This previously unpublished eye-witness account from former police firearms officer, Geoff Cadman, casts an intriguing light on a significant event in UK policing history and reveals a previously unknown secret.

During the evening of March 20^th 1974, HRH Princess Anne was in the back of a Vanden Plas limousine with her husband, Captain Mark Phillips. Up front, sat protection officer Jim Beaton, as they were being driven along The Mall towards Buckingham Palace.

Without warning, a white Ford Escort swerved in front of their car, blocking their path and forcing their chauffeur to bring the luxury car a rapid halt. A lone figure emerged from the Escort. He was holding a gun. Within seconds, both chauffeur and protection officer had been shot and disabled.

“I want you to come with me for a day or two, because I want 2 million,” her erstwhile kidnapper, Ian Ball, is said to have told the Princess as he pulled open the rear door of the Vanden Plas. With him, Ball had two pairs of handcuffs, Valium tranquillisers and a prepared ransom note for Queen Elizabeth.

“Not bloody likely,” Princess Anne replied.

A reporter, who recognised the Royal car, tried to intervene. Ball responded by shooting him in the chest. A police officer, Constable Michael Hills, then arrived at the scene and he too was shot in the stomach.

Surrounded by blood, injured men and broken glass, Princess Anne later told the police she wondered if she would have to fight Ball off herself. “It was all so infuriating; I kept saying I didn’t want to get out of the car, and I was not going to get out of the car,” she said.

The account that follows has not previously been published. An extract from his personal memoir, it was provided to me by former police firearms officer, Geoff Cadman and is reproduced with his permission.

‘Alpha Delta…I’ve Been Shot…‘

March 20th, 1974, two weeks after the General Election that ousted the Conservative Government of
Edward Heath, one of my colleagues, Pc Michael Hills, was on a 2-10 pm shift, patrolling on foot
near St. James’s Palace in The Mall.  It was dark, but Buckingham Palace was bathed in light, a few
minutes walk away; day or night it always impressed. Mick was young in service, still in his two-year probationary period.  A quietly spoken young man, he was always very smartly turned out and
sported a neatly trimmed beard.  It had been a fairly quiet shift with about two hours remaining, when
he heard what he thought was a car backfiring followed by a brief burst of raised voices.  He was
some distance away but decided to investigate and turned towards the noise.  Within a minute, he
could make out stationary vehicles and a familiar looking black limousine, a car of the Royal
Household. Mick reached for his radio, pressed the talk button and radioed Cannon Row to report that
he thought a Royal car may have been involved in a traffic accident and that he was going to
investigate.  The first reserve officer acknowledged the message and awaited an update.   The next
message that came over the airwaves was a chiller, ‘Alpha Delta from 736 I’ve been shot…. I’ve been
shot’.

Unbeknown to Pc Hills, a man named Ian Ball had executed a plan that he had been developing for
several years. His intention was to kidnap HRH Princess Anne and demand a £3 million ransom.  Ball
was cunning and resourceful; he had also been diagnosed as schizophrenic and suffering from chronic
depression.  Despite his medical condition his plan was remarkably detailed, and he had even acquired
two handguns and plenty of ammunition; he was a very dangerous man. Earlier that evening he had
followed the Royal car containing Princess Anne, her personal protection office and her husband of
four months, Captain Mark Phillips. They had driven from their home to a scheduled charity film
event in the city. Having watched them arrive, Ball waited patiently for them to leave the cinema and
as they commenced the return journey he was again on their tail, looking for an opportune moment to
strike. As the veteran Royal car headed up The Mall, Ball knew his moment had arrived. He made his
move, accelerating past the slow-moving Daimler and then cut in front of it, braking sharply and
forcing it to stop.  He jumped out, guns in both hands, and confronted the chauffeur.  The Princess’s
personal protection officer, 31-year-old Inspector Jim Beaton, assumed it was an irate motorist and
prepared to intervene.  You might wonder why he did not report this immediately via radio. The
answer is simple, the Queen did not allow police radios to be fitted in her cars.  As Beaton approached
Ball, he failed to notice a handgun being pointed at the Royal chauffeur, even as Ball turned to face
him. It was very dark, and street lighting was minimal. Ball immediately fired two shots from a .38
revolver hitting Beaton in the shoulder, the bullet puncturing his right lung.  Even after the impact from the bullet hitting him at 900 feet per second, Beaton was unaware that he had been shot, let alone
seriously injured.  The human body is quite remarkable in how it deals with damage.

