Judgement Day for Sir Ian

The weather was fine and warm. Kevin Pietersen had just played a thrilling innings against Australia in the First Test at Lord's and Goldie Hawn was in town, partying hard.

It was 22 July, 2005, and in his eighth-floor office at New Scotland Yard, commissioner Sir Ian Blair was in upbeat mood.

The Met had come through a second terrorist bombing crisis well and, with a characteristic touch of bombast, he described the efforts of his own force as "close to genius".

Just 24 hours before, a gang of terrorists narrowly failed to repeat the carnage of 7 July when four suicide bombers killed 52 Tube and bus passengers and maimed many more. This time, catastrophe had been averted and although nerves jangled, Londoners carried on.

There were transport delays and constant alarms, all played out against a background of police swoops and the never-ending wail of sirens but the fact that London had escaped a ­second atrocity generated a sense of relief. Small wonder, then, that Sir Ian, the recently-installed Met commissioner, was feeling pleased with himself.

Within hours, he would be fighting for his professional life. The events of that morning were to provide a catalyst for moves directed towards his removal, moves that seem now to be within sight of a result.

The intervening three years, and a string of perceived mistakes and shortcomings, have strengthened his critics' hand but some would say that from the sunny Friday morning of 22 July, 2005, Sir Ian Blair, in career terms, has been a dead man walking.

At 10.06 that morning, Jean Charles de Menezes, a young Brazilian working in London, was shot dead by police officers who mistakenly believed he was a ­suicide bomber.

The tragedy has been extensively investigated and chronicled but its significance has never been greater because, many believe, it is about to spell endgame for Sir Ian.

He had been commissioner for less than six months when de Menezes was killed. He had not been personally involved in the operation but there was an expectation in some quarters that he should resign because of the enormity of the police failures, later confirmed when the Met was found guilty, at the Old Bailey, of breaches under the health and safety laws. The lapses indicated institutional problems, an issue that leads directly to Sir Ian's desk.

Ironically, the failed bombings of 21 July, 2005, presented Scotland Yard with an opportunity. Not only did the Met's terrorist experts gain valuable forensic evidence from bombs that failed to explode, they also had clues to the identities of the would-be bombers. In a rucksack dumped by one suspect at Shepherd's Bush the police found a gym club card in the name of Hussain Osman. The gym's records provided an address at Scotia Road, Tulse Hill. At a meeting just before dawn on the 22nd, senior detectives at the Yard ordered surveillance at the address, linked to a potential KRATOS operation.

KRATOS, named after the God of War in a video game, is police code for shoot-to-kill. It was developed by the Yard after the 9/11 attacks in the United States and draws on the experience of Israeli security services in dealing with suicide bombers. When a KRATOS operation is authorised, firearms officers are instructed to kill, as swiftly as possible, anyone they believe is carrying and capable of detonating a bomb. In practice, this means pumping bullets into a suspect's head, killing the brain instantly before a bomber can trigger a device. That was what happened to de Menezes, although as soon became clear, he was not carrying a bomb.

Jean Charles de Menezes had a dream of owning a farm. He was born in Gonzaga, Brazil, 500 miles north-east of Sao Paulo where his parents lived in a two-bedroom bungalow and worked for a local ranch. Jean Charles came to London in 2003 to try to earn enough money to return home, buy a little land and begin farming. He worked as a kitchen porter, then an electrician, having taught himself the basics of the trade.

In the summer of 2005 he was working hard, usually with his close friend and fellow Brazilian Gesio de Avila. De Menezes, 27, thought that after another three years in London he would have saved enough money to go home. On the morning of 22 July, he arranged to meet his friend de Avila in Kilburn where they were to install a fire alarm system. At 9.33am he walked out of the block of flats where he lived, Scotia Road, Tulse Hill, the address linked to terrorist suspect Hussain Osman.

In the street, an unmarked van kept watch. Two surveillance teams from the Yard's SO12 squad had been assigned to cover the block of flats where, it was believed, Hussain Osman, and another possible suspect, might be hiding. Some of the surveillance officers were armed but only for their own protection. If anyone needed to be taken out, it would be done by specialists from the Yard's C019 who had been called in during the early hours.

An officer codenamed "Frank" was in the van. Others were nearby. Crucially, one officer was instructed to film anyone leaving the flats at Scotia Road. The idea was to relay the film to Scotland Yard to compare images of anyone at the flats with the picture of Hussain Osman. It was a good plan that didn't work because the man detailed to take the film was relieving himself when de Menezes walked out. There was no back-up.
When de Menezes left the building, he was followed by two teams. The identity of the officers was later protected by codewords; their leader was "James".

As the surveillance officers tagged de Menezes, his movements were radioed back to Scotland Yard. Here, in Room 1600, a major operation, named Theseus 2, had been running for hours. Commander Cressida Dick had been woken by a telephone call to her home at 1am asking her to come in early to take control of a KRATOS operation.

