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Killer Serialisation


Chapter 2 - Serial 1

I hold no one responsible for the life I’ve led – except myself. No one forced me to become a criminal; no one persuaded me to become a thief; in fact, no one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. It was down to me. No one else took any decisions on my behalf. It’s easy to blame others for mistakes you’ve made in life, especially when you’ve been involved in crime your entire life.

So often, I’ve heard the same old story from many a villain who has led a life of crime: ‘I was led astray’... ‘Somebody showed me how to steal’... ‘I had a rotten childhood’. Well, I can honestly say that no one corrupted me and I had a pretty good childhood. From the very beginning of my life of crime, I knew perfectly well what I was doing, and more importantly, I knew exactly what I wanted.

I wasn’t born into a life of crime – far from it. Both my parents were as straight as they come. They were both honest, hardworking people.

I think from an early age I wanted the good things in life, like fine clothes, cars and holidays. I had no intention whatsoever of earning my living honestly. When I left school, I had no qualifications but I was offered the opportunity to learn a trade such as plumbing, bricklaying or joinery. In those days, you would serve your time from the age of sixteen until you were twenty-one. When you’re sixteen, twenty-one seems like a million years away. No, that life wasn’t for me.

I became a gang leader from the age of twelve, but I still maintained certain qualities and rules. When I hear of old ladies getting mugged for their pensions and the like, and drugs being peddled to schoolchildren, it makes me sick. Yet those sorts of scum entitle themselves ‘gangsters’. Well that title has different connotations these days. They are not the honourable respectful men of yesteryear. I know there is no comparison, especially when it comes to child-killers, rapists and all the other filthy beasts that go with them. No, I don’t compare myself to scum like that. There’s a certain line to be drawn; I was brought up with decency and good qualities by my parents, which I will always maintain.

Both my parents were Liverpool born and bred. My mother’s name was Jane Brown and my father’s name was Frederico Seiga. The name Seiga is of Italian origin and my Dad’s father – my grandfather – was a sailor. He arrived in England on one of his sea trips and met my grandmother who had been born and bred in Liverpool. I never knew my grandparents on my father’s side; they had passed away long before I was born. I do know they raised a family in Liverpool and lived in a house in Beaufort Street, which is to the south end of the city.

My Dad and his brothers were all born in Beaufort Street, and I believe in those days, in the early 1900s, it was a terrible, poverty-stricken area. The housing conditions were appalling; no running water in the houses, communal lavatories at the back of the terraces and the only available water was drawn from standpipes in the streets. It must have been unbearable to have lived in a place like that. It makes you wonder how people put up with those sorts of conditions.