Armed with a 9mm Walther, Jim Beaton had undergone exactly the same basic firearms training as I
had, although it didn’t include wound ballistics or the effects of gunshot wounds. For those of us who
carried firearms on a daily basis, there was no body armour.  With the instant release of adrenaline into
his body, Beaton was reacting on instinct. He felt for his pistol. If he had performed his ‘make-ready’
drills correctly there would be a round ready and waiting in the breech, and with the safety catch off, it
only needed a squeeze of the trigger.  His drills were correct, and he drew the Walther and got off a
shot towards Ball, but it was not a good one.

Beaton, now in shock, was still unaware of his weakened right arm and so his shot was wide of the
mark, shattering a window as it entered the Royal car.  Some years later Princess Anne would recount
that near miss during a television interview.  Recalling the moment she heard the bullet hit the car and
shower her with glass, she was convinced the police bullet passed near her head; it may well have
done.  Still running on adrenalin, Beaton was trying to make sense of his predicament, but in these
moments of high stress the human brain’s superpowers come into play, one of which causes
something called perceptual distortion. Jim Beaton now realises he’s been shot and that he must fight
to survive but, in his own words, he was in a drunken-like state perceiving everything in slow motion,
not hearing properly because his brain was prioritising his actions, filtering out the unnecessary.  His
weapon drills came into play as he tried to re-position for a second shot.  As he brought the pistol up,
supporting his weakened arm by his fully functional one, he squeezed the trigger.  Nothing happened.
Looking down he noticed the slide half closed. The second bullet of seven had failed to feed fully into
the breech due to the magazine spring having failed to feed it into position. A fresh magazine was the
only option because from the moment he holstered that Walther at the start of his duty it was only ever
going to fire once.  Had both hands been fully functional he might have swapped magazines in
seconds, but Jim Beaton did not have those precious, life-saving seconds. The Royal chauffeur
suddenly grabbed Ball’s arm but was immediately shot in the chest at point blank range and
incapacitated – and all this was happening without the alarm being raised.  They were on their own.

Ball’s frustration was on the rise. He wrenched open the passenger door, reached in and grabbed the
Princess by the arm.  A tug of war started as Princess Anne refused to get out of the car.  Beaton made
one last gallant effort to protect the Princess.  It was adrenaline and will power that drove him to crawl
back into the Royal car and place himself between the Princess and the gunman who was still standing
by the door, frustrated and desperate.  Ball, still stood in the road, aimed his gun at Beaton who
instinctively raised his hand just as another shot was fired, the bullet shattering another window and
lodging in Beaton’s hand.  Ball then wrenched the door open and shot him a third time, the bullet passing through his stomach and intestines before lodging in his pelvis. It was Ball’s last shot with the
.38 – but he still had the second gun.  Beaton was now grievously wounded and in urgent need of
emergency surgery and still the alarm hadn’t been raised, but all that was about to change.  Enter Pc
Michael Hills.

