"The first thing that caught my eye was the geezer with the gold tooth—the second was that he was holding a shooter3and the third that he was pointing it at me." Carlton Leach is a gangland legend—the mere mention of his name strikes fear into his enemies; yet to his friends he is as loyal and caring as they come. If trouble comes calling, Carlton isn't afraid to let his fists do the talking and woe betide anyone who crosses him, or those close to him. At last Carlton gives the full account of his life including how his story has been made into a hugely successful film. Born and raised in East London, Carlton was a key member of the notorious Essex Boys gang and the West Ham InterCity Firm, one of the most violent hooligan gangs to trouble the football terraces during the 1980s. He's been shot at, stabbed, glassed—he's even had an axe in his head. Yet the event that really brought turmoil into his life was the murder of his best friend in the infamous Range Rover murders. Carlton vowed that he would find those responsible and make them pay. There isn't much that Carlton hasn't seen or experienced in his life and his tales of violence, gang wars and close calls with death will have you on the edge of your seat. He knows how close he has come to dying and has therefore shut the door on a gangland life. He may have changed but, as he himself says, "I'll always need to exercise the Carlton Leach brand of justice. It's in me." Carlton Leach is the author of Muscle . Rise of the Footsoldier 'In my Game, the Choice is a Jail or a Grave' By Carlton Leach John Blake Publishing Ltd Copyright © 2008 Carlton Leach/Mike Fielder All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-84454-769-2 Contents Title Page, Dedication, PREFACE, FOREWORD, 1 'ROID RAGE, 2 BIRTH OF A FOOTSOLDIER, 3 STREET FIGHTING BOY, 4 CARNAGE, 5 GHOSTS, 6 DOOR WARS, 7 BAD VIBRATIONS, 8 KING OF THE HOOLIGANS, 9 DUTCH COURAGE, 10 SORTED, 11 VIVA ESPAÑA, 12 CHEQUE MATE, 13 THE BENN YEARS, 14 MOLLS, 15 TALKING TURKEY, 16 WELCOME HOME, SON, 17 RAVING MAD, 18 FOUR MURDERS AND A FUNERAL, 19 THE NEXT GENERATION, 20 CRASH AND CARRY, 21 DANCING QUEEN, 22 RISE OF THE FOOTSOLDIER, About the Co-Author, Copyright, CHAPTER 1 'Roid Rage The first thing that caught my eye was that the geezer had a gold tooth. The second was that he was holding a shooter. And the third that he was pointing it at me. My door work and bodyguard work had taken me deep into gangland, into the dangerous world of the blaggers and the drug-dealers, turf wars and terminations. Now someone was coming to terminate me. With violence all around me for the last 20 years and my battle scars evident for all to see, I was now facing the possibility of an early epitaph on my tombstone. Strangely enough, at that moment in time, as dawn slowly lit up London and I stood facing the gunman beside the River Thames at Battersea, I didn't particularly care. I was fuelled up on steroids and speed, a 17-stone man-mountain, and I was feeling no pain. The drugs had made me feel invincible. The geezer with the .45 was not a threat, he was a challenge. I found myself shouting at him, 'Come on then, you cunt, shoot me.' My safety mechanism had snapped. That little man in my head who comes along when I'm in deep shit and says, 'Don't do it ... don't be silly now, Carlton,' had taken a hike. There was just this lunatic standing there, full of bravado, full of drugs, caution thrown to the wind, saying, 'Come on then, kill me.' The black geezer was getting closer, his eyes were wide and glazed, his face was a twisted smile, the gun hand unsteady. He was obviously out of it, probably crack. The smile wasn't because he was pleased to see me. We'd clashed earlier and he was back for revenge. Me and big Chris and a few other lumps were doing the door at a special boat party, members only, which had been laid on by some of the rave crowd. These two black guys had turned up and walked up the gangplank towards the boat. I told them it was invitation only. I could see some of the girls at the party looked scared. These two blokes had given them trouble earlier. I tried to be diplomatic. 'Look, mate, it's membership only and we've got our capacity on board.' The biggest of them muttered something like, 'I'm so and so, I go where I want.' I said, 'I don't give a fuck who you are. You're not welcome.' A fight kicked off and I grabbed him by the throat, pulled out a knife and said, 'Look, mate, we don't want this grief. You've caused the fucking problem. If you don't fuck off I'm going to drag you behind that tree and cut your fucking throat. How do you want it?' All the boys were on steroids those days and were pumped up and growling at everybody like wild animals. Not a pretty sight. Off the black guys went muttering dire threats that they'd be back to kill us. We were told they'd been trying to get on to the boat parties for a couple Used Book in Good Condition