It started so slowly that it was almost unnoticeable, I received emails that weren’t the usual sort of Spam / Phishing stuff that clutters everybody’s inbox almost every day.

They were weird and slightly spooky, one of them read:

‘Welcome to the Lord’s Army Brother

Welcome aboard, you have passed the second stage initiation and can expect to be contacted by a local cell leader within the next few weeks.

There will be further levels of initiation and you will need to prove your devotion in person and will not be finally granted your rank until you pass the final test.

This is to ensure that we keep the emissaries and flunkies of the Global Government out of our ranks.

YOU WILL BE CONTACTED’

I was also signed up for various knife and tools newsletters, which I thought may have been a data leak from people I actually did buy from.

That sort of thing, nothing too worrying, but just strange and not something that I really wanted to be part of my public profile as it could actually hurt my security clearance.

So I responded to the real loons and said that they had the wrong person, apologies for any confusion etc. and just unsubscribed from the mailing lists.

One of the groups became quite hostile and insisted on proving that it was me that had contacted them.

They shared IP address details that were eerily close to my actual setup and one of the mails looked like it had come from my account.

Except it hadn’t, I use a number of different devices and keep a backup of actual activity on one of them.

I raised a Crime Number with the local Police on the basis that somebody might be trying to spoof my details; and as usual, nothing happened past that.

And it was quiet for a week or so.

Or I thought that it was.

Two things happened in quick succession.

The first was that I was blocked from entry to my local supermarket as I’d ‘caused a disturbance’ a few days before.

I asked to see the manager and after standing outside for almost an hour with a security guard staring at me the whole time, was escorted into a small office with a CCTV system set up.

The manager was pleasant but cold.

‘Good afternoon Mr Mills, I understand that you’re denying that you caused us problems on Thursday?’

Thursday – that was weird.

“Yes, definitely if it was Thursday, please show me what I’m supposed to have done.’

He pushed a button and I watched ME or somebody who looked incredibly like me push an assistant into shelves before throwing bottles of wine and champagne to the ground before stalking out of the shop.

I was stunned.

No wonder they banned me.

I would too.

Except.

The manager stared at me, openly hostile now.

‘Well?’

I paused for a second.

‘Don’t get worried, I’m going to take my phone out of my pocket.’

I opened my phone, found the right date and showed him.

‘I was in London on Thursday – I took the 550 main-line train and took this photo of the sunrise over the river. I also took these photos in a restaurant later that day and then a few in a club in Soho. See?’

‘Can I take your phone?’

I handed it over and he scrolled through, opening the Date, Time and GeoTag information.

He looked blankly at me.

‘If you open the Pay app, you’ll see where I spent money on the day, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but that’s not me.’

He sat and thought about it.

‘Sorry, whatever is going on, it’s clear that our store isn’t safe, you’ll need to arrange for home delivery. Sorry.’

And that was it.

It wasn’t me, there was another me and he was fucking my life up.

And then  – the next day, it escalated, massively.

 I got a phone call from an old flame, I haven’t seen or heard from her for four years, not a card, phone call, text message or email.

And she was SCREAMING down the phone.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUTSIDE MY DAD’S HOUSE? HE’S NOT WELL AND HE CAN SEE YOU THERE. JUST STARING FROM ACROSS THE ROAD. WHAT THE FUUUCCK.’

I jumped into the pause.

‘Just shut up and listen OK.’

‘I’m going to turn facetime on and show you where I actually am. While I’m doing that, contact the police, because that IS NOT ME’.

I shared my screen to show my face before reversing the camera to show a view of the Shropshire Hills from my office, and then panning to two sleeping dogs on the sofa.

I turned the camera off.

There was still silence.

‘There’s somebody out there who looks just like me, they’re trying to fuck my life up or something, but they probably didn’t bank on you calling straight away.

So warn anybody who may see me that it’s not me, I’m hundreds of miles away and you should know me better than this anyway.’

There was a noise that may have been a ‘sorry’.

‘Anyway, call the cops, give them my number and then fuck off, I can’t believe that you went straight there without a fucking hello.’

And I hung up.

I sat there for an hour or so, genuinely lost and starting to feel a bit like a rat in a maze.

If I did that would this happen ? If I didn’t do that but did this instead?

There was no right answer and every step was fraught with potential risk.

I decided on a course of action – beginning with buying a burner phone and sim for cash.

I went old school – a Nokia 105 from a second hand shop with no data plan for the sim.

I use Signal for secure messaging on my real phone and I messaged a couple of people with my new number and asked them to expect a call.

And a day later, I was ready.

I called the police and asked to speak to a detective- stating my crime number and explaining the supermarket issue.

An hour later, a bored sounding detective called to discuss my case and it took ages to get my point across to him. He didn’t get the fact that somebody who looked almost exactly like me was tearing into my life at the edges and that I could only see it escalating. 

