I have no regrets bringing cannabis through liverpool's docks

I have no regrets bringing cannabis through liverpool's docks


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MICHAEL SHOWERS WAS ONE OF THE FIRST DRUG LORDS IN LIVERPOOL - APPROACHING HIS 80TH BIRTHDAY, HE HAS TOLD HIS STORY TO THE ECHO 04:00, 22 May 2025 A man who drove a Rolls-Royce around


Toxteth paid for by the profits of a huge cannabis importation scheme said he has no regrets and "it was just a job". Michael Showers was one of the first established drug lords in


Liverpool, recognising the immense profits that could be made by bringing illicit cargo through the city's docks. After retiring from the trade he became a community leader in Toxteth


during the riots, before working with Liverpool Council's immigration advice unit. But the second half of his life has been marred by long stretches in UK and European prisons following


two separate convictions for heroin trafficking - convictions that Mr Showers has repeatedly disputed. As he approaches his 80th birthday, Mr Showers has made the decision to release a book


to tell his story on his own terms. Ahead of the book's release, Mr Showers sat down with the ECHO to talk about growing up affected by racism in Liverpool, his involvement in the


drugs trade, what kept him going during his time in prison and what happened to his famous white Rolls-Royce. Sitting in the living room of his Allerton semi-detached house, wearing a


short-sleeved floral shirt and sporting a gold chain on his right wrist, Mr Showers recounts how he was raised predominantly by his mum while his sailor dad spent significant periods of time


away at sea. Racism was an ever-present part of his childhood, with him being on the receiving end of abuse from neighbours and strangers from as young as the age four. "It was just


diabolical," he told the ECHO. "We would have to go out as a gang to protect ourselves. We would go to Sefton Park and people would say, 'what are you doing here'?


"Even the police would question why we were where we here. We just got used to it. Our community was full of love. But there was also hate. Not from the people inside the ghetto, but


from outside it. The police used to say 'get back to your own area'." Mr Showers first came to the attention of the police when he was 15. He and a group of friends went to


visit friends in Norris Green. After attending a dance on a number of occasions, Mr Showers and his group of friends were confronted by a group of local men who told them "to not dance


with our women". Mr Showers told the ECHO following a confrontation, one of his friends stabbed a member of the other group and five of them were arrested. He was sent to Walton prison


and spent his 16th birthday there on remand. "When we went to trial, my mum couldn't afford a solicitor so they allocated me a dock brief," Mr Showers said. "This lawyer


came down the stairs to us and said 'look, you're all being very silly to plead not guilty'. I said 'I never stabbed anybody' and he replied 'look, the judge


knows you all can't have stabbed him but you've been in custody for three months, you could be home tonight with your families'. We all changed our pleas to guilty stupidly


and got sent to borstal. I came out two years later." He was released at 18 back into his community. "I came out and couldn't get a job," Mr Showers said. "One of my


friends went for a job as a milkman and was told 'look, let's have it right. How would you like your mother opening the door to someone like yourself every morning?'


"That was the way it was. I started grafting and that was that." Mr Showers began carrying out "snatches" from banks and robbing vans carrying money and cigarettes. This


again brought him into repeated contact with the law and he spent periods of the 1960s in-and-out of prison. But realising there was more money to be made than bank robberies, Mr Showers


broadened his horizons. "The police made no bones about following us around and sitting outside our houses," he said. "It got so bad I said 'I've had enough,


I'm going to go to Nigeria for a bit to get away from it all'. "When I was out there I bumped into this guy and he said 'listen, you from Liverpool?'. I told him I


was and he said 'my ship is going to Liverpool and I'm taking some weed. Do you know anybody who wants to buy it? I said no problem and made a few phone calls. People met him,


bought the weed, but I thought why be the third man when I could do it myself. I started shipping it." Over the next six years Mr Showers, a lover of chess and classical music, and his


gang bought huge shipments of cannabis into Merseyside through the docks. He told the ECHO: "I didn't want to go back to prison, so I just got more organised. We had a good firm,


they were very loyal and we did some good work. "We had strict jobs. We had people who worked at the docks. We had people whose families were quite high up so they knew if customs were


onto something. We had the dealers and I was the overseas man. We compressed the weed into a tin. The first one was 500lbs in weight and it got through, no problem. That was that. We sold it


for £300 a lb." After that the gang were importing a tonne of cannabis at a time, with profits reaching around £700,000 a shipment. The money was immense - and Mr Showers liked to


spend it. It became common to see the cannabis drug lord driving around Toxteth in his white Rolls-Royce, always dressed immaculately in a sharp suit. Was the obvious display of wealth a


message to the police? No, Mr Showers said, "it was just the norm - I liked to dress nice and have a nice car, that was that." And in 1973, after a number of years in the drug


trade, Mr Showers claimed he called it quits. "I had enough money and I didn't want to travel anymore," he said. "I was away from home for three or four months at a


time." He claimed after leaving the drug business he decided to put his efforts back into his community. Did he have regrets about his involvement? "No, not in the slightest,"


he smiled. "It was a job to me. That was it. A well-paid job." What about the impact the drugs could have on his community? "We had no turf wars, there were no guns. We had


rules and there were no issues in the community," he responded. And as for the car? That was stolen one day and later found burnt out in the city centre. Mr Showers said throughout the