Still unaware of the horror that was unfolding in the darkness, Mick Hills crossed The Mall from near
Clarence House, then home to Her Majesty The Queen Mother.  Coming up behind Ball he tapped
him on the shoulder just as someone shouted ‘gun’.  Ball turned and on seeing Hills immediately shot
him in the midriff causing the officer to stagger to the rear of the car where he passed the first
shocking radio message, “Alpha Delta, I’ve been shot”. The Reserve officer was my former tutor
constable Dick Lee who didn’t quite believe his ears and responded with, “736 say again” to which
Mick, now collapsed by the side of the Royal car, repeated his message adding as much information
as his racing mind and rapidly weakening body would allow. He had been shot in the gut from a .22
handgun, the chrome-jacketed high velocity bullet zipping through three layers of clothing and into
his abdomen before embedding itself next to his liver.  At last, the alarm was raised.  Hills showed
great presence of mind and his message to Cannon Row was immediately re-broadcast to police units
across Central London.  Assistance would be coming at last.  Cannon Row’s armed response vehicle,
call sign Alpha 102, happened to be in the rear yard and within seconds it was full of officers who had
dropped everything and piled in. It roared into Whitehall, a blue light and sound show, as other units
from neighbouring divisions were doing the same, the increasing sound of their approach sending the
message of hope Mick Hills was desperately waiting for; ‘hang on chum, we’re coming for you’.

Courage is not a clear-cut quality and although much aggrandised in novels or when such actions are
lauded in post incident accounts, often written by those who weren’t there, it manifests in many
ways.  Some have it in abundance, some definitely don’t, while it remains a latent quality in others
and there are many variables in between that can both incite or erode it.  Many acts of courage result
from an adrenaline rush enabling the responses of ‘fight or flight’ and, as was the case on this night, it
can be fuelled by scant information and an abundance of confusion.  The ironic expression often used
by American pro-gun owners, “when seconds count, the police are only minutes away” could not
have been more appropriate in this situation. My Cannon Row colleague Geoff Jackson recalled:
“I was working [in the reserve office] with First Reserve Dick Lee. It was coming up to 8pm, when a
radio call was made by PC Mick Hills “Alpha Delta, I think there has been an accident involving a
Royal car”. Dick answered. I went to the front office to let the Station Sergeant Bruce Peardon know.
 Bruce let out a couple of expletives. As I re-entered the Reserve room I heard Mick on the radio
again, it was very serious, “Alpha Delta, I’ve been shot, I’ve been shot”.  I ran across the room to the
open window and leapt through to the inner yard and into the drivers’ room. I burst into the room where three of the drivers were sitting and shouted what was happening. We all ran to one of the
police cars and left Cannon Row at high speed for the Mall”.

With her personal protection officer critically injured, a uniformed police officer shot and
incapacitated and a useless police pistol lying in the road, things were not looking good for the
Queen’s only daughter.  PC Hills spotted Beaton’s Walther on the ground and picked it up with the
intention of having a crack at Ball, but he wasn’t firearms trained and even if he were the weapon’s
unserviceable magazine spring had rendered it useless.  Hills had a bullet in his liver, was bleeding
internally and coughing blood.  Now in shock, he too was out of the fight.  An intervention, divine or
otherwise, was needed to fill the critical gap until the rapidly advancing cavalry arrived.  Just when all
appeared lost, along came some unsuspecting members of the British public, soon to become heroes. 
Another chauffeur in a Jaguar had stopped just as Ball fired his first shots.  The driver, Glenmore
Martin, approached Ball and was threatened with the gun. He wisely backed away but had the
presence of mind to reverse the Jaguar right up to Ball’s car to block it in.  Then on seeing the injured
PC Hills lying in the road he immediately went to his assistance.  Two other members of the public
had seen the disturbance as they drove along The Mall in separate vehicles. Both stopped to
intervene.  Brian McConnell, a journalist, was passing in a taxi when he spotted the commotion and
ordered his driver to stop.  He walked over to Ball and tried to speak nicely to him, but Ball was in no
mood for conversation and fired another shot. Down went his fourth victim with a bullet in the chest.