Commander Dick, then 44, was one of Sir Ian's most impressive officers. Described as "cool, calm and a safe pair of hands", she was among high-flying university graduates selected for accelerated promotion. Commander Dick, whose father is an Oxford don, was at Balliol Collge, Oxford, with Nicola Horlick, the City superwoman. Ms Dick then took a masters degree in criminology at Cambridge University before joining the Met in 1983.

She took over Operation Trident, the Yard's initiative aimed at combating gun crime. When she was nominated Gold Command in Room 1600 on 22 July, 2005, she was among the Met's most senior officers with firearms experience.

Commander Dick arrived at the Yard at 5am. By 09:36, as de Menezes walked towards Tulse Hill, she was in touch with the surveillance teams. The officers on the ground had photographs of the suspect Hussain Osman taken from CCTV film. One team did not think de Menezes was Nettle Tip, the operational name given to Osman. The other team radioed in a "good possible" identification.

The tension in Room 1600 must have been unbearable. Did they have the right man? The surveillance officers, shadowed by their CO19 colleagues, continued to trail de Menezes. At 09:39 he boarded a number 2 bus. Then, he jumped off, used his mobile phone, and ran to catch it again. He took a seat on the upper deck. The command room asked the surveillance officers to make a judgement. What percentage would they give of a positive identification? The answer came back: "Impossible but thought it was suspect."
That message almost certainly sealed de Menezes's fate. Fresh in Commander Dick's mind was her briefing when she arrived at the Yard. She was told how close London had come to another wave of bombings, reinforced by a chilling piece of CCTV film from Stockwell ­Station. It showed a suicide bomber ­trying to detonate his device on a tube then, amid scenes of panic, dumping his rucksack and escaping up an escalator.

More than 20 officers were in Room 1600 monitoring the pursuit of de Menezes. One, a detective superintendent, heard ­Commander Dick say: "The male must not be allowed to get on a train at all costs".

An armed officer tracking de Menezes, codenamed Charlie 6, believed this meant he had to shoot the suspect to stop him killing innocent people. Another officer "William" thought the KRATOS button had been pushed and it was now a shoot-to-kill operation.

Two officers, codenamed Charlie 2 and Charlie 12, followed de Menezes on to a Northern line train and pumped eight bullets into his head. As he slumped to the floor of the carriage, the officers evacuated ­passengers from the train. At that point, they still believed de Menezes had a bomb.

First reports of the incident were clear: the police had stopped a suicide bomber. But then Operation Theseus 2 began to unravel. An undercurrent of rumour at the Yard suggested the team at Stockwell station had been unable to find a bomb.

Sir Ian, with aides in his eighth floor office was apparently ­unaware of the suspicions of his men on the ground. He demanded a briefing. It is not known precisely what he was told, but if he had any doubts he did not show them.

At 3.29 pm he called a press conference. "As part of operations linked to yesterday's incidents, Met police officers have shot a man inside Stockwell Underground station at approximately 10am. The information I have available is that this shooting is directly linked to the ongoing and expanding anti-terrorist operation."

It was noted that Sir Ian conspicuously failed to confirm the dead man had been a terrorist suspect. This fuelled suspicions among journalists and the Yard's Press Bureau was hit by barrages of questions.

Statements from the Yard suddenly became equivocal. One, put out later in the afternoon, referred to the shot man being under observation because he came out of an address linked to the ­terrorist investigation. His "clothing and behaviour" added to officers' suspicions, the statement added.

Then, around 5pm, Sir Ian attended a briefing with senior officers. It appears he was not told of doubts about de ­Menezes being a bomber. But he clearly had his own suspicions. Around 7pm he met a junior officer in a corridor at the Yard and asked: "Do we know who is the man we have shot?" The reply was: "No."

Sir Ian asked: "Do we know if he was a ­terrorist?" The officer said: "No, Sir, not to my knowledge."

Fifteen minutes later, Sir Ian left the Yard and, it is believed, went home. The next day Sir Ian emerged from his office to tell a TV crew: "The Met is playing out of its socks. I am very pleased with what is happening."

Less than two hours later, around 10.30am, he attended a meeting at which, he has said, he finally learned the truth. The Yard issued a statement clearing the dead man of involvement in the terrorist operation. Sir Ian expressed his "deepest regrets" to the de Menezes family.

As the enormity of the affair became clear, Sir Ian mounted a defence based on the difficulty of dealing with a terrorist emergency and the tough calls his officers had to make. But when he appeared to try to stop an independent inquiry, in favour of an internal investigation, opinion turned against him.

A few days after the shooting he appeared on BBC1's Question Time. The level of anger in the audience might have sent a powerful message to a lesser man but, as in every other crisis that has engulfed him as Met commissioner, he blustered his way through.

An inquest into the death of de Menezes is due to open later this month and may well be over before Christmas. The view in Scotland Yard, Westminster and elsewhere is that if a verdict of unlawful killing is returned, Sir Ian will be told his position is untenable.

He has described his own ability to hang on as "limpet-like" but the unabating storm over the tragic death of an innocent young man may yet prise him loose.