Tag Archives: Fulham Broadway Center

My Mother’s Death And Possible Criminality By Hammersmith & Fulham Police

Its now been over 2 years since my mother died in agony of cancer at Chelsea and Westminister hospital. It’s been too painful to really ruminate on any connection between it and the 16 year long psychological torture inflicted upon myself by the Met Police. It was a devastating event for me, including the months leading up to it, which I had to cope with in the context of what the police continued to do to me, with no respite or humanity. Now it’s time to reflect on it here, while certain important and disturbing elements are still fresh in my memory.

(*update September 2024 – My brother was recently told his own cancer is terminal and has weeks or months to live. Obviously I am now concerned that the police may repeat their criminality. My brother is hoping to be moved to a rural hospice. For example, will the police psychopaths point me out to the local pub where myself and my brother hope to have some last time together? I also likely have the same genetic disease (currently being tested for it), which would mean I would like develop cancers myself soon and die within the next decade. In which case it’s more urgent than ever that legal proceedings against the police can be begun as soon as possible).

The first thing to be said is that the torture by the police really did impact my ability to enjoy and cherish my last years and months with my mother. Throughout this, she was the one person that gave me a reason to keep going and survive it. She was also completely oblivious to what I was going through, and entirely innocent of anything that the police could remotely have justification for in their vendetta against myself. I never once mentioned any of this to her in these 16 years. She did, however, obviously know that my life had been impacted by paranoid schizophrenia.

Reading back my posts such as /owain-richards-boots-fulham-broadway-waitrose-tss-security-a-rough-day-in-london/, from September 2021, when she was only months away from death, is utterly painful for me beyond words. I remember that day, coming back to her flat in an agitated state, and God bless her, she noticed but didn’t know why. And these were the last days I had with her before she became very ill again and had go into hospital to slowly die in agony from cancer of the oesophagus.

The second thing to say is that it did impact also my ability to care for my mother in those last months and years. A brother of mine was her primary carer, and she had NHS carers visiting her every day. She first contracted cancer in 2020, but after a course of chemotherapy she was given the all-clear. Her normal weight returned and she was back to being independent and active, despite being almost 90. My ability to visit her in both 2020 while she had cancer, and in 2021 was limited by the pandemic and lockdowns. In 2021, she developed a raspy voice and then her cancerous symtoms of feeling sick and not wanting to eat returned. She was not given any scans during this time. I bitterly regret not paying for a private MRI scan. I don’t think she could have coped with more chemo, but I still wonder how I couldn’t even consider that idea. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so stressed with what the police were doing to me, then I would have been able to. As I described in that post from September 2021, and will again below, the police most certainly did affect my ability to provide the proper care for my mother, by continuing point me out to security guards and staff at pharmacies in Fulham.

My mother developed her raspy voice shortly after being mistakenly being given TWO influenza jabs as well as an covid booster jab in TWO DAYs in a pharmacy in Fulham North End Road. She had had her influenza jab the day before, and visited this pharmacy to have her covid booster. She told me afterwards, and her elderly best friend who went with her confirmed this, that the pharmacist was VERY STRANGE AND RUDE with her immediately. She was given a jab without any consent form or information, and then her and her friend asked whether they had been given the Pfilzer or the Moderna booster. The pharmacist then told them that no, it had been an influenza jab. As I said, she had already had her influenza jab the day before. Nethertheless, the pharmacist then gave them both the Covid booster jab.

The day after that, my mother developed a very raspy voice, that over the course of the next few months was given various antibiotics and such for, to no avail.

Now bear in mind that, as I have described here over the years, Hammersmith and Fulham police had pointed me out to shops along the North End Road, as well as pharmacies, including Boots, with instructions to not only security guards, but staff to bully me, and to directly take part in the psychological torture of myself. All the while, of course, not allowing me to know whether they had done this, or I was just insane.

As I have described, in the Boots in the Fulham Broadway shopping center, where myself and my brother would collect my mother’s prescriptions for her medication when she had her first bout of cancer, the security guard would follow me around the store with arms folded, then smirk and walk away the moment I had left. Even the staff there clearly recognize me, and serve me very oddly, the same way I get served in other Boots stores, including Eastbourne and such. It would also mysteriously take days for prescriptions to arrive. Because of this, myself and my brother changed the pharmacy for her repeat prescriptions to the Superdrug in the North End Road. There too, I was served in a bizzarre manner by the pharmacists, who appeared to recognize me.

Now is it possible that the police informed the pharmacy where my mother had those two jabs that day, that she was visiting and that she was my mother, encouraging, inciting, or otherwise causing them to act rudely, and even to intentionally give her the wrong jab?

Throughout these 16 years, it’s been my duty to subject all these thoughts and beliefs to scrutiny and reflection. Even when I fell onto the tracks of a metro platform and became trapped betwen the platform and carriage, after being apparentely followed in a European city, and only saved by a passanger seconds from having my legs ripped off by the departing train, I’m reluctant to associate it with any wrongdoing by the police. But to be frank, there are clearly no limits as to what these psychopaths are capable of, as I describe in ‘What Kind of Sadists?‘. The only moral or legal limit they appear to have, is that they haven’t actually killed me, although they have clearly incited and encouraged hundreds of security guards and members of the public to the point where I could be.

There is also truly disturbing thing that happened a couple of weeks after my mothers death, which suggests there really are no limits to what the police could have done. This involved a member of staff at that Waitrose store in North End Road that I talked about in the ‘rough day in London’ post linked above. According to my mother’s friend, she was handed some flowers by the Waitrose line manager because she had noticed that her friend (my mother) had not been with her when she had shopped there (they often shopped together). I will discuss this again later.