Then came a knight-in-shining-armour by the name of Ron Russell, a six feet five inches tall amateur
heavyweight boxer.  He had seen PC Hills gunned down and with no thought for his own safety he
strode towards Ball who, having just shot McConnell, had returned to the Royal car still intent on the
kidnap. As The Princess continued to remonstrate with Ball, big Ron struck him a hefty punch to the
head, but it wasn’t enough to stop him; he turned and immediately fired his pistol.  The .22 bullet
narrowly missed Ron but hit the windscreen of a passing London taxi, a lucky escape for the
unsuspecting driver.  Ball then ran around the limousine after Ron who had now recognised the
Princess and was lifting her out with the intention of walking her to safety. Ball confronted Ron and at
arm’s length he levelled the gun at him.  Realising this was his ‘do or die’ moment Ron instinctively
delivered a mighty uppercut to Ball’s chin and down he went, just as police units arrived in a
crescendo of two-tone horns and squealing tyres. It was less than two two minutes after PC Hills
crucial radio message.  The scene that greeted those responding officers was utterly bewildering.  The
only thing they knew for certain was that a PC had been shot and a gunman was on the loose in the
vicinity. Geoff Jackson describes his arrival:
“We all dived out and dispersed.  I saw a man sitting with his back against a tree; he was holding his
chest. There was a lady with him. This man was journalist Brian McConnell. The lady later
complained that police had taken a long time to arrive [she would not have known that the alarm had only been raised less than 2 minutes earlier] further up was a male lying on his back half on the
pathway with an injury to his right hand, which was bleeding. PC Steve Rose was looking after him.  I
ran up to the Royal Car where I saw the chauffeur. He was injured, still sitting in the driver’s seat. He
told me to go to the back of the car.  As I reached the door I stood back in disbelief as HRH The
Princess Ann said, “Get an Ambulance, get an ambulance quick”.  I told her that one had been called
already.  Princess Anne moved back into the car along with Captain Mark Phillips and her Lady in
Waiting.  My lasting memory of Princess Anne was that she was in ‘full colour’ and knew exactly
what she was doing. She was totally in control”.

Geoff and his colleagues were acting on their initiative.  As with all fast-moving incidents, especially
where lives are at risk from gunfire or knives, there is no time to stop for a detailed briefing or to read
a policy manual; immediate action is required.  We called it planning on the hoof. There is always an
initial lack of cohesion that the casual observer might see as ‘chaotic’, but police officers are trained
to act on their own initiative as well as with each other.   More police units were arriving from several
directions including an Area Car with three PCs on board who, although they didn’t realise it, were
about to bring this dramatic incident to a desperately needed close. That Area Car, callsign ‘Delta 1’
was a powerful Triumph 2.5pi from Marylebone Lane police station and driven by PC Ivor
MacGregor QPM, a dependable and experienced officer. The R/T operator was PC Mick Ball, with 18
months service and in the back seat was a former cadet buddy of mine, PC Phil Harris, who had
completed his crucial first two years’ service that very day.  Phil recently told me of his part in the
incident, something that until now he had never openly discussed.  The story of Phil and his comrades
in Delta 1 shines a whole different light on the incident and deserves to come out of the shadows. Phil
takes up the story:
“I was posted foot patrol that day from Marylebone Lane police station on the Marble Arch beat. 
Delta 1 had stopped for me to have a short break. Over the mains radio came a call to a ‘fight’ in the
Mall’ and immediately my ears pricked up albeit I wasn’t officially posted to Delta 1, but given how
near it was..Park Lane, Hyde Park Corner, Constitution Hill and into the Mall, I made the decision to
stay in the car as Mick accepted the call. We took off at speed and I remember hearing another
message from Cannon Row reserve room saying someone had been shot”.

Phil’s words took me straight back to the buzz of Area Car duty. I know from personal experience the
feeling that hits you on hearing such a chilling message.  It’s like an electric shock; the physiological
reaction being automatic, commonly known as the ‘fight or flight’ response preparing you for action. 
There are no higher thought processes. Adrenaline is released causing the heart rate to increase, senses
are heightened, unnecessary functions like taste, smell, even hearing can be filtered out.  Time
becomes meaningless and things appear to play out in slow motion.  The officers responding to that
call chose the ‘fight’ response, as all good cops do, and they all knew they were racing into danger.

