originally by: The Guardian
published: 28 February 2014
Carole Duggan doesn’t want us to meet at her house, because she’s sure it has been bugged. She thinks her mobile has also been tapped, so we don’t decide on an alternative venue over the phone. We can’t make arrangements by email, either, because her laptop was stolen in a recent break-in.
It might have been just a random burglary, of course – but the thief was uncommonly tidy, didn’t touch her cash and other valuables, and stole only the computer and a phone. Besides, even if no one is listening in, she’s still wary about talking to me.
The press keep twisting her words, she says, and she worries that whatever she says will be used against her by the Daily Mail and the Sun. So we agree to meet at the train station in Manchester, and take it from there.
Your opinion of what she says during the five hours we spend together will depend almost entirely on your opinion of the police. If you trust the police, you will probably believe their claim that her nephew was one the most dangerous gangsters in Europe, and had been armed with a gun when officers pulled him over. It will sound perfectly plausible that in that split-second drama, the policeman who shot him dead honestly believed he saw the gun in his hand.