TODAY, WE ARE DELIGHTED TO WELCOME OUR GUEST AUTHOR,NIGEL COWLEY, WHO IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM HIS NOVEL, 'LIVING WITH A TERRORIST' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
Side by Side with Terrorism
Fast forward to 2 December 2003. The day began much like any other for the TSG; I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever lay ahead. The morning kicked off with the customary briefing, everyone taking a moment to introduce themselves so we all knew exactly who was on the team that day. It was then that we received our instructions: we were to conduct a raid on a property in Tooting, South London.
I listened intently as the details were laid out, paying close attention to the address and the intelligence briefing we’d been given about the operation’s subject. We were told that the primary target would be present at the premises. His name was Babar Ahmed, though we learned he operated under several aliases. The seriousness of the situation became immediately apparent; Ahmed was suspected of involvement in terrorist activities and fundraising operations with links to Al-Qaeda.
We were also briefed that Ahmad had undergone specialist training overseas at an Al-Qaeda camp, equipping him with advanced skills in both armed and unarmed combat. The intelligence likened him to the individual responsible for the death of DC Oake in Manchester, a reminder of how critical it was not to underestimate our target. In DC Oake's case, officers had been caught off guard, unaware that the assailant possessed such formidable training. Determined not to repeat the same error, we were instructed to maintain the highest standards of officer safety at all times.
Ahmed was a battle-hardened fighter, identifiable by a distinctive scar sustained during conflict, and, crucially, he was considered exceptionally dangerous, an educated, highly trained adversary with the potential to cause serious harm. There could be no room for complacency or compromise.
It was believed that Ahmad was involved in several aspects of terrorism from fund raising to being a major recruiter in relation to terrorist acts. He was, without doubt, someone to be feared. Was I scared? I would be stupid not to be but, when I look back, I didn’t have time to be scared, I trusted my team and my superiors. What I didn’t expect to become was the arresting officer. Why! I’m not sure but perhaps it was because I was always keen and would always be eager to be at the front, doing the job I was trained to do. That fateful day proved to be no exception.
The intelligence indicated that Ahmad played a significant role in terrorism, from raising funds to acting as a key recruiter for attacks. There was no doubt he was a formidable and dangerous individual, someone to be genuinely wary of. Was I frightened? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t only a fool would claim otherwise. But, in truth, there was barely any time for fear to take hold.
My trust in my team and our leadership was unwavering. What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was that I would be the one to make the arrest. Why me? I’m still not entirely sure. Perhaps it was down to my eagerness, my tendency to volunteer for the front line, always wanting to be in the thick of the action, doing what I’d been trained to do. That day was no different, and it turned out to be a moment that would
stay with me forever.
As the number one team, it fell to us to be the first through the door. My buddy and I, though not the largest members of the squad, had a reputation for being the most enthusiastic and energetic, which may well have influenced the supervisor’s decision to put us at the forefront of the arrest. What truly caught me off guard, however, was the fact that, despite the high level of danger associated with this operation, it was not deemed an armed entry. The suspect in Manchester had resorted to lethal force, yet here we were, tasked with confronting an adversary of similar capability, expected to breach and secure the premises without firearms.
On the day of the operation, our team comprised about fifteen members, twelve police constables and two sergeants. Yet, when it came to physically apprehending Ahmad and escorting him to the station, only four of us were directly involved. This is the absolute minimum number of officers you would expect to deploy when dealing with a suspect not only suspected of violence, but also highly trained, someone perfectly capable of overpowering a less experienced or ill-prepared officer.
What raised eyebrows was the decision to have the ‘Method of Entry team’, colloquially dubbed the Ghost Busters, handle the break-in. These individuals, though civilians, were specially trained to gain access to even the most secure premises, effectively, they possessed skills akin to professional burglars but these were legal. Their involvement signalled that entry might prove particularly challenging. Ordinarily, our own team would have breached the door ourselves, so relying on the Ghost Busters was both unusual and, given the risks, a little unsettling.
Having the Ghost Busters on hand genuinely streamlines rapid entries, making the process swifter, quieter, and far less physically demanding. Their expertise allows our team to focus immediately on the primary objectives, rather than expending energy and time on forced entry. While we are trained to break down doors ourselves, the task can sometimes come across as clumsy or even unprofessional, with the occasional risk of mistakenly breaching the wrong address.
We were all acutely aware of the vital procedures required for an operation of this nature. Every possible exit had to be secured, and each room methodically swept and cleared of any potential threats. Only then could the specialist search officers from the investigation team enter, confident that the environment was secure. Their role was to identify and collect specific evidence, but our responsibility was to ensure there were no hidden dangers that might jeopardise their safety.