There was no clear picture of what lay ahead; the one and only call for assistance was a four second
radio message from a police officer who had just been shot in the gut and was struggling to remain
lucid. Delta 1 arrived mere seconds after Geoff Jackson, with other units close behind them.  As they
dived out of their car, all three officers had adrenaline coursing through their veins, with all their
senses working flat out. They acted quickly, cutting through the confusion, prioritising their actions.
Scanning the scene, they see a taxi; a fancy limousine with shattered windows, glass everywhere; an
empty Ford Escort; people lying in the road bleeding; one’s police; one’s slumped against a tree
bleeding; others are lying bleeding on the road; where’s the gunman; a dark figure gets to his feet;
someone shouts, “there he goes”. It was a very short pursuit; Ball had barely gone a few paces before
he was rugby tackled to the ground, spread-eagled; there’s a revolver in his hand. He’s quickly
disarmed. It’s all over in seconds.  Ian Ball, the highly dangerous chronic schizophrenic who had just
shot four people and attempted to shoot a fifth whilst attempting to kidnap Princess Anne was
detained at last, his rampage was over and yet those who had just caught him were still totally
unaware of the sheer magnitude of events that had taken place just ten minutes before. 

With Ball detained and disarmed, the breathless crew of Delta 1 took stock of the situation.  They
were still holding Ball on the ground, still full of adrenaline and breathing heavily, when a man in
plain clothes appears right next to them. Where did he come from? They didn’t see him before, but
then they probably wouldn’t have, totally focussed as they were in flattening Ball. He identifies
himself as CID. They get to their feet and realising this is definitely a job for CID, Phil hands their
prisoner over to him. He is Temporary Detective Constable (T/DC) Peter Edmonds who, with others,
escorts Ball to Cannon Row police station. Edmonds had been on duty with a Detective sergeant and a
plain clothes Pc driving in an unmarked CID ‘Q’ car.  These were essentially unmarked Area Cars,
high performance vehicles, always driven by a Class 1 driver also in plain clothes.  They had heard
the call for assistance and had immediately responded, arriving seconds behind Delta 1. Lots of very
serious incidents often have an amusing moment and this one was no exception. As Ball was being
marched out of the park to a police car, the taxi driver whose windscreen had just been shattered by
the stray bullet intended for Ron Russell, came storming up and gave the restrained Ball a right old
cockney dressing down for damaging his cab, having no idea of the enormity of what had just
happened; a surreal moment.  Several years later on the “Parkinson” TV show, Princess Anne would
describe Ball’s capture as him being “smothered by the local rugby team”, after which she was
quickly ushered from the scene by officers from Cannon Row, as Geoff Jackson observed:
“.. there was a commotion at the front of the Royal Car and several officers, some in plain clothes,
came past me with Ball and loaded him into the back of a Police Traffic Division car with my Cannon
Row colleague Alan Minis.  Geoff Fitzsimmons had got Princess Anne into another police car and
whisked her off at speed to Buckingham Palace”.

With the Royals safely inside Buckingham Palace and Ball in custody at Cannon Row, a different type
of hard graft was about to begin. A case against Ball had to be prepared starting with answers to some
basic but vital questions:  Who is this man?  Is he a terrorist? Was he acting alone? Why was he doing
this?  This would be a job for experienced investigators; one must remember that, in the eyes of the
Law, Ball was only a suspect who remained innocent until proven guilty.  Enter the CID and the
‘Guv’nors’. Geoff Jackson again:
“More officers turned up of various ranks and took over the running of the scene. I was surprised at
how some had arrived, one being PC Alex Rozmus, who had been on duty at Wellington Arch police
station [Hyde Park Corner] and who’d raced to the scene on his own motorcycle, in his shirt sleeves
and minus a crash helmet.  A CID Car or ‘Q’ boat’ as we called it, had also arrived, and it was with
the plain clothes officers that we surveyed the scene, locating the weapons in the gutter. Inspector Jim
Beaton’s Walther seemed to be jammed with a round facing inwards jammed in the slide.  We also saw
a revolver and some empty cartridges. This all stayed where it was and kept secure waiting for
forensic support”.

