Walters

26-year-old film editor, Stephen Waldorf, was shot five times by armed police in a case of mistaken identity on 14 January 1983.

Stephen and Susan Stephens were passengers in a Mini driven by Lester Purdey when it was fired upon by Detective Constables Peter Finch and John Jardine. Seriously wounded, Stephen was dragged from the car and handcuffed before being taken to hospital. Susan also received treatment for minor injuries.

This from Wikipedia:

"Detective Constable Peter Finch, who had been one of the arresting officers when he (David Martin) was detained the previous September, so he approached the car along the pavement on foot with his revolver already drawn. Finch later said that at this point the driver glanced at him through the window, then said something to the passenger, who turned and reached toward the rear seat.

Finch opened fire, shooting twice at the passenger-side rear wheel of the Mini, then four times at Waldorf himself. Detective Constable John Jardine then ran up to the back of the Mini, and fired five shots at Waldorf through the rear window. 

During the shooting, Purdey jumped out of the car to escape, and Waldorf attempted to follow him, even though he had already been hit several times, and ended up slumped across the driver's seat. Detective Constable John Jardine then fired twice at Waldorf through the open driver's door.

Finch, meanwhile, had made his way round to the driver's side, where he leaned into the car, aimed his revolver between Waldorf's eyes and said, 'OK, cocksucker,' before pulling the trigger, but the gun did not fire. Finding that he had already used all his ammunition, Finch then pistol whipped Waldorf until he lost consciousness.[1][2][3]

Hit five times and severely wounded in his head, abdomen, and liver, the handcuffed and unconscious Waldorf was then hauled by his arms onto the pavement. Stephens, screaming and protesting, was also dragged from the vehicle."

I was prompted to write 'Walters,' not because an innocent man was shot or because of the stunning brutality of his would-be assassins, but because the men who shot him seemed quite prepared to risk the lives of two innocents in order to get the one bad guy.

Two years before the shooting I was told, by a serving police constable, that the Metropolitan police service had a nickname for the ordinary citizen.

In 1981, Joe Public was a 'Wally,' apparently.

David Martin is at left above, Stephen Waldorf at right

Susan Stephens

'You feared for your life! You feared for your life!

Now why was that, I wonder?

There was no gun or aggressive intent

To provoke your policeman blunder.

What caused you to fire three times more

As I was lying prone?

A lifeless joint, all wet and dead,

Red meat and shattered bone

Should pose no threat to a big, boy blue

With ten years on the force.

Insatiate now you club and kick.

Am I still not enough of a corpse?

But even as you rip and rage

And tear at your broken toy,

Sweat and consternation

Will swallow your porcine joy.

As you roll me over, Bobby,

And find a different boy.

Roll me over, Billy,

Take a good look at my face.

What you see may alter

The circumstances of this case.

There you are blackslapping

And laughing fit to bust,

Empty pistols smoking

As I quietly bite the dust.

All slaver and tails a-wagging,

Like foxhounds at the kill,

The quarries frantic agonies

Provide the perfect thrill

For heroic Bobby Constable

And P.C. bold old Bill...'