Martin: I got rough justice

Farmer Tony Martin spoke in detail for the first time today about his prison ordeal, claiming he got "rough justice" for killing a teenage burglar.

The man, whose case has become one of the most talked about in British legal history, was freed after three years behind bars and walked straight into controversy as he sold his story to a newspaper.

Martin shot dead 16-year-old Fred Barras and wounded his accomplice Brendon Fearon when he confronted the pair during a burglary at his isolated home Bleak House in Emneth Hungate, Norfolk.

But in his first interview since being released from jail, the 58-year-old told the Daily Mirror that if police had listened to his worries about rural crime, the whole episode would never have happened.

Martin said: "When you've been through what I've been through, you have to just take it. I am not bitter. "Yes, I am angry. I didn't get justice. I got rough justice."

Survival

Martin tells how he devised his own "psychological plan" for survival behind bars.

In his first meeting with the Daily Mirror shortly before release, he told of his determination to stay sane.

"People do go mad when they allow themselves to. But I am determined to keep my mind healthy."

He says he read history and gardening books. He watched TV, listened to the radio and did algebra.

Martin tells how he received sackfuls of mail when serving his sentence and that fame caused him problems among other prisoners.

He also reveals that he hated the picture used on a badge worn by his supporters as they campaigned for his release.

Martin said he did not feel famous. "I don't want to be notorious. I thought I may be infamous, but I looked that up in the dictionary and it has rather bad connotations, so I don't like that."

He said he was hassled inside because of his notoriety, but he was also feted for it and admitted he felt like Billy the Kid.

The campaign to free him

Talking about the amazing support his case generated, Martin says: "Someone showed me a picture of a badge with my face on it, but it looked nothing like me." And newspapers kept using a picture of him where his eyebrows were "all mussed up".

Showing his vanity, he said in his younger days he was "quite a hit" with the ladies, but he admits he hated the campaign picture "with mad staring eyes".

Talking about the mountain of mail he regularly received in prison expressing support for him, he admitted he had left 11 sackfuls behind in jail.

How to cope with the future

Prison has clearly made Martin philosophical about his life and the future.

He says the only way he survived his ordeal was to make himself tough and face his problems head on.

He said: "Nothing surprises me. After what I've been through, I wouldn't be at all surprised if a double decker bus fell out of the sky on top of us."

He had to be positive "or I would die. When you've been through what I've been through, you have to just take it. I am not bitter."

He said he was angry that he didn't get justice. He could not find the words to describe what he had been through.

He admits being sentenced for murder was the lowest moment of his life, likening the experience to somebody being told they have cancer and just weeks to live.

But looking ahead he foresees salvation in getting back to normal at his farm, although he frets about what he will find when he returns.

He wants to know will his apple, juniper and his walnut trees have survived his long absence? And what about his combine harvester? "I've heard it has been left outside. I do hope not."

First hours of freedom

The first thing he is looking forward to is getting his watch to work again. Unable to buy batteries in prison, Martin's watch had read 8am for the last year of his sentence after the battery ran out. Though other prisoners laughed at him, it provided him with the comforting thought that this would be the time he would finally be free.

After four years behind bars, his worldly goods consist of letters, cards, scraps of paper, photos, toiletries, bread rolls, oranges, ham and an old pair of Christmas socks, crammed into two plastic bags, a reflection of the bachelor life he led before his fateful encounter with the two burglars.

He describes the events of the days leading up to his release as " surreal" as he found himself wearing a suit, in contrast to his prison uniform and the work clothes he used on the farm.

Mr Martin had not washed in two days and felt uncomfortable in the suit he had last worn for his appeal.

For the first hour of liberty, he looks lost, almost unable to answer questions. "I don't think I can feel anything," he says as he drives through the countryside. As freedom begins to sink in, Mr Martin starts to take in the landscape around him.

"Oh there's a hibiscus. A walnut tree. Look, look. I have walnut trees that are 100 years old. There's a bit of insect damage on that one. I wonder-how mine are." Wading into a cornfield, elation at his release takes over and he whoops with delight as he scoops corn over his head.

"I'd say you could 'combine' this today, but it would be best to wait a day. The harvest is early this year."

Then he jokes it is time to get a tan. "I'm a bit pale. I'd like to get browned up a bit."

He has simple demands for what he wants do with his freedom. "I'd like to have some nice dessert wine and some ice-cream. And I'd like to go home."

Back into normal life

At first Martin displays all the characteristics of someone who has become institutionalised.

Prisoner BH900 sits in the back of a car rooting around in his random collection of possessions asking: "Did I bring my Farmer's Weekly? Is it here? It must be."

He is preoccupied with toothpaste, his shaving foam, hardly looking up as the countryside flashes by.

But after a short while as he is driven through the rich East Anglian farmland, he asks the driver of the car to stop.

"How is my house?" he asks over and over. "Are the stairs still standing? The roof? What about the roof ?"

He is also worried how he will cope with the work that will need doing at the abandoned farm because he is now unfit and overweight.

"I'm older now. I'm not as fit as I was. I used to be 10 and a half stone and now I am 16. I need to get this weight off and get back to it."

Looking ahead

Martin cannot wait to wait to be reunited with his dog Otto, although sadly another dog, Bruno, died while he was in prison. Fighting back tears he says: "I cannot wait to see my Otto. It was very upsetting to hear about Bruno, but someone did tell me his coat was in a lovely condition when he died, which is comforting."

Martin admits it will be difficult seeing his mother, who has been ill and lost a lot of weight.

His only other contact with a family member was a Christmas card from his estranged brother three years ago - but he did not reply because he didn't have an address.

Martin is also unhappy about the police presence, a mobile unit, outside his farmhouse.

He says: "Are you telling me the police are outside my house?"

"And people think I'm crackers. The police are looking after me. Isn't that a case of shutting the door after the horse has bolted?

"If they'd done something as simple as listening to my worries before, none of this would have happened. Now I have my own police force. The world has gone quite mad."