Eventually he agreed that I should attend the station in two days – to give him time to look into things.

And I settled down to wait.

On the first night, I let the dogs into the back to have a wander – and they went berserk at the farthest hedge. I grabbed a torch and wandered down to see what was going on.

I should explain.

I live in a very rural location – almost no neighbours – and they’re serving military, police and prison service, so there’s no way to look at my house from the front without drawing attention.

It’s open fields to the back, so it’s possible to look but you’d either have to be well back with binoculars – or close to the hedge.

There was a depression where the dogs were going nuts, but if someone had been there, they were a fucking Ninja.

I took them inside and locked up. Nobody was getting in without disturbing them, so I went to bed and fell into a disturbed sleep.

I had a good look from outside the hedge the next morning and the depression was too big for any local animals, so it was possible.

Thursday 25^th May 12:00

I went to see the cops.

I was led to a small interview room, only two chairs and a fiftyish nondescript bloke in a grubby shirt and bad tie was already seated.

He waved vaguely.

‘Sit down Mr Mills, I confess that your case confuses me, I’m DC Fuller, here’s my ID and I can confirm that I’m recording this conversation.’

I tilted my head.

‘Am I a suspect in something officer?’

‘Not at this stage, but you’ll admit that it’s curious.’

He dropped some still photographs on the table of the rampage in the supermarket.

I tilted my head further.

He waited for a few seconds.

‘Now we know that your phone wasn’t present for this incident and that you clocked up bills in some bars and restaurants.’

I stared flatly at him.

‘ And  there was the report from Essex. You definitely weren’t there for that, but people get confused and you could have; in theory sent a lookalike to scare somebody.’

I let my face become completely still and continued to stare at him, a mixture of boredom and curiosity.

His left eye twitched as I stared.

I gave the tiniest of half smiles and let my eyes become friendly. But there was no way I was going to talk.

His eye twitched again.

‘Like I said, it’s a theory but on balance I believe your story.’

His eye twitched twice in rapid succession.

I was a suspect.

Whatever the fuck was going on, it was getting spooky. In just a few weeks I’d gone from being fairly normal to being a suspect in a very weird set of crimes.

I let my mouth move slightly again, no real pretence at a smile now, my face and eyes were flat and I stood to go.

He stood too.

‘Now hold on, I don’t think that you should leave just yet, there’s things… ‘

I smiled at him and he flinched a little.

I walked out.

I was fucked.

The police thought I was a psycho and if I was them, I might believe it too.

I went home and put my phone on silent, placed it into the charger and thought about the maze I was in.

It felt more like a tunnel at an abattoir now and I was being herded towards the bolt gun.

It looked like there was only one way out and it wasn’t going to be a happy ending.

Friday 26^th May 12:00

An assailant walked up to DC Fuller in the station car park and beat the shit out of him.

It was unprovoked, they broke his jaw, nose, four of his ribs and all of his fingers.

They did it in full view of CCTV and walked away.

It was ME.

I got a message from one of my mates to say that the police had put out my photo and details – and not to go home as they had cars watching.

He didn’t ask where I was.

Whatever was happening was escalating quickly.

The police issued a statement that I should be considered armed and dangerous.

They had proof that I was a member of an apocalyptic religious sect and that I was building  up to kill.

People that I knew were interviewed on the 6pm news.

Options were mixed and far too many thought that it may be possible; but at least the old flame had thought about it and her small TV slot was composed of the following words.

‘Bollocks’ ‘Utter shit’ ‘Not him’ ‘He’d have killed that policeman if it was him and he wanted to’

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was very sweet but it wasn’t exactly helpful.

I contented myself with a small smile and waited for another couple of days.

The dog-sitter told the police to go away and only come back when they had DNA or fingerprint evidence to go with a warrant.

And it escalated again.

Saturday 27^th May 11:45

The other me took a stranger down in a park in Edinburgh, cutting his hamstrings and severing the tendons at the wrist with what the police described as a huge Bowie style knife.

Again, in full view of cameras.

He drew an occult symbol with the poor fucker’s blood. He took his time and it was very detailed.

It looked like this:

And I knew that I was being herded towards my own death.

Whoever was behind this knew far too much about my life, I keep it rigidly separated and nobody at all knows all the people that are in it.

This bastard or set of bastards knew everything and everyone.

The message in this would only be understood by one other person.

If it was one man who looked like me, he had near godlike access to information.

If it wasn’t….

Sunday 28^th May 2023 15:00

A jogger was attacked by a man wielding a ‘huge bowie knife’ just outside Glamis Castle.

He was hamstrung and had his tendons cut again, this time he was tied to a tree and the word HELLHOUND was carved into his forehead.

The police and press went berserk, there were live press conferences from all locations.

AND.

The press staked out a forge in Hertfordshire where; a few months earlier, I had hand-made a huge Bowie Knife.

