What I learned from my father’s life of crime

I was on my way home from sixth-form college when I heard about Dad’s arrest for his alleged involvement in what, at the time, was the biggest heist in history. Three tonnes of bullion, along with platinum, jewellery and traveller’s cheques, had been taken from the Brink’s-Mat warehouse at Heathrow in the early hours of 26 November 1983.

Fifty police officers raided our house. Mum, pragmatic as ever, put the kettle on and even made a bacon sandwich for a WPC who complained that she’d missed her breakfast due to the early start.

Dad’s subsequent trial and conviction at the Old Bailey made worldwide headlines. He was jailed for ten years for conspiring to handle stolen goods, and fined £200,000.

I think about the Brink’s-Mat robbery every day and it seems it will bookend my life. I was little more than a child when it took place. Forty years later, books, podcasts, radio plays and television dramas about it still appear, and some of the gold remains on display at the Bank of England.

Early last year, we had the BBC’s The Gold. Although it was entertaining enough, the portrayals of the people in it whom I knew in real life were wide of the mark. After living in the shadow of Brink’s-Mat for so long, it was frustrating to see Dad so miscast. Of course, it was a dramatised account, so I wasn’t expecting to see someone who looked and sounded exactly like him, but there was nothing about the actor that in any way resembled him. Mum was so upset that she stopped watching the series after the first episode. ‘That’s not Dad,’ she said in disgust.