I might have become a cause celebre like Tony Martin, but luckily no one died

Tony Martin, who shot two intruders at his farmhouse, is out of jail following his conviction for manslaughter. One was shot while on his knees begging for his life; the other received a blast from a pump-action shotgun as he was making a desperate exit through a window.

Martin was originally found guilty of murder, but the appeal court reduced the conviction to manslaughter. It all brought back a very dark moment in my own life around 30 years ago.

I had set up shop in Brixton with Mrs Howe. I ran the offices of a journal, Race Today, about 60 yards from my temporary home. The streets of Brixton heaved with Fagin's children and a gang of youths burgled my home repeatedly. I made report after report to Brixton police station, but no officer ever responded. Word reached me that the Brixton police thought Darcus Howe was a leading campaigner against police malpractice and did not qualify for protection.

Then came that fateful day. They had broken in once more, stealing my late grandmother's engagement ring, a stereo set and money. They were so confident by then that a girlfriend of one of them paraded around with the ring on her finger.

I identified the group to the police. Two days passed and no one came. I went with Mrs Howe and my secretary to the address of the thieves and demanded my property. All hell broke loose. Young Michael rushed me with a six-inch blade. I got hold of his hand and jammed the knife on to his throat. A wound opened. The police appeared in full force, locked me up and charged me with wounding with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

My lawyer was able to bring to the jury's attention the fact that the three witnesses had amassed 54 convictions between them. The wounded soldier identified the knife as his own but testified that I had disarmed him and cut his throat. The police denied that I had ever reported a single burglary to them.

Just after the defence began to put its case, the judge stopped the proceedings and invited the jury to attempt a verdict. They sat where they were, whispered to each other for a minute and a half, and I was found not guilty.

I was left at the mercy of the gang. No police protection. But Fagin's children had become convinced I was not easy meat. They faded away to pursue their careers elsewhere. I did not become a cause celebre. I did not take a life needlessly.

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