The following day the three officers from Delta 1 were stood before their boss (the Chief
Superintendent of D Division).  A highly respected man, he was clearly very proud of his three men
and having praised them for their actions he commented briefly about a discrepancy that he knew was
developing within the investigation team.  A few days later he had his personal driver deliver the three
officers to New Scotland Yard in his official car, a rare honour for the young constables. They had
been summoned to see the Commissioner, Sir Robert Mark.  Also present at this meeting was Peter
Edmonds, who they learnt had been immediately elevated from a ‘temporary’ to a ‘substantive’
detective as a reward for his part in the arrest.  Official photographs were taken of the ceremony with
the Commissioner commending his men.  Phil Harris recalled how DC Edmonds appeared
uncomfortable on meeting them.  The incident was world news but that would start to ebb, as news
generally does, however it would flow again at the subsequent trial and the award ceremonies at
Buckingham Palace.

Several days after his audience with The Commissioner, PC Phil Harris was seen by a detective from
the investigation team who wanted to discuss what he referred to as ‘discrepancies’ as to what had
taken place.  This must have caused some anxiety for the twenty-one-year-old officer and his
colleagues in Delta 1.  The statement that was released to the media, and which eventually became the
official account of Ball’s arrest, stated that T/DC Edmonds, “saw a man with a gun running across
St James’s Park. Edmonds gave chase and, although threatened with the gun, threw his coat over
the fugitive’s head, forced him to the ground and arrested him”? (The Daily Telegraph, March 15th, 2005 –
Obituary, Peter Edmonds). 

That was quite some discrepancy; hardly a smothering by the local rugby team as described by
Princess Anne.  As deferential as he was to the high-ranking detective, twenty-one-year-old constable
Harris remained steadfast as to what had happened and that his original statement, made before he and
his colleagues went off duty, was an accurate account of the events and therefore he had no cause to
correct, alter or add anything. There was no doubt that Edmonds was in close proximity to the pursuit,
because he quickly appeared next to Phil Harris and the Delta 1 crew whilst they were still holding
Ball on the ground.  He certainly assumed responsibility for the prisoner from the moment Ball was
handed into his custody by Phil Harris. So what happened in the ensuing stages of the CID
investigation that resulted in that alternative version being presented to the news media? This
information, with its juxtaposition of the actions of the Delta 1 officers and DC Edmonds, was
received with much surprise and indignation by Phil and his colleagues and may have explained the
discomfiture detected in DC Edmonds when they’d all met in the Commissioner’s office. One must
remember that they were all very young in service and that challenging their senior officers was out of
the question.  None of them were the type that would seek conflict.

Regardless of who did what the police got the right man, of that there is no doubt. Ian Ball had a
severe psychological disorder diagnosed several years before the attempted kidnapping and also had
several minor criminal convictions.  He had never been jailed for them, but neither was he
successfully treated for his illness.  Exactly how someone with a record of petty criminal offences and
a chronic mental illness managed to travel to Spain, obtain two firearms, lots of ammunition and then
smuggle them back into the UK was never fully established, but mental illness is something that
confronts the police on a daily basis.  After questioning and initial enquiries, Ball was taken to Bow
Street Magistrates Court.  I was on duty that day and as he was taken from the cells, I was among the
small group who escorted him across the yard to the van. He was bluntly asked, ‘why did you shoot
our mate?’  With his expressionless eyes staring straight ahead and in a monotone voice he replied,
‘He was in the way.’ After what was quite a short period on remand in custody, he appeared before
Lord Chief Justice Widgery at The Old Bailey on charges of attempted murder, attempted kidnapping
and other serious crimes associated with that night.  After his plea of guilty, and on hearing from a
Home Office psychiatrist of his severe mental illness, he was sentenced to be detained under the
Mental Health Act in one of the UK’s three high-security psychiatric hospitals, where he remains to
this day.

