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The following is a further excerpt from The Dark Side. It’s Christmas morning in the late 1970s. My sister and me are waiting for dad, who is on duty in the local area, to call home so we can open our presents:

“The smell of freshly made toast and the sight of steam billowing from cups of tea was a sufficient distraction from the temptation of the presents and we both sat in the kitchen for the next 20 minutes talking about what we thought we had. I hoped that I had a model of The Incredible Hulk as I had been infatuated by the Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno series for the past three or four years. Time would tell. We talked excitedly as Mum spoke with Dad who had called to say that he was almost home. The wait had proved an almost impossible challenge, but the eager anticipation of what the next hour or so had in store eradicated any remaining exasperation. Our house was situated at the top of a cul de sac and as I walked back into the living room, I noticed an enormous white car at the bottom of the street driving towards us. The huge headlights and protruding front bumper were dominating features. My attention was quickly diverted to the word “eciloP” written in large letters at the end of the bonnet. It took me a while to work out that it was the word “Police” written backwards and even longer to work out why. I was amazed by the mass of blue lamps strewn across the roof. There was a metal box between them with slats that made it look like it was designed to emit sound. It had numerous long aerials sticking out of it. A wide yellow line extended down the full length of the car. The only break came on the front door where the West Yorkshire Police logo was displayed. I remember thinking it looked like the shape of a star with the Queen’s Crown on top. As the car drew closer I saw that my dad was driving it. I couldn’t absorb what I was seeing. A bright yellow jacket partially covered his police uniform which he was carrying immaculately. His face looked serious until he caught my eye as he pulled onto the drive. Then it turned into a warm smile. That was the dad I knew. I was rapt by everything in front of me and my untidy pile of presents became a distant memory. Dad started to talk into a microphone suspended from the top of the windscreen. What was he saying? I was engrossed. I grabbed my slippers and before Mum could grab me, I was outside in the freezing cold weather in just my Hulk pyjamas. By the time I got to the car, he was already out and walking towards the back door. ‘Show me inside. Show me inside,’ I demanded with a puerile disregard for everything around me.

          ‘I can’t stay long. I’ve come to watch you open your presents.’

          ‘Yeah yeah, but can I just have a look inside first please?’ I noticed an intermittent beeping noise coming from a square radio held in his left breast pocket. A lot was being said, but I couldn’t tell what.

          ‘Quickly then, lad. But then we’re going inside to see your mum and sister,’ he said with authority to match his appearance.

He opened the driver’s door and nodded as if to give me implied permission to get in. I clambered in enthusiastically, losing a slipper as I did. I didn’t care. I was in awe of the sizeable collection of buttons and gadgets around me. I instinctively tried to press one. It was lit up in blue and had the words rear lamps written on it. Dad’s hand was upon mine in a nanosecond to stop me. Another button displayed a symbol of a horn. I knew what this would mean for the neighbours if I pressed it. I moved around in the seat to make myself comfortable grabbing the steering wheel as if I were the driver. The pedals and gear stick meant nothing, but I closed my eyes and imagined being Dad driving around in this mind boggling spectacle of a vehicle. Then the beeps started again: this time from a radio box mounted underneath the glove compartment in the passenger footwell. There was a receiver hanging from the side. It looked just like the one on our house phone.  Dad picked it up and said something in response to the controller’s words. I couldn’t tell what he said because I was so in wonderment of the whole situation and because he spoke in a code that I assumed only police officers would understand. It became apparent that this particular piece of dialogue was to signify the end of his very brief visit to his family on Christmas Day as he tapped on the window and told Mum he had to go. He gave me a cuddle and told me that he’d see Helen and I later that afternoon. With intrigue flowing through my veins, he drove off to whatever it was he had to do leaving me with an overwhelming fascination for what, in the space of five minutes, had become my dream job.”)

Having studied A-Level French at Batley Grammar School, Michael did some voluntary work at a youth hostel in Poissy before embarking on a degree in French and linguistics at Nottingham Trent University. In December 1992, at the end of the first term there, he received confirmation that his application to join West Yorkshire Police had been successful and on 29 March 1993, at the age of 19, he began his career as a police officer.

Following a 15-week residential training course, Michael began his first posting at Dewsbury Division. He was stationed at Cleckheaton Police Station where some of the incidents he dealt with, including attending his first hanging, are detailed in the book (Chapter 3 – Rich Man Hanging).

After a successful two and a half-year period and a number of commendations for his good police work, Michael transferred to the busy Leeds City Centre division at Millgarth Police Station. In early 1997 he arrested the then Leeds United and England midfielder Carlton Palmer for indecent assault and disorderly conduct. He was convicted of both (Chapter 7 – Football Crazy).

Just before midnight on Sunday 24 August 1997, Michael was despatched to an ongoing violent incident at Harold Terrace, Burley area of Leeds. He was badly injured about the head and face in an unprovoked and sustained attack. His assailant was convicted and Michael received compensation for his injuries which kept him off work for several weeks.

The incident also resulted in Michael’s summons to court charged with assaulting his assailant for the force he had used to defend himself. Despite his assailant being uninjured, Michael was charged with Section 47 assault occasioning actual bodily harm because the time limit of six months for the less serious offence of common assault had elapsed.

In August 1999, Michael was acquitted of assault occasioning harm at Leeds Crown Court, but was convicted of common assault having been charged half way through his trial (23 months after the incident) when the case against him had collapsed.

On 8 September 1999, the day after his 26^th Birthday, Michael was given a four-month prison sentence. The book follows his journey as he tries to survive one of the most hostile environments a serving police officer could face. The book is factual and graphic as Michael is kept in solitary confinement in a category B prison and it describes the dangers faced in the less secure prison, HMP Ford, West Sussex where he was subjected to physical and verbal abuse.

On 11 October 1999, Michael was released from prison. He was held on a home detention curfew (electronically tagged) for a further month. In November that year he embarked on a training course in sports therapy which he completed in February 2000. During this time Michael attended at his disciplinary hearing where he was dismissed from West Yorkshire Police resulting from the events from over two years earlier.

Michael now runs a successful sports injury clinic and is in the final stages of writing his second book, The Dark Side, which gives a detailed insight into the investigation, the evidence and the judicial process that led to Michael’s wrongful conviction and explains the reasons why he has repeatedly been prevented from taking his case to the Court of Appeal.

Michael’s 20-year fight for justice continues.