First-person retrospective by Cameron Lobban

In 2019, I was arrested after an incident in Normanton, West Yorkshire, that looked almost impossible to defend on first impression.

The surface-level version was easy for people to judge.

I was dressed in full black tactical-style clothing. I was wearing a black poncho, a black gaiter, a black ballistic vest, and my custom light-up mask. During the incident, I also let off a smoke grenade in the road.

To anyone looking at it cold, I understand exactly how that looked.

But that surface-level version misses what actually happened.

I was brutally attacked.

I was injured.

I was spitting blood when police and ambulance arrived.

Then West Yorkshire Police arrested me.

They laughed at me. They joked about me looking like “Batman.” They failed to collect CCTV from Asda or the surrounding area. They seized my Level 3A ballistic vest, kept it sealed in a plastic bag for around a year and a half, returned it covered in mould, and refused to compensate me for it.

I was later convicted in magistrates’ court for possession of an offensive weapon.

My duty solicitor wanted me to plead guilty.

I refused.

I looked up the law myself. I knew the law was on my side. I knew a 2.6-inch non-locking folding pocketknife was not automatically an offensive weapon just because the rest of the situation looked bad.

So I took it to Crown Court.

I represented myself.

I went to Crown Court wearing the same type of full black tactical attire and custom light-up mask.

And I won.

What happened near Asda

It started at about 3am.

I was walking past the local Asda in Normanton, West Yorkshire.

A car sped down the road. The driver slammed on the brakes and stopped to confront me.

Two big, drunk travellers confronted me.

Then they proceeded to beat the living shit out of me.

I was punched repeatedly in the head. My head was knocked around. I was attacked hard enough that, by the time police and ambulance arrived, I was spitting out blood.

One of the worst parts was having my head stomped into the pavement.

That is not a small detail. That is not a minor scuffle. That is not “a disagreement.” That is a serious assault.

I was attacked in the street, in the middle of my own town, near a supermarket, with cameras all around the area.

When police and ambulance arrived, I was injured. I was spitting blood. I was the one who had just been beaten.

But the way I looked became the story.

The tactical clothing and mask

I was wearing full black tactical-style attire.

That included a black poncho, a black gaiter, a black ballistic vest, and my custom light-up mask.

The outfit was not random. It was part of my own expression. It was also a protest about human rights and freedom of expression.

People should not be treated as criminals simply because they look different, wear a mask, dress unusually, wear tactical-style clothing, or express themselves in a way that makes other people uncomfortable.

My point was simple: freedom of expression should mean something.

Article 10 of the Human Rights Act 1998 protects freedom of expression. It includes the freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas.

That does not mean freedom of expression gives someone immunity from criminal law. It does not.

But it does mean appearance alone should not be treated as guilt.

Looking unusual is not a crime.

Wearing black is not a crime.

Wearing a mask is not proof of criminal intent.

Wearing a ballistic vest is not proof that you are the aggressor.

Dressing in a way that makes people uncomfortable does not mean the police get to ignore what actually happened.

The entire case became a lesson in how quickly people judge based on appearance instead of evidence.

The smoke grenade

During the incident, I let off a smoke grenade in the road.

That sounds dramatic because it was dramatic.

But I did it because I was trying to confuse my attackers and get away.

I was being confronted and attacked. I was trying to escape. I was not trying to hurt anyone. I was trying to create confusion long enough to get away from people who were attacking me.

A smoke grenade looks bad when people want it to look bad.

But context matters.

If someone is being attacked and they use smoke to create distance and escape, that is very different from someone using smoke to start trouble or harm people.

The police focused on the image of the situation.

Black clothing. Mask. Vest. Smoke.

But the real issue was that I had been attacked.

West Yorkshire Police laughed at me

When West Yorkshire Police arrested me, they laughed at me.

They joked about me and called me “Batman.”

That stayed with me.

I had just been beaten. I was injured. I was spitting blood. I had been attacked in the street near Asda in Normanton.

And the police laughed.

That tells you exactly how I was treated from the start.

They did not treat me like someone who had just been assaulted. They treated me like a joke. They saw the mask, the black clothing, the vest, and the smoke, and that became their story.

The actual assault against me became secondary.

The injuries became secondary.

The missing CCTV became secondary.

The way I looked became more important than what had happened to me.

The CCTV West Yorkshire Police failed to collect

West Yorkshire Police failed to collect CCTV from Asda or the surrounding area.

This happened near the local Asda in Normanton, in a town centre area with cameras around.

I was not attacked in a field in the middle of nowhere. I was not attacked somewhere with no possible evidence. I was in a town centre, near a supermarket, with CCTV in the area.

CCTV should have been one of the first things police collected.

They did not collect it.

I went to Asda myself afterwards and asked about the CCTV.

Asda told me police had never come for it.

By the time I asked, the footage had been deleted.

That is not a small failure. That is a massive failure.