In the aftermath, Inspector Jim Beaton was awarded the George Cross, sometimes referred to as the
civilian VC.  PC Mick Hills and Mr Ron Russell got the George Medal.  Mr. Callander the Royal
chauffeur, Mr McConnell the journalist and DC Peter Edmonds each received The Queens Gallantry
Medal (QGM).   The driver of the Jaguar, Glenmore Martin, got a Queens Commendation.  PC Phillip
Harris, PC Ivor MacGregor QPM and PC Mick Ball (Princess Anne’s local rugby team) received

Commissioners high commendations rather than The Queens Gallantry Medal as DC Edmonds had. 
Jim Beaton retired at the rank of Chief Superintendent having received an additional award from the
US Secret Service and is still drawing his hard-earned pension.  He is a quiet, unassuming and modest
gentleman and has publicly stated that the preparation he received for that role was virtually nil, apart
from passing the standard four-day firearms course. As for post incident trauma counselling, there was
no such thing.  Jim Beaton took three bullets protecting Princess Anne who through it all acquitted
herself with calm confidence; the epitome of grace under pressure. Beaton earned his George Cross
and was lucky to survive.  In the years that followed, police firearms training changed dramatically.
Today, the initial course to train an Armed Response Vehicle officer takes eleven weeks; for close
protection officers, which includes defensive/offensive driving, it is even longer. Radio
communication has improved dramatically.  Advanced first aid training in trauma management is
standard and the kit to deal with it readily available. An attempt at such a crime today would have a
very different outcome.

Ron Russell well and truly earned his George Medal.  Believing he would never part with it, he
eventually fell on hard times and was forced to auction it a few years ago, but it fetched £50,000,
much to his amazement and delight.  During a TV interview after the auction, he recounted the
moment he saw PC Hills getting shot, telling the reporter, “I thought, you can’t do that, that’s a liberty,
I can’t have that, you’re not getting away with that one”, before wading into Ball. The interview
concluded with him saying how when the police arrived in strength after his heroic action he was,
“thrown in the back of a Triumph 2000 with something over me head, like a cloth”.  Those officers
were acting on minimal information with no idea who or where the bad guys were, except for the
injured PC Hills who was in full uniform, so anyone not shot and bleeding would be detained as a
precaution.  As for something thrown over Ron’s head, there was only one other mention of that
particular tactic. The arresting officers would continue their careers in the Met.  Phil Harris ended a
varied and successful career at the rank of Inspector.  PC Ivor MacGregor’s long and exemplary
service would be recognised with the award of The Queens Police Medal.  DC Peter Edmonds QGM
became a career detective and would once again be involved in the pursuit of a gunman intent on
carrying out an armed robbery on a post office. DC Edmonds and a colleague would be shot at during
that pursuit.  Undeterred, they got their man.  Edmonds would receive seven Commissioners
commendations during his service, two of them for ‘outstanding courage’, leaving no doubt that he
was a tough, courageous and forthright officer.  After twenty-seven years’ service he took his pension
retiring at the rank of detective sergeant.  He should have enjoyed a long and well-deserved
retirement, but he tragically passed away three years later aged fifty-six. To my knowledge he never
spoke publicly of The Mall incident.

To reach a coherent and credible conclusion, this story needs to be considered in the context of the
intense scrutiny and reforms that the Met CID was being subjected to at that time.  Their reputation
for professionalism and expertise was world-renowned.  In the era I joined, the CID was widely
perceived as a ‘force within the force’, a powerful brotherhood. It was well known that if you wanted
to be a detective you had to apply early, as they liked to get their future detectives on board whilst
young in service. I was told that if you had more than eight years service you’d struggle to be
accepted. Senior detective officers were not to be messed with. Even middle ranking detective
inspectors were powerful figures within their own command and could make or break a detective’s
career.  The police generally, and particularly the CID, was not a place for ‘shrinking violets’ and that
remains true to this day. The Commissioner at that time was Sir Robert Mark, a former army officer
and D-Day veteran whose police career started in Manchester where he served as a detective sergeant
and inspector but was fast-tracked through the ranks becoming the chief constable of Leicester in
1957.  Ten years later he was in the Met and was made Commissioner in 1972.  But all was not well. 