1970s - at a time Liverpool was experiencing significant economic decline and widespread unemployment - he became interested in the politics of the city. He said he tried to use his


influence as much as possible and took a council-funded position on the immigration unit with a client list of 300 people. But racial tensions continued and came to a head in 1981 following


the heavy-handed arrest of young man Leroy Cooper near Granby Street. The arrest marked the final straw that broke the camel's back and the uprising - widely described as the


"Toxteth riots" - began. "I was so happy when it happened because the unity of the people of Liverpool 8 during that time was something that had to be seen to be


believed," Mr Showers said. "After all the times I had been struck by the police or had stuff taken from me it felt justified. It progressed from that point. I joined the Toxteth


Defence Committee and we had all the marches and everything else. We had a debate at Cambridge. It was a period of really hard work, but I enjoyed it." With high unemployment came the


scourge of drug addiction and the influx of cheap, brown heroin that swept across Liverpool earned the city the reputation of "smack city". British police launched an elaborate


sting codenamed Operation Rain Man. The collaborative probe by Merseyside Police, customs officers and their Asian counterparts involved the controlled delivery of just under 12kg of


high-quality heroin from Pakistan. A Pakistani man, named Haji, went to the High Commission in the country, saying he had been approached by a supplier to take drugs to the UK by a man


called Michael. A man, Mohammed Zubair, later collected 2kg of the heroin but was arrested as he left Haji's hotel room near Manchester Airport. Mr Showers has repeatedly maintained he


had no involvement in the plot and he was only tied to the plot because Zubair approached the immigration unit to help arrange his wife's entry clearance. "I worked at the


immigration unit and that was that," he said. "The whole focus then went off him and onto me." Mr Showers was sentenced to 20 years in prison in 1990 for his involvement in


the drug plot. He has always claimed he was set up. He was sent to a maximum security HMP Full Sutton but noticed a major change to his previous experiences in prison. "The balance was


more in favour of the inmates," he said. "It wasn't too bad at all." But tragedy struck in his personal life following the death of his mum and later his son, Aaron, who


died after drinking a bottle of Jamaican rum which had been laced by a drug smuggler with cocaine. Mr Showers was temporarily allowed out of prison to go to hospital when his son's life


support machine was switched off. When he was released from prison in 2000 he wasn't allowed to return to Liverpool. He temporarily moved to London where he met his now wife Sharon,


who had been a family friend for a number of years. He told the ECHO the pair married and moved back to Liverpool the year after, where he worked in a Sainsbury's warehouse. But Mr


Showers was back before the courts in 2010, this time in Turkey, after he was arrested and charged on suspicion of attempting to supply heroin - allegedly as part of an international crime


syndicate. He again denied his involvement, claiming he was visiting a friend's house and was not aware he was "grafting on the brown". "When I was put in prison I


wasn't worried," he said. "But then I heard stories about how their trials go. The judge said to me 'why do the English police say this about you?' and I replied


'because the English police don't like me." Mr Showers was sentenced to 10 years in prison. "A Turkish prison had to be seen to be believed," he said. "There


were no officers on the wing. You had to pay for everything. You pay for electricity, you pay for food. Those who don't have money have nothing. It was hell." He was eventually


released from prison and returned back to resettle in Liverpool with the support of his wife and son Khalil - a classics graduate. "I see a lot of myself in my son," Mr Showers


said. "I'm glad society is a thousand times better than it was when I was growing up. There is still racism but you can survive it. He doesn't have to be as racially aware as


I am because his youth is a lot different to mine." Mr Showers, who has never challenged his convictions at the High Court, still returns back to his old community and walks the streets


of Granby. But it's unrecognisable to what he once knew, he said, and there are "no groups that represent the community anymore". While the community has changed, Mr


Showers' place in Toxteth's story will continue for years to come. Robber, cannabis smuggler, community leader, activist, convicted but rebuffed heroin kingpin, husband, dad - he


holds a catalogue of titles. But finally, after nearly 80 years, he believes it is right to tell his story on his own terms. YOU CAN PRE-ORDER MICHAEL SHOWERS' BIOGRAPHY 'MEMBERS


ONLY', WRITTEN BY JAMIE BOYLE, ON THE WARCRY PRESS WEBSITE HERE. Article continues below