The CCTV could have shown the car speeding down the road. It could have shown the driver slamming on the brakes. It could have shown the men confronting me. It could have shown the assault. It could have shown me being punched. It could have shown me being stomped. It could have shown the full sequence of events before police arrived.

Instead, it was allowed to disappear.

I had been attacked in a camera-covered area, and West Yorkshire Police did not get the footage.

That was lazy, negligent policing.

When the police fail to collect obvious CCTV from a serious assault near a supermarket and town centre, they are not doing a proper investigation.

They had time to arrest me.

They had time to laugh at me.

They had time to joke about “Batman.”

But they did not have time to collect CCTV from Asda before it was deleted.

That failure mattered.

It still matters.

The ballistic vest West Yorkshire Police ruined

West Yorkshire Police also took my Level 3A ballistic vest.

That vest cost around £300.

I had worn it all night. It was wet with sweat when they took it.

They sealed it in a plastic bag.

Why?

Anyone with basic common sense knows what happens when you seal sweat-soaked fabric and protective gear in a plastic bag for a long period of time. It traps moisture. It creates exactly the kind of conditions where mould can grow.

West Yorkshire Police kept that vest for around a year and a half.

When I finally got it back, it was covered in mould.

It was ruined.

It was not something I could safely or reasonably use anymore, so I had to discard it.

West Yorkshire Police refused to compensate me for it.

In practical terms, they stole my vest.

They took a £300 Level 3A ballistic vest, kept it for around eighteen months, stored it in a way that ruined it, returned it covered in mould, and refused to pay for the damage.

Returning ruined property is not the same as returning property.

If police take someone’s property, they have a responsibility to store it properly. If they return it mouldy and unusable, they have not returned it in any meaningful sense.

They returned the remains of something they had destroyed.

The charges

At first, they had around four charges against me.

In the end, they only pursued the offensive weapon charge.

That matters because it shows how much of the original case fell away.

The charge they chose to pursue was possession of an offensive weapon.

The item at the centre of that charge was a 2.6-inch non-locking folding pocketknife.

That detail was everything.

The prosecution wanted the court to look at the whole situation and treat the knife as an offensive weapon because the circumstances looked bad.

I was wearing black tactical-style clothing. I had a mask. I had a ballistic vest. I had used smoke. I had been arrested after a violent incident.

But criminal law is not supposed to work by vibes.

It is not supposed to work by appearances.

It is not supposed to work by “he looks suspicious.”

The prosecution had to prove the offence.

They had to prove the legal elements.

They had to prove that the item was an offensive weapon in law.

The law mattered

Under section 1 of the Prevention of Crime Act 1953, the offence concerns having an offensive weapon in a public place without lawful authority or reasonable excuse.

An offensive weapon is not simply “any object that looks bad in context.”

The law deals with weapons that are made for causing injury, adapted for causing injury, or intended by the person carrying them for causing injury.

That distinction matters.

A knife made as a weapon is one thing.

A knife modified or adapted into a weapon is another thing.

A normal folding pocketknife is different.

There is also separate law on bladed articles under section 139 of the Criminal Justice Act 1988. That section treats folding pocketknives differently where the cutting edge does not exceed three inches.

My knife was a 2.6-inch non-locking folding pocketknife.

It was under three inches.

It did not lock.

That does not mean every small folding pocketknife is automatically harmless in every possible situation. A normal item can become legally serious if the prosecution proves it was intended for use as a weapon.

But that is the point.

They still had to prove intent.

They still had to prove the actual charge.

They could not just point at my clothing, my mask, my vest, and the smoke, then ask the court to assume the knife was an offensive weapon.

Bad optics are not proof.

Looking unusual is not proof.

Being attacked while wearing black tactical gear is not proof.

Using smoke to get away from attackers is not proof.

Carrying a 2.6-inch non-locking folding pocketknife is not automatically possession of an offensive weapon.

The law mattered, and I knew it mattered.

Magistrates’ court

I was initially found guilty in magistrates’ court.

That was a horrible moment because I knew the law had not been properly applied.

I knew the situation looked bad, but looking bad is not the same as being guilty.

The magistrates’ court conviction felt like the surface-level version of events had won.

Black clothes.

Mask.

Vest.

Smoke.

Knife.

Conviction.

That was the lazy version of the story.

It ignored the assault. It ignored the missing CCTV. It ignored the fact I was injured and spitting blood. It ignored the context of why I used smoke. It ignored the actual legal distinction around a 2.6-inch non-locking folding pocketknife.

It treated appearance as guilt.

That is exactly what should not happen in a criminal court.

My duty solicitor wanted me to plead guilty

My duty solicitor wanted me to plead guilty.

I refused.

I had looked up the law myself.

I knew that pleading guilty would mean accepting something I did not accept. It would mean accepting that I was guilty when I knew the law had not been properly applied.

The easy option would have been to fold.

A lot of people would have folded.

A lot of people would have listened to the duty solicitor, taken the advice, pleaded guilty, and tried to move on.

But I knew I was right.

I knew the prosecution still had to prove the legal elements.