Whether it was intentional or not, having two influenza jabs and a Covid booster in two days, definately took it’s toll on my mother, and made the weeks and months leading up to her death even more painful for her, and difficult for us, her family and friends. However, a couple of monnths after her death, I visited the pharmacy in question, recording discreetly with my smartphone, and asked for some medication for myself. Although the staff appeared a little rude, they gave no indication that they recognized me.

I will add more to this later, this is all I can cope with for one day.

Another Week In London

I was back in London again for a week. As I passed through Gatwick customs, where I’ve been routinely insulted and intimidated for the last 15 years and 100+ trips, one of the officers present appeared deeply shame faced when I looked him in the eye on passing through.

Walking along Fulham Broadway for the first time, and the first police car to pass me. The car had to slow due to building works on the road, and the driver after looking at me and clearly recognizing me, then looked at the barriers and scaffolding to his left and theatrically laughed before looking at me again stern faced.

A couple of days later, I was sitting at the cafe next to the Met Police station in Kensington High Street, and several machine gun wielding police were heading back there, as I sat facing them. One of them looked at me, then stopped and looked past me, and gave a theatrical wave. I turned around and could see nobody who might be acknowledging his wave.

At the Fulham Broadway shopping center, I was walking out on one occasion when a couple of young girls of about 15 or 16 passed. A Neill Catton male CIS security guard, who I can’t remember seeing before, theatrically checked them out, almost bending over to get a closer look.

On another occasion, I went into the Boots store there, for the first time in a long while. This is the store in which the Ricky Gardezi TSS security guards would follow me around, arms folded menacingly, while smirking – when I was going in there to collect essential prescriptions for my elderly mother dying of cancer. This time, there did not appear to be any security guard in the store, but as I turned to come out after using the self-service till, I saw that a large black male security guard was standing outside at the door, arms folded and craning his neck to look at me with theatrical curiosity. As soon as I exited the store, he walked off smirking. I then took a photo of him, which he saw and gave me an equally theatrical look of innocence and puzzlement as to why I would be doing so.

I left London through Victoria rail station. At the WH Smiths there, I’ve been followed and gaslighted by the security guards for the last few years. I would go there to buy crime magazines for my elderly mother. It appears that Ricky Gardezi, the CEO of Total Security Services (TSS), which employs the guards at WH Smiths (and Boots, Tesco etc.), is still having me pointed out to his security guards. As I walked towards him and out of the store, he stood looking at me smirking, but his expression changed to anxiety when he realized I was recording him.

Another disturbing incident occured at Victoria Station while I was having a coffee upstairs, whilst waiting for my train. Looking down on the ground floor below, I saw three Met Police officers pass a group of Italian schoolkids of maybe 13 or 14, mainly girls. One of the officers theatrically checked out one of the girls as she passed him, and then turned to his colleagues and laughed.

Reply From Mark Adedeji Fulham Broadway Center Management

Deutsche International Custodial Services security guard Fulham Broadway

Deutsche International Custodial Limited Fulham Broadway Wilkos security guard who was agressive after I made my original complaint to Mark Adedeji

I recently asked the General Pharmaceutical Council if I could make a complaint to them anonymously, over my harassment and gaslighting by the TSS security guards in Boots at the Fulham Broadway Center. I had been left too intimidated to collect cancer medication prescriptions for my dying mother. After making a complaint two years ago to the store and to Mark Adedji, his CIS security guards physically threatened me. They threatened me again last month.

In my query to the GPC, I made clear that I wished to make the complaint anonymously, as I had justified reason to believe I could be put in physical danger from Mark Adedeji’s security guards, or by TSS security guards (TSS Security is run by Ricky Gardezi). I also made clear that I could not go to the police, as the police were obviously pointing me out to these security firms with incitement to harass and gaslight me. I forwarded this query on to Mark Adedeji, Ricky Gardezi, Boots Customer Care, and Neill Catton (the head of CIS security).

I recieved no reply from Ricky Gardezi, Boots, or Neill Catton. Mark Adedeji replied back within an hour as follows :

Good morning,

You have correctly addressed your complaint to the Pharmacy regulation board and Boots Customer care.

They are the right people to contact and will look into your complaint.

I can also advise that you contact the police, if you have any further complaints.

Kind regards

Centre Management.

I replied back today thus :

I really do believe you need to stop gaslighting me this late in the day Sir. As I made clear in the email, the Met police are obviously pointing me out to your security guards, with incitement to mock me for ‘not liking to be looked at’, just as they have in dozens of other shopping centers from Spain to the Ukraine over the last 15 years. They have done this not just in the knowledge that I have a prior diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, but because of that in order to cause me extreme psychological distress, aware it’s unlikely I will be able to survive it. That’s not just torture under English Civil Law (and in the case of the police, a clear lifeterm tarrif offence under the Criminal Justice Act of 1988), that’s attempted murder or conspiracy to murder.

Mr Adedeji, I think it’s in your legal interests to stop allowing your CIS security guards in both Hammersmith and Fulham to mock me for ‘not liking to be looked at’, a well as intimidating or threatening me, as several continue to do, and pointing me out to other staff in the shopping center such as Starbucks barristas. I believe the simplest way for you to do that is to actually stop pointing me out to your security guards, and instead focus on individuals who actually pose a risk to the public. I believe if you do this, there is still a slim chance you could yet avoid going to prison for torture under English Civil Law, if not attempted murder or conspiracy to murder.

Cheers.

Note that the infamous CIS security guard ‘Henry’ is still employed by Mark Adedeji, and I witnessed him make a theatrical point of staring in to the Starbucks window at a young girl who could have been no more than 14. Furthermore, two weeks after submitting my reply to Mark Adedeji, a new security guard who I had never seen before, clearly recognized me, so Mr Adedeji is still pointing me out, or allowing me to be pointed out, to his security guards.