Free The Wrong Man: The Shooting of Steven Waldorf and The Hunt for David Martin by Dick Kirby

operation and was stopping at every floor. Since they were supposed to be the only two occupants in the building, they were understandably concerned and waited until the lift descended to the ground floor, whereupon Martin stepped out, produced his ‘Demain’ security card and coolly informed them that he had been engaged to check their competence. During the following discussion, Martin castigated them for failing to discharge their duties properly since he had been in the premises for some time and had checked all the offices without once seeing them. The chastened guards humbly saw Martin off the premises and since he had been so calm and convincing, there was, of course, no question of the police being informed; however, to cover themselves, a note was made in the security office’s night-duty diary.
    The occupants of the two buildings – the company director and the two security guards – would, with hindsight, congratulate themselves on not being more assertive in confronting Martin and relieved that they were merely censured with words; later intelligence would reveal that since the burglary at the gunsmiths and whatever he was doing, Martin was permanently armed.
    When he was not busying himself breaking into premises and rebuking the occupants, Martin frequented gay bars and when he did so, one of the stolen pistols was inevitably in his handbag, with another tucked into his waistband. He was fiercely arrogant and keen to flaunt his sexuality at every possible opportunity. This was undoubtedly assisted by the growing strength of the gay movement during his enforced absence from society. In addition, gay clubs were rapidly opening up: Fangs, underneath a hotel in Paddington, was launched in 1975, as were one year later Bang in Charing Cross Road, Shane’s in West Hampstead, The Catacombs in Earls Court and Heaven, situated under the arches beneath Charing Cross station. Boy George and Culture Club had appeared on BBC television’s Top of the Pops and, for many, frequenting gay bars, cross-dressing and bisexuality was increasingly acceptable. In particular, Martin was a regular at The Embassy Club in Old Bond Street which had opened in April 1978. It was described thus:

    The door policy was strict but democratic; contemporary icons, freaks and beautiful people were invited in and those who did not fit into the scene were kept out. The mixed white, black, straight and gay crowd was a melange of glamorous drag queens, leather-clad gays and girls draped in gowns by Halston, Gucci and Fiorucci. Everyone took part in the disco tradition of dressing up to go dancing.

    It was said that ‘going to The Embassy was like being in a Hollywood movie with everyone wanting to be the star’; and that being the case, Martin must have felt as though he’d died and gone to heaven.
    He was also involved in the making of pornographic films; he broke into film processing companies and stole their cameras and video recording equipment. And this was how, for the second time, he came to make an illicit entry into Colour Film Services, 22–25 Portman Close, Baker Street, shortly before midnight on 5 August 1982.

On the Run
    O n this occasion, Martin was seen in the first-floor office by Ken Trebeck, a night supervisor who was making a routine call to the premises, who not unnaturally wanted to know what he was doing there. Martin replied that he was ‘security’ and that he was there by arrangement with a director of the company. Although Trebeck appeared to accept his explanation, he went to another office where he quietly telephoned the police. When they arrived, Martin was calmly sitting at the reception desk using the telephone and told the police officers that he was a security officer named David Demain and showed them his identification. He produced a bunch of keys, unlocked the door to the office, went straight to the light switches and the officers followed him inside. The supervisor who had discovered Martin on the