At the moment of entry, we could never be certain who might be inside the property. Many of the locations we entered were multi-cultural households, and it was not unusual to encounter large extended families. I recall one particular operation in Camden, where we raided a townhouse and were immediately greeted by the distinct smell of burning. As I stepped into the lounge, I found a sizeable group, at least fifteen people, spanning generations from grandparents to young children, gathered around a fire in the centre of the room. They had prised up the floorboards and were burning them, seemingly out of sheer necessity to keep warm. On the surface, it appeared to be a case of a family forced into desperate measures, but appearances can be misleading.
The truth soon became apparent: this family were deeply involved in criminal activity, ranging from robbery and knife offences to handling stolen goods and dealing drugs. Policing teaches you quickly never to judge a situation solely by what you see. If you do, there’s every chance you’ll end up getting burned, sometimes quite literally.
What we were facing now was quite different. It is what we deem a late turn shift. Meaning that we had been working on an ordinary, late night shift the day before when we were told we had to be back at base and ready to go to a briefing at Scotland Yard for a confidential operation.
The atmosphere was charged with an overwhelming sense of urgency. Although we were still at New Scotland Yard, we needed to reach Tooting before our suspect awoke for morning prayers. I couldn’t begin to understand how they possessed such precise information at the time, but further down the line, the significance of this detail would become more important to me than I could ever realise.
We arrived at the property under cover of darkness, it was eerily quiet and we knew Ahmed would likely be in bed asleep. We stopped short of the address, checked our equipment, shields, medical bags and formed up in running order. That’s when the adrenaline starts to take over. We know we have to be quick and cover all exits in readiness for multi entries if needed, and also to stop any form of escape. All of this is done as quietly as possible to avoid waking any nosey neighbours.
It would be untrue to claim I wasn’t feeling a surge of excitement. After all, how many people my age, just twenty-five were entrusted with the arrest of a high-ranking terrorist? Yet that exhilaration evaporates the moment I stand before the door. Instantly, my mind shifts into full operational focus, determined to carry out my duties swiftly and seamlessly, letting professionalism override any lingering nerves.
At roughly 05:30, the entry team breached the door, slipping silently into the pitch-black premises. I made my way directly up the stairs, flanked by fellow officers from the TSG 1.1 unit. Preserving the element of surprise was crucial, and, based on previous encounters, I was certain Ahmad would still be fast asleep. As I reached the landing and glanced back, I spotted movement in a nearby room, a figure shifting from side to side, arms raised. Leading the way was a formidable colleague whose imposing 6’5” frame would have been an intimidating sight for anyone, let alone someone abruptly roused from sleep.
He yelled, ‘POLICE, STAY STILL!’ as we entered the bedroom and confronted a man, around 5'11";, with a neatly trimmed beard and short black hair. He refused to comply, shifting from side to side, crouched slightly with one foot ahead of the other. For a fleeting moment, I thought he might surrender, but it quickly became obvious, as I watched him scan the room, that he was searching for something, perhaps a
weapon. I joined in, shouting, ‘STAND STILL, POLICE!’ hoping to assert control.
By now, the other occupant, a woman, was shrieking and wailing. I presumed they were Ahmad and his wife, but until we confirmed his identity, certainty eluded us. What was clear, however, was that Ahmad had no intention of giving up peacefully; we were facing a determined opponent. We kept issuing commands, but he steadfastly ignored everyone.
My colleague had no choice but to try and take hold of Ahmad who immediately threw himself backwards towards the window. It was then that all hell broke loose. The more we tried to get hold of his arms and put him in handcuffs, the more he struggled and fought, lashing out at him with his fists. Fearing for the safety of my buddy, I grabbed hold of the man who was struggling violently. Eventually, we both crashed down to the floor.
There was no question, Ahmad possessed remarkable strength, continually forcing my colleague and me off until, at last, we managed to secure his wrists in handcuffs. By then, he was lying face down on the floor, and we were doing our utmost to de-escalate the chaos. ‘CALM DOWN, STOP STRUGGLING,’ I shouted, striving to keep control of his upper body as he persisted in pushing upwards, at one point lifting both my colleague and me off the ground.
At that moment, one of the officers drew my attention to a black and red samurai sword lying at the foot of the bed, its blade glinting menacingly in the half-light. The weapon, measuring roughly two feet in length, had been well within Ahmad’s reach throughout the struggle. A wave of relief washed over me as I realised how close we had come to disaster, had he managed to seize the sword, the entire situation could have taken a far more dangerous turn.
The ordeal, although it lasted scarcely ten minutes, felt longer amidst the turmoil. Once Ahmad was finally subdued and the situation under control, I formally informed him of his arrest for the commission, perpetration, and instigation of terrorist offences under Section 41 of the Terrorism Act 2000. The time was roughly 05:40. After issuing the standard caution, he sneered, ‘So, this is the war on terrorism, is it?’
