Lets rewind to the year 1990… The ever tepid John Major was our illustrious Prime Minister and Jim Henson (who created the Muppets), had only recently died.
And very early on one sunny Sunday morning, myself and my family were all woken up by a knock on our door, which turned out to be the British Transport Police!
They proceeded to turn my house upside down and then once they had everything they needed they took me to Streatham Police Station and interviewed me.
My Dad had called his solicitor who met me at the station and advised me what to say and do, so we agreed to hold our hands up to the 2 trains they were asking me about and say nothing more than that.
It’s amazing when you say so little, the Police, tend to give up a lot of information I guess to fill in the silent gaps… And they very soon explained to me the reason they arrested me was because they found my tag name and telephone number, as well as about another 30 graffiti writers in a small address book that belonged to a young teenager called Alfie who was better known to most as the graffiti writer Tera IBS. The police kept grilling me for a good hour mainly about a writer called Prime and another called Mear, who was and still is a very good friend of mine. I said nothing about either, even when they produced photos in my portfolio of Mear standing next to a train he had painted on Kensington High Street Station, I simply said it looked like a good photo opportunity and my friend Mear was there.
Here’s where I’ll introduce Drax. Drax and I had hung out a little, we’d also painted a completely abstract end to end train together which alas I no longer have photos of. Drax had befriended me because he knew that if he was to get anywhere in this thing he’d have to attach himself to people much better than himself. We spent a few evenings sat in my car outside spots waxing lyrical about the endless possibilities of making art on trains and other things.
Anyway, suffice to say the police asked me about the train we did together and my brief said are you prosecuting Remi for that one? The police said no and my brief said well we’ll answer questions on the ones he’s admitted to then and nothing else.
I should also add at this point that Drax was arrested the same morning as me by different policemen as his name was also in Tera’s little address book.
So the questions ended, I’d given my admittance for 2 underground trains, one little met and a piccadilly line train and I was subsequently let out on bail.
A court case began a few weeks later which went on for 3 months and was decided it needed to go to Crown Court mainly because Mear had been arrested again whilst out on bail and my case was attached to his. In all the court case went on for almost 9 months.
Finally I was sentenced to 280 hours of community service which I began in a care home in Bedford Hill. I spent 4 hours every saturday for the next 16 months painting walls with emulsion, sugar soaping dirt off walls, sanding floors and other such highly mundane activities. After the Care home I was sent to a youth community centre in Clapham to do the same and finally I spent the last few weeks of my community service working at a community centre gardens in Vauxhall and I remember my last ever day as it was the 5th November and even though I’d finished and could leave I stayed to help the young people from the estate to set up their fireworks party for that evening. One of the most enjoyable fireworks parties I have ever been to…
Now back to Drax… This guy has accused me of being the one who gave him up even though it’s common knowledge to every single writer who was arrested on that fateful day that it was their own faults for giving little Tera their names and numbers. He began a series of phone calls to my home in the early 90′s although never actually doing it himself as he’s completely spineless, he used to get his friends to do it instead and verbally abuse me and my parents down a phone line… So brave. He even persuaded Goldie to do it one time? Hilarious…
He also got one of his friends to try and hit me once at a graffiti jam in Birmingham where he and some of his friends came, sat behind where I was painting and tried (rather unsuccessfully I should add), to intimidate me. His friend missed me by the way and then they hurriedly all ran off into their minibus to drive back to London.
I did not stand up in court and give evidence against him, I wasn’t presented as a witness in any way and more to the point he didn’t even do any time? All he got was community service like me even though he was up for over a quarter of a million pounds worth of damage and I was up for a little under 2000 pounds worth criminal damage…
Maybe that’s because his dad was a policeman, which not many people know and I’m sure that once you’re in that world you get looked after by your own, but I am making an assumption there and don’t know, to be fair to him, so I shan’t comment any further on that.
This man has verged on obsessive having stalked me and followed my exploits enough to every now and then pop up and try and harm either my reputation or indeed me… But again I must emphasise never actually doing it himself.
So anyway, fast forward to 2013… And this 40 something (Nearer 50 than 40 I think), still harps on about something he made up in his head almost a quarter of a century ago, possibly spurred on by innate jealousy? or maybe because he still lives at home with his mum and has little else to do with his life? or maybe because deep down he truly believes his own bullshit. Whatever the reason, he has refused to grow up… I on the other hand have a family, a career and tend not to think about him very much unless he gets one of his little cronies to go over a painting as he’s just done in East London. Again, all this from a man now in his late forties…??
So suffice to say, I can sleep at night knowing full well that I did not say a single word about any other writer, Mear was interviewed and subsequently sentenced whilst standing right next to me and they wanted him a lot more than any other people that they mentioned and he and I both know the truth, as do a lot of others.
It’s funny I’ve never really told this story in full as I find it so unimportant compared to being able to pay the mortgage, studio rent and raise my daughter… But recalling it makes me wonder what all the fuss is about?
The fact that one man is still so angry about the fact he gave his number to a little kid that wrote it next to his tag in his address book is way beyond me… You have to feel sorry for anyone that can’t let go of something (especially when it’s not even true), after almost a quarter of a century. And the people that listen to him and take his word as verbatim are equally as spineless in my book…
And there was me thinking we’re all supposed to be grown ups now???