There had been some serious corruption cases involving some very senior detectives, several of whom
were tried, convicted and jailed.  Mark promised reforms and his new broom started sweeping through
the CID with a vengeance.  Several hundred detectives were sacked or required to resign.   Many
others amongst the vast majority of good detectives suffered badly in the process by being transferred
to uniform posts, so it wasn’t surprising that the Commissioner was referred to by some in the CID as
‘Black Mark’. In short, the CID hierarchy were feeling bruised, indignant and threatened, a feeling
that permeated the department.  With their reputation badly damaged, the news media falling over
itself to hang them out to dry at every opportunity and with what many felt was grossly unfair action
taken against them by a Commissioner they resented, a siege mentality had developed. 
With that as a backdrop, one could argue that when the chance for some much-needed restorative
kudos presented itself in The Mall, the opportunity to grab it and run may have been irresistible.  Was
a friendly arm placed around Peter Edmonds’ shoulder with a quiet voice in his ear suggesting a nice
win-win? He too was a very junior officer, respectfully deferential to the upper echelons of a
hierarchical system. If that was the case, then faced with such a dichotomy, and on the cusp of his
passage into the CID, the pressure on him to comply would have been immense.

Do I believe the official account of the arrest that has the lone detective chasing Ball, being threatened
with the gun then throwing his coat over the fugitive and bringing him to the ground, with no mention
of the other officers?  No, I do not. I believe it is fanciful.  The statements of the Delta 1 officers
contained not a trace of bravado; on the contrary they were typical of most doers of brave deeds;
matter of fact and dismissive of their courage, knowing that in the company of their comrades
boasting was no route to popularity. Discrepancies aside, that rugby team hit the ground running with
no thought for their own safety and Edmonds was very close by. However, something happened to the post-arrest narrative that set aside the Delta 1 crew’s statements and denied them their rightful
recognition of a QGM. The military call that ‘stolen valour’. But their initial feelings of hurt and
indignation soon passed; they simply took it in their stride and got on with the job, satisfied that those
who really mattered to them knew and understood.  I, for one, remain immensely proud of them. 

In researching these events I have taken great care to write empirically and personally, setting out
each scene so that the story evolves coherently.  I mention this, in conclusion, for two reasons; the
first being a reiteration that the final moments leading up to Ball’s arrest that I have described, was not
what appeared in the press in the hours and days that followed; that account has remained the official
version, to this day. The second reason is that a TV documentary about the event was broadcast on
Channel 4 on June 25 th , 2023. The documentary included two key witnesses; Princess Anne’s former
protection officer, James Beaton GC and Ron Russell GM. Curiously, and perhaps crucially, it didn’t
feature any of the officers from Delta 1. In the programme, Russell stated that the first time he saw
Peter Edmonds was at the ceremony where they were officially congratulated. He stated, When I saw
him, I went and stood alongside him and I said, ‘You’re here under false pretences, aren’t you?’ And
he just looked at me and he went, ‘If you’re ever in any trouble, you don’t talk to anyone until you talk
to me.’ I said, ‘Fair enough.’ But I’ve never been in trouble, so I’ve never needed it. What he meant
by that is, don’t tell anyone else what you’ve just said.”

Falklands and Gulf War veteran, Captain Chris Craig RN, summarised my feelings about this incident
perfectly in his book “Call For Fire”when, in praise of his gallant team in The Falklands and first
Gulf War, he wrote, ‘the gap between those aglitter with medals and those who ‘merely’ fought is
often much smaller than folklore would have us believe’.

Geoff Cadman.

Reproduced with permission.