I knew the knife was a 2.6-inch non-locking folding pocketknife.

I knew the law around folding pocketknives mattered.

I knew that being dressed unusually did not make me guilty.

So I refused to plead guilty.

I represented myself

I appealed to Crown Court.

Then I represented myself.

That was not a small decision.

I was going up against the system after already being found guilty once. I had police evidence against me. I had the optics against me. I had a situation that looked terrible on paper. I had a solicitor who had wanted me to plead guilty.

But I also had the law.

And I knew the law.

I knew the exact point I needed to make.

The prosecution could make me look strange. They could make me look suspicious. They could make the situation sound dramatic. They could talk about the black clothing, the mask, the vest, the smoke, and the knife.

But they still had to prove that I had an offensive weapon.

That was the issue.

Not whether I looked normal.

Not whether officers thought I looked like Batman.

Not whether my clothing made people uncomfortable.

Not whether the smoke grenade sounded dramatic.

The issue was whether the prosecution could prove the charge.

I went to Crown Court in the same attire

I even went to Crown Court wearing my full black tactical attire and custom light-up mask.

Some people will think that was insane.

To me, it made the point.

I was not going to hide who I was to make the court more comfortable.

My appearance was part of my expression. It was part of the point. It was part of the protest. It was also part of the exact issue in the case.

The court was not there to decide whether I looked unusual.

The court was not there to decide whether I dressed like other people.

The court was not there to decide whether West Yorkshire Police thought I looked like Batman.

The court was there to decide whether the prosecution could prove possession of an offensive weapon.

That is what mattered.

If the law only protects people who look normal, then it is not really protecting freedom of expression.

If courts allow appearance to replace evidence, then the system has failed.

So I went as myself.

Full black.

Tactical attire.

Custom light-up mask.

The same person they had judged on appearance.

And then I won.

Crown Court

In Crown Court, the magistrates’ court conviction did not survive.

I was acquitted.

That is the part people need to understand.

I had already been found guilty once.

I had already been told to plead guilty.

I had already been laughed at by police.

I had already had obvious CCTV allowed to disappear.

I had already had my ballistic vest ruined.

I had already been treated like the problem after being beaten in the street.

Then I represented myself in Crown Court and won.

That does not happen because of luck.

It happened because the details mattered.

It happened because the law mattered.

It happened because the prosecution still had to prove the actual offence.

It happened because a bad-looking situation is not the same as legal guilt.

What the case proved to me

This case proved to me how dangerous lazy assumptions are.

People saw black clothing, a mask, a ballistic vest, smoke, and a knife.

They built a story around that.

But the real story was different.

I was walking past Asda in Normanton at about 3am.

A car sped down the road and stopped to confront me.

Two big, drunk travellers confronted me.

They brutally assaulted me.

My head was punched around.

My head was stomped into the pavement.

I was spitting blood when police and ambulance arrived.

Police laughed at me and called me “Batman.”

West Yorkshire Police failed to collect CCTV from Asda or the surrounding area before it was deleted.

West Yorkshire Police took my £300 Level 3A ballistic vest, sealed it in a plastic bag while it was wet with sweat, kept it for around a year and a half, returned it covered in mould, and refused to compensate me.

I was convicted in magistrates’ court.

I refused to plead guilty.

I represented myself in Crown Court.

I won.

That is the full story.

Not the lazy version.

Not the version based on how I looked.

Not the version built around police jokes.

The full story.

Why I am writing this now

I am writing this because people need to understand how easily appearance can overpower facts.

If you look unusual, people judge you.

If you wear a mask, people judge you.

If you wear tactical clothing, people judge you.

If you wear a ballistic vest, people judge you.

If you use something like smoke to get away during an attack, people judge you.

But judgement is not evidence.

Suspicion is not proof.

Police laughter is not investigation.

A missing CCTV request is not justice.

A ruined ballistic vest is not properly returned property.

A magistrates’ court conviction is not always the end of the story.

And a duty solicitor telling you to plead guilty does not automatically mean they are right.

The law has elements.

The prosecution has to prove those elements.

Courts should not convict people because they look different.

What I want people to take from this

I do not tell this story as legal advice.

Anyone facing criminal proceedings should get proper legal advice if they can.

But I do tell it as a warning.

Know the law.

Know your rights.

Do not assume the system gets everything right the first time.

Do not assume police collected the evidence they should have collected.

Do not assume a solicitor telling you to plead guilty means there is no defence.

Do not assume a conviction in magistrates’ court means the matter is over.

And most importantly, do not let people turn appearance into guilt.

I was brutally assaulted near Asda in Normanton.

I was arrested while injured.

I was laughed at by police.

I had crucial CCTV allowed to disappear.

I had my ballistic vest ruined.

I was convicted.

Then I represented myself in Crown Court and won.

That is why details matter.

That is why evidence matters.

That is why freedom of expression matters.

That is why knowing the law matters.

And that is why “it looks bad” should never be treated as the same thing as “guilty.”