in Hackney scheme. Representing 30 years of death and street violence James now speaks at Parliamentary committees, City Hall, East-London schools and colleges, and to children on the street about the dangers of gang culture.

“It’s been really hard trying to get through to people, especially being a black, former criminal. But now I’ve learnt to fight with words – words are my bullets.”

“I feel responsible for these kids today – I feel guilt, a lot of guilt, because they watched us do what we did and they heard the stories about what we got up to, so now they are only following our lead. What example did we set?”

The interview buzz

As part of my Home Affairs course at City University we were asked to interview a perpetrator or a victim of crime and write a profile piece based on the interview.

I decided that this was an opportunity to throw myself into the deep end - but little did I realise what I was really letting myself in for.

I arranged an interview with Darrell James, notorious former Hackney gangster. Having decided to leave "the road" the former member of the E5 gang now uses his time to encourage youths across the capital to put down their weapons.

I have to admit that I was ever so slightly apprehensive before meeting him - what could I expect?

The man that greated me outside Hackney station ticked none of the boxes that I had naively assumed he would. He was a maze of contradictions, and a true battle to interview.

Ann McFerran, my university tutor, and features writer for the Sunday Times, once told us in a class that you should never enjoy an interview, and that you should never come away from it feeling comfortable. This was certainly the case with Darrell James.

Three hours, two cups of tea, and two dictaphone batteries later, I left him feeling physically exhausted but with adrenalin pumping through my body. I had just interviewed a man about his murderous past - gruesome details and all - and although I felt slightly shaken by some of his comments, it gave me a buzz.

I had felt intensely uncomfortable in his presence, and at times threateded by his aggression, but the material was fantastic, and the opportunity to talk to him and extract that information was so worth it. Now I just want more!

Article: Will the British ever embrace veal to protect the calves?

Mark Felstead walks nervously across the field, his wellies squelching in the mud underfoot. His dairy cows are calving. He knows, like other dairy farmers, the potential quandary that may lie ahead.

Two calves have been born – two male calves. With a sinking heart Mr. Felstead walks back to his Gloucestershire farmhouse and makes the call. With the calves representing no commercial value in the beef industry, farmers like Mr. Felstead have only two options – have the calves shot within hours of birth, or have them sold into the Continental veal industry to be raised in conditions illegal in the UK. He is told that the calves will be dead within four hours.

Of the half a million male dairy calves born each year, approximately 150,000 of them are shot within hours of birth, and 350,000 are sold to countries such as the Netherlands to make veal, before their meat becomes too tough.

But now there is a third viable option waiting in the wings for these unwanted by-products of the dairy industry – all that is needed, is for the British consumer to pencil rose veal onto their weekly shopping list.

Already it is thought that 1,000 calves are being raised annually on British veal farms, but a unique campaign wants to endorse this struggling industry and take it to new heights.

The Good Veal Campaign, led by DEFRA, and comprising an unprecedented mix of veal producers, animal rights groups, and supermarkets has announced that it aims to publicly develop the fledgling British veal industry as a means of improving the plight of male dairy calves, and boosting the British farming economy.

A spokesman for the National Farmers Union (NFU) said: “The key is to develop home markets. The more veal you eat in this country, the greater the incentive for farmers to rear veal calves here instead of shooting them or exporting them.”

This may seem like an obvious and simple solution, but there is one major hurdle still to be overcome – veal remains steeped in stigma and controversy, with the British public having shown nothing but reluctance to dish up the succulent meat at the dining table.

According to the English Beef and Lamb Executive veal accounts for a mere 0.1 per cent of meat bought, and only one in every 100 households will consider buying it. After achieving success through the anti-veal campaigns of the 1980s that led to veal crates being outlawed, the British public has shown very little interest in either the meat or the plight of the calves.

Helen Browning, the owner of Eastbrook Farm in Wiltshire, one of the few rose veal producers in the UK, said: “As the industry gets to its feet, we are really going to need the support of the British public, but this it not going to come until veal myths have been bust open. The public’s understanding of veal is still shrouded in archaic preconceptions of the business.”

For many of us the mere mention of veal conjures images of calves kept in cramped, dark crates, being fed only a liquid diet. But contrary to this, the 20 calves raised on Eastbrook Farm, live for 6 months and spend much of this time outdoors, feeding on grass. And this treatment is consistent on all veal farms in Britain.

“With a life span of six months they live twice as long as even the slowest growing chickens” explains Mrs. Browning, “and they have the same life span as a good organic pig, and longer than many organic lambs.”

But whatever myth-busting the farmers succeed in passing on, the voice of anti-veal campaigners mutters on in the background, influencing many with their sensational imagery. Amy Mason, head of campaigns at Viva! said: “Home-gown veal is just not a solution. These animals are still treated in a disgraceful manner and the industry should be boycotted not encouraged.” Other groups like British Meat go so far as to declare that the plight of veal calves is “comparable to any Nazi concentration camp.”

With this, the stigma is perpetuated amongst the shoppers. Luke Stanmore, 24, was totally unaware that veal crates had been outlawed in Britain 18-years ago, and Georgina Matthews, 34, a self-confessed ethical eater, admitted that she would not even consider eating veal.

She said: “I eat only organic and free-range meats, but I still think of veal as being cruel. I would be too embarrassed to put it in my basket and queue at the check out, or throw a dinner party and say ‘hey, it’s veal on the menu tonight’”.

With such ingrained misconception about the veal industry, the Good Veal Campaign has much work to do before the meat starts to fill our fridges.

History, however, suggests that there might be a glimmer of hope. The tender meat has not always had such a damning reputation, and before World War Two veal was incredibly popular amongst British consumers. It was only with post-war rationing that its popularity subsided as it was seen to be uneconomical to slaughter such young animals.

To reinstate veal to its former prime and rid the industry of controversy, persistence will be necessary. Hugh Fernley Whittingstall’s televised Chicken Out Campaign stands as a testament to how the nation can easily be whipped into ethical debate, and how defiant campaigning does eventually bear fruit – and veal is by no means lacking in stout allies.

Fighting to eradicate the taboo of the pink meat, celebrity chefs such as Gordon Ramsey and Rick Stein are promoting veal-based recipes, whilst restaurants like Bibendum in Kensington and The Ivy on Park Lane have added British veal to their menus in a bid to create a more desirable image for the meat. Actress Joanna Lumley has also jumped on board and is petitioning to bring an end to calf exports to the Continental veal industry.

Supermarkets too, like Tesco, Waitrose and Marks & Spencer, are supporting the Good Veal Campaign and have discontinued stocks of the controversial, and cheaper, Continental white veal.

But will this be enough to convert a nation apparently so intent on boycotting veal?

Money matters, and can make or break campaigns such as this. With veal dishes costing up to £25 in Central London restaurants, and up to £5 for two escallops in Tesco, many households will feel that ethical veal is just unaffordable, and this could be a big deciding factor.

Veal producers, however, are desperate to reassure consumers that production is already increasing and this will soon result in prices dropping. Helen Browning said: “We have seen demand for our veal increase threefold over the past year. Consumers need to look past the price, to the welfare of the animals. It is starting to happen with chickens, people are opting for slightly more expensive free-range chicken, so I am confident the same will happen for veal.”

Only time will tell, however, if veal can make its mark on the British dinner table. But with 2008 already shaping up to be the year of ethical farming, the success of the on-going Chicken Out Campaign bodes well for the future of male dairy calves. Whether death comes only hours after birth with a bullet to the head, a couple of months later in a dark Dutch veal shed, or after six months of living in green fields, it is not ultimately a choice for the dairy farmer. It is for the British consumer to decide.