out by his criminal record, he had never been involved in violent crime or armed robbery and instead made all his money from tobacco-smuggling. While he admitted trying to steal the diamonds, he knew there was no possibility of anyone getting hurt because the Dome was practically empty that morning.
‘How could you possibly know that?’ asked the lead prosecutor.
Betson cleared this throat and faced the jury. ‘Because we had a man on the inside. A policeman called Michael Wearing, my brother-in-law.’
Betson explained that Officer Wearing had been one of a small team assigned to patrol the exterior of the Dome during the first half of 2000. While working there he had struck up a friendship with a man named Tony who worked security at the building. Between them, they had hatched the plan for the raid and taken the proposal to Betson.
Wearing was hastily brought before the court. He had served with the Metropolitan Police for more than twenty years and had an unblemished record. He had married the sister of Betson’s wife in 1991 and become godfather to Betson’s son. But if Betson had hoped family loyalty might save him, he was very much mistaken. Wearing’s most painful moment in the witness box came when he admitted that back in 1998, two years before the attack on the Dome, he had made a confidential report to his senior officers suggesting that his brother-in-law had been responsible for several robberies. Betson swore under his breath as the revelation emerged.
The arguments raged on with the defence claiming this was just a clever ploy on Wearing’s part to cover himself. Cockram and Ciarrocci took their turns in the witness box and supported Betson’s account. Not only had the mysterious Tony suggested the raid, he had also funded it. Cockram and the others were on ‘wages’ of £100,000 to do the job. ‘I thought the diamonds were only worth a couple of million,’ he said. ‘I was shocked when it turned out they were worth a lot more.’
Only Robert Adams refused to go into the witness box, anxious that his previous criminal history should not come to light. During the early 1980s he had been jailed for six years for attempting to kill his wife.
The allegations against Wearing soon collapsed. The officer had never made any secret of his relationship with Betson to his superiors on the force, and the Flying Squad had been aware of the connection all along. The idea that Wearing had provided any help or assistance for any element of the robbery was dismissed as utterly false.
In the end it was the weakest link, Kevin Meredith, who condemned them. As experienced, hardened criminals, every other member of the gang had said nothing during arrest and interview. Meredith, however, had started talking within minutes of being handcuffed on the boat and only stopped when he was joined by an attorney and advised that he might be better saying nothing.
But it was too late. The court heard Meredith on tape saying he had been threatened by Cockram and had only agreed to take part in the raid because he was in fear of his life. Most crucially Cockram had told him: ‘Don’t worry, we won’t have shooters or anything. But we’ll have ammonia, and if anyone comes up to us, that will put them straight down on the floor.’
It was enough to convince the jury that the gang would have had no hesitation in using violence and, apart from Meredith, they were all convicted of the more serious offence. Betson and Cockram received eighteen years, Ciarrocci and Adams got fifteen each while Meredith came away with five.
Their arrest and capture might have been a complete surprise but on their way to prison, the gang were finally let in on the biggest secret of all. As soon as De Beers heard there was a threat to the diamonds they had replaced them with crystal fakes. Even if the raid had gone according to plan, they would not have got their hands on the real gems.
Like so many of the hugely ambitious ‘project’