78 SPORTS ILLUSTRATED | SI.COM
GPS watch. He had recently checked off the 10K portion
of the Great Manchester Run (in a brisk 47 minutes), and
official race photos captured him as he neared the finish
line, hair tousled, with a tank top over a long-sleeved run-
ning shirt, the Garmin attached to his left wrist.
As police searched for clues in Kinsella’s shooting, they
unearthed CCTV security footage that captured not the
murder itself but a man on a bicycle, his face obscured,
pedaling toward Kinsella’s home around 5 a.m. And
that man, they found, looked much like Fellows. So, on
May 30, 2018, authorities boarded an easyJet f light arriv-
ing at Manchester Airport from Amsterdam and arrested
him on suspicion of having committed both murders. At
the station, police tried to interview the figure known
in gangland circles as the Iceman, but he stayed silent.
The case against Fellows was far from airtight, but police
did find in his possession a suspicious smartphone that had
been modified so that, if turned on by pressing the power
button together with a volume button, it could enter an
encrypted mode. “These are not the types of phones that can
be bought from Carphone Warehouse,” a prosecutor would
later tell a courtroom, suggesting that this was the type of
device a hit man would use to communicate with a spotter.
In short time, that suspected spotter was arrested, too.
Stephen Boyle, prosecutors would allege, was a friend
and associate of both Fellows and Carroll; he’d trailed
Massey in a car after the Bargain Booze pit stop back
in 2015, and he was lying in wait in ’18, signaling the
Iceman when Kinsella and his dogs approached.Like Fellows, Boyle, at 35, had a litany of small-time
convictions. In that way, he was a typical Salford thug.
In this way, though, he was not: Boyle opened his mouth.
“I haven’t murdered anybody,” he told police when they
arrested him at a hotel outside of Manchester, “but I prob-
ably know more things about it than I should.”
While Boyle’s tease was shocking, it wasn’t enough.
Police needed hard evidence to box him in—that was
the goal when they raided Fellows’s flat, searching for
anything that could link him to the murders. They didn’t
find the bicycle from the CCTV footage. They didn’t find
a murder weapon. What they did find was a mundane
piece of evidence that, in concert with a loose-lipped gang
member, unspooled both cases: the Garmin Forerunner 10
GPS watch.
Investigators downloaded data from the device and
found that Fellows had used it to track not only his runs,
including the Manchester 10K, but also a series of recon-
naisance missions. (He had the foresight to not use the
watch as he cycled to and from the actual murders.)
On one such outing, three months before Massey was
killed, Fellows had traveled from his home in Salford to
the field across the street from Massey’s house. The watch
recorded speeds that suggested a man on a bike, not on foot,
and noted that its wearer had manually stopped recording
his location while he stood by the small stone church. He
spent eight minutes there, having “found his spot, and
found his escape route,” Greaney would later say at trial.
And then he pedaled away.