I didn’t have long, if I was right, by Monday evening I’d be an assassin.

Sunday 28^th May 19:00

I opened my burner phone and made a 30 second phone call.

‘Tomorrow. 10 AM. Pies. Chimp. Petal’

I hung up and waited.

Monday 29^th May 10:00

I walked outside the building to meet the press and police.

My solicitor stood to my right and made a statement.

‘My client is innocent of all the allegations against him and will now be escorted by me to the local police station. He will not be transported by police, nor will he be handcuffed or otherwise restrained.

He is not a madman on a murderous spree, nor is he a threat to the general public or police.

In fact, he may have just prevented a terrorist attack of unimaginable impact.

We have released a video to X/ Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and TikTok in which I am asking a number of questions including:

• How is it that there is CCTV of these attacks but no social media?
• How can one man travel across the country and attack people at random but not be spotted once on the way to the attack or immediately after?
• How have the press and police gained information about my client’s life so quickly into this investigation.

I will now ask the press to zoom into my client’s face as he asks one very important question before we go with the police.’

He nodded at me, and I looked directly at the cameras.

‘Can I ask whether there has been a reduction in security at Balmoral today due to the Bank Holiday?’

There was a wall of questions and shouting.

I made hushing motions.

It quieted down.

‘Because if there has, you may need to get that addressed RIGHT NOW.’

I walked with my solicitor to the waiting car and we went off for a little chat with the anti-terror police.

So what happened, where were you, what’s going on? I can hear your questions now.

Let’s backtrack.

Thursday 25^th May 13:00

I made a few phone calls from my burner phone, my friends were expecting the calls and we made our arrangements.

Thursday 25^th May 16:00

The ‘dog-sitter’ an ex armed response policeman arrived and set himself up in front of the TV.

Thursday 25^th May 16:05

I slipped out of the side door and then the back gates. I walked across the fields for half a mile and dropped into the back seat of a car, one of my friends was in the driver’s seat.

‘Nice car, yours?’

‘Nope, it’s a loaner from a friend. Get your head down, we have a way to go.’

Thursday 25^th May 19:45

I used my pass and access code to enter the now-empty building. It was an absolutely valid visit and Security would take no notice – even if they checked the logs.

I had bags of takeaway food and drink, enough to keep me going for a few days and I went to work.

And so..

Monday 29^th May 17:00

The three detectives in the room, including a Chief Superintendent were looking at each other and shaking their heads.

There was a watcher in the corner, a grey nondescript man that may as well have the word spook floating above his head.

My solicitor was impassive, but I suspect that he was enjoying this, my ex-policeman friend had contacted him as he usually dealt with high-end drug dealers and criminals. This time, he got to tell the truth.

I smiled at them.

‘Look we’ve been through this five times now. I don’t know HOW, I don’t know WHO, but somebody was setting me up.

We’re sat here in Gloucester and I can prove categorically that I’ve been in a secure room auditing an actual Top Secret network all weekend. It’s inaccessible from the outside world and I can get you logs from the systems assuming that you have a high enough clearance.

Your teams have already been in and taken all the food and drink containers  – they’ll have my prints and DNA all over them.

And we’re in Gloucester.

Not Scotland.

You’ll have seen the video we released, it was interesting that there were so many high resolution photos of me  – or the other me taken somehow. With no actual eye witnesses though.

He’s clean shaven as late as yesterday and I….’

I stroked my five day growth of beard.

‘My dog-sitter has now allowed you into my house and you’ll have my actual Bowie Knife in your possession. He photographed every stage of that and I know that it’s absolutely spotless.

So I can only guess at where we are now.

Either a set of deranged individuals or somebody else used a doppelganger to set me up for something very bad.

They were so close to making it work too. I suspect that if I’d stayed in the house, I’d be dead by now and my body would be found next to somebody in Balmoral Castle, riddled with bullets but sadly too late to save…. Whoever.

I was lucky that I had people who believed me and were willing to drop everything to help – and that I could hide out in a completely secure location – and that I got out in time.

So…..

Here’s how we do this.

YOU, the security services approached me to help you with a plot you’d found out about by a combination of intelligence gathering and superb police work.

YOU, the security services allowed the plot to proceed and used me as a willing judas goat to divert attention away from the plotters.

YOU, will issue a statement in conjunction with my solicitor showing how we worked together on this, with me trusting completely that you would keep me safe and allow justice to be done.

And then we’ll see if the other me turns up dead or just disappears, my guess is that he’ll look completely different in a month or two and will never be seen again.

Either way works for me, we all know that I should be dead meat and front page news by now and that you’d still be standing front and centre congratulating yourselves on a job well done.’

I stared at the grey man.

‘My solicitor will work with you to agree a suitable compensation package and will attend any press conferences that are necessary.

And now, I’d like to go and walk my dogs.

Can you arrange an escort for the journey please? Blue lights would be nice.’