Meanwhile, his wife had been removed from the room and also placed in handcuffs to prevent harm to all concerned. We then escorted Ahmad downstairs to a well-lit, sterile area, where we conducted a thorough search for any concealed weapons. Thankfully, nothing else was found on him.
Getting him into the van was no mean feat, he started to scream and moan, bashing his head and back against the seats and brackets, while thrashing violently. There was no other option but to restrain him on the floor to calm him down and stop him from injuring himself.
It did little to stop him, he continued to struggle and shout throughout the journey to Charing Cross Police Station.
There was a deep sense of relief among everyone involved when we finally arrived at the station. As I booked Ahmad in, I relayed the circumstances of the arrest to the Custody Sergeant, who duly authorised his detention. Seeing the bruises and swelling on his face, it struck me how far someone might go in sheer desperation when they realise they have been caught. The extent of his self-inflicted injuries was a stark reminder to me of the psychological toll and desperation that can grip someone confronted with the consequences of their actions. It was one arrest that I was more than pleased was over. Or so I thought.
The de-brief that followed unfolded in much the same way as countless others before it. We gathered in the canteen to complete our notes, the adrenaline slowly waning away as we discussed the operation. The entry had been executed efficiently, leading to the safe detention of Ahmad and his wife. Our conversation moved to the presence of the Ghost Busters team, a detail that set this job apart from the norm, adding a peculiar twist to an otherwise routine process. Still, the procedures remained unchanged. Two officers had been assigned to drive us back to the station. And, with that, the operation ended as far as I was concerned. It was just another chapter in the never-ending roll of policing.
The de-briefing was brief, as we were all well aware that Ahmad would now be transferred into the custody of the Anti-Terrorist department, who would take charge of the investigation from this point forward. Our role in the operation was complete, and we could feel a sense of achievement in the fact that we had carried out our duties efficiently and effectively. I did wonder though what he had been up to and planned for the UK where Al-Qaida were concerned and just how important he was to them.
With Christmas around the corner, I was I was looking forward to spending time with family and friends, enjoying the simple pleasures of a normal life. Unbeknownst to me, however, during Ahmad’s seven-day detention at Charing Cross, he had sneakily arranged for his own doctor to visit and examine him, a clear breach of protocol. Only a forensic medical expert, someone with authority above that of a regular GP, is permitted in such cases. At the time, I remained blissfully unaware of this development, instead feeling a genuine sense of accomplishment in having arrested a terrorist and making the streets that bit safer. Not many people get to say that. Christmas arrived, and I went back to my parents’ home. We enjoyed all the familiar rituals that families cherish, sharing stories, catching up on each other’s lives, and simply enjoying one another’s company. My parents spoke warmly of how proud they were of what I’d achieved which gave me an element of warmth. Who doesn’t want their parents to be proud of them? It was a time of peace and relaxation. I met up with a few friends, smiled to realise nothing much had changed much since I left to go the training college. It was like time had stood still in the little village I had spent my childhood in. Looking back, everything had changed or was about to. I had no inkling at all that this would be the last Christmas I’d experience such a feeling of contentment and peace of mind.
Unbeknownst to me, I was on the verge of stumbling into a minefield, completely unprepared and unprotected. When 13th January 2004 arrived, that mine would detonate with devastating impact.
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BLURB:
Living with Terrorists delivers a stark and uncompromising insight into the devastating consequences of a false accusation, exploring how truth can be obscured when those entrusted with justice choose silence. This compelling account exposes the harrowing reality faced when institutions fail to protect those most in need.
Wrongly accused by a known terrorist and abandoned by his own organisation, Nigel Cowley was thrust into a relentless seven-year ordeal of investigations, doubt, and personal turmoil. Although ultimately vindicated, the damage was already done, his career destroyed and his life changed forever, haunted by fear and the profound impact of trauma.
Now living beneath the shadow of mental illness, Cowley’s journey is not about questions of guilt or innocence. It is a story that speaks candidly about the heavy cost of wrongful accusation, the prolonged stress of constant uncertainty. It explores the long road to justice, highlighting how the truth can remain hidden for years, and the endurance needed to finally reclaim it.
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Author Bio
Nigel Cowley is a former British police officer whose career was devastated after being falsely accused by a known terrorist and subsequently abandoned by the very system he served. Following a seven-year ordeal of investigations, uncertainty, and personal trauma, he was ultimately vindicated, though the impact on his life proved lasting. Drawing on his lived experience, Cowley writes with honesty and authority about institutional failure, wrongful accusation, mental health, and the enduring pursuit of truth and justice. His memoir, Living with Terrorists, offers a powerful and deeply personal account of resilience in the face of overwhelming adversity.
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COMING SOON: On Monday, 19th October, our team member, author Richard 'Doc' Correa, is sharing his short Hallowe'en story, 'The Spider'.
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