In the pre-dawn chill of November 22nd, 1994, a milkman making his rounds in the quiet suburb of Gedling, Nottinghamshire, England, stumbled upon a grim scene that would shatter a family and ignite one of the region’s most enduring cold cases. Tucked away in the secluded Lambley Lane Playing Fields, a taxi sat motionless, its engine silent. Inside, twenty-six-year-old driver Ethsham Ul-Haq Ghafoor—known affectionately to friends and family as Shami—slumped over the wheel, his hands bound tightly behind his back and secured to the steering column. A single gunshot wound to the head had ended his life in what detectives described as a cold-blooded execution.
Shami was a devoted family man from Sherwood Rise, a bustling multicultural neighborhood in Nottingham’s Forest Fields area. He was the proud father of a five-year-old son and eagerly awaiting the birth of his daughter, who was due just five months after his death. His wife would deliver the baby girl without him by her side, leaving their daughter to grow up fatherless.
By day, Shami was unremarkable: a sociable figure among his taxi driver colleagues, chatting about cricket or local gossip during breaks at the rank. But the job’s late hours exposed him to risks he couldn’t ignore. In the weeks leading up to his death, Shami confided in friends that he felt followed, voicing growing concerns for his safety. Police later uncovered hints of underlying tensions, such as financial disputes and personal entanglements that may have drawn him into brushes with local criminals. Though not involved in organized crime, detectives believe he may have “got out of his depth,” crossing paths with the wrong crowd in Nottingham’s shadowy underbelly.
The last confirmed sighting of Shami came just after two a.m. on November 22nd, 1994, captured on grainy CCTV in Carlton Square, a short drive from his home. He was behind the wheel of his black-and-white Ford Sierra, accompanied by three Asian men—passengers, perhaps, or acquaintances. What happened in the intervening two-and-a-half hours remains a mystery. The playing fields where his body was found were an unlikely destination: remote and unlit, far from typical late-night fares. When the milkman peered into the car at four thirty a.m., rigor mortis was already setting in. Shami had been dead for hours.
Nottinghamshire Police launched an immediate murder inquiry, interviewing hundreds and arresting several suspects in the days that followed. Taxi drivers across the city were on edge; leaflets were distributed at ranks, urging vigilance and tips. Yet, leads evaporated. Robbery was clearly not the motive, as Shami’s wallet and earnings were untouched. The case file thickened but yielded no charges, slipping into the cold case archives by the mid-1990s.
Then, in 1995, a bizarre twist: three anonymous missives arrived at the Ghafoor family home. The first two were partial letters, painstakingly scrawled using a stencil—a method so laborious it suggested deliberate anonymity. The third was a greeting card featuring Wallace and Gromit, the beloved Claymation duo, an oddly whimsical choice for such sinister content. Each was mailed by a different sender, postmarked from disparate locations, and riddled with cryptic references to the murder that police deemed “of significant interest.”
For two decades, these clues languished. In 2014, a major review breathed new life into the probe. Detectives publicly released excerpts from the letters and card, hoping to jog memories. Crimestoppers upped the ante with a £20,000 reward.
The turning point came on the thirtieth anniversary in November 2024, when Nottinghamshire Police announced a full reinvestigation, leveraging advances in forensic science to re-examine scene evidence like never before. Crimestoppers, bolstered by an anonymous donor, offered a staggering £50,000 reward—valid for three months—for tips leading to a conviction.
The appeal triggered a flurry of action. Within weeks, five suspects—four men aged fifty-one to sixty-four and a forty-seven-year-old woman—were arrested on suspicion of murder. A sixth, a forty-three-year-old man from Sneinton, followed in December. By February 2025, three more men (all in their fifties) were detained, bringing the total to nine. All have been released on bail as inquiries “continue at pace,” with police thanking the public and media for renewed focus.
These developments have rekindled cautious optimism. Forensic breakthroughs—DNA retesting, perhaps digital traces from overlooked 1990s artifacts—could yet crack the case wide open, but as of this writing in December 2025, the investigation is still in limbo.
Crime Immemorial 