The Shooting of Chris Kaba: A story that split South London

This week we’re in Streatham, looking at one of the most significant and most debated cases in recent South London history: the shooting of 24 year old Chris Kaba. An unarmed man, a single police shot, and a city that still hasn’t shaken off the impact. We walk through who Chris was, the world he was moving through, the police intelligence that shaped that night, and the split second decision that changed everything. It’s a case full of contradictions, complexity and questions that don’t sit neatly on either side of a line.

And yes, before we get there, there’s also the usual chaos involving Rachel’s hatred of Sunday nights out, Hannah sniffing her own armpit, and an alarming amount of chat about shepherds. It’s Sinister South, Trevors. You know the drill.

Transcript

Hello. Hi. I'm Rachel.

I'm Hannah. And this is the Sinister South podcast, a terrible foray into the awful things that happen round here. Okay.

I still haven't been as like... No, I liked it. I haven't got my little list of intros that I should probably work on. I like it.

I like a foray. I like a foray. But yeah, yeah, yeah.

How are you? Oh mate, I'm fine. I'm fine. I am running around like a blue arse fly.

I've been into town far more than I want to be recently. And yeah, last night, right, first of all, I'm just gonna put out there. I realised just how old I am.

Okay. Because last night, Trevor's it was a Sunday for full disclosure. And I went out.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I know. I was not.

I was not okay with this situation. Will had booked tickets to go and see one of his favourite bands. And when he first booked the tickets, I was like, Yeah, sure.

Sounds good. It'll be great. We'll have a nice evening.

We did have a nice evening. It was lovely. It was absolutely lovely.

It was nice to spend time with him. I just didn't realise how grumpy leaving the house on a Sunday would make. I mean, I could have.

I hate to say I told you so. I didn't tell you so. But I could have told you so.

You could have done. Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah. No, it was just like, I don't know. I was like, hang on.

I've got to leave the house at 7pm on a Sunday. No, no. This is when I'm in my pyjamas.

And we've got a nice cosy blanket. And, you know, I might, depending on how decadent I'm feeling, have a bath. You know, that's that's a Sunday evening, not getting on a bloody train and going all the way to Hackney of all places to go and see a band.

I mean, as I say, the band was good. It was a nice night. I'm glad I went in the end.

But at the same time, I was just like, I'm not meant to be out. This is not for me. This is not for me.

So I've now vetoed Alexandra Palace gigs because we did one of them recently. And Sunday gigs. There you go.

So that's the excitement. Who would make you go to Ali Pali on a Sunday? My husband, more than likely. Okay.

Who would you actually go to Ali Pali on a Sunday for? Do you know what? I think that they would probably have had to have died some time ago and been miraculously resurrected. You want to see a hologram of Chester? No, no, no. It would have to be someone has somehow managed to reanimate David Bowie.

Big, big talk. Yeah, to make me go to Alexandra Palace on a Sunday. Like for like an evening only show.

You watch like one of the kids become super amazing at something and all of like the exhibition matches or anything are all at Ali Pali on a Sunday. I will be like, as much as I love you, I will crush your dreams. Fuck you kids.

Mummy is not going. You're not very good. I'll put it this way.

When we went to Alexandra Palace for a gig on a Tuesday night as well, I don't know who he thinks I am. I do not do things on a school night. We went to as we were leaving, there was a bloke who was trying to be very helpful.

He was one of the stewards. I was going to say shepherds. He was one of the shepherds.

He was one of the shepherds. It is that time of year. No, he was one of the stewards.

And we said to him, oh, if we go down that way towards the station, are we going to be any more likely to get a hold of a cab? And he laughed and said no. And then he went, but where do you need to go to? Because you could get a bus rather than going, getting a train and all that. We said to him, we need to get back to Lewisham.

And he literally just went, oh, good luck. Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Steward, man.

That's really helpful. So. So, yeah, no, vetoed.

Vetoed any of that. There you go. But yeah, there you go.

That's how I've been, whinging about the fact that I have to leave the house on a Sunday. But no, otherwise, all good. Just work and festive season slowly creeping up on us at a rate of knots, which is terrifying.

Yes. Because I'm in no way prepared this year. Because we're not at home.

Yeah. Which I will put the tree up and stuff. Right.

But I just because I'm like, so not there for December, and then we're not there actual Christmas. That I'm just a bit like, I feel like it's going to pass me by. Yeah.

Like I'm going to turn around and it's going to be like the 5th of January and I'll be like, oh, back to work. You have got a lot going on in December. You are a busy, busy bee.

And I can't talk about any of it, which is annoying. Yeah. But yeah, and it's just made, I just think I'm going to moan straight off.

I'm not. I promised myself as we put these headphones on, I was like, right, you're not allowed to fucking moan. You grumpy, grumpy arse.

So I was like, no, I'm not going to moan. I'm immediately about to start moaning. But no, everything's fine in theory.

It's just whether it comes off in practise. Yeah, fair. And whether I can maintain it without getting ill or having a nervous breakdown.

Yeah. Well, this is the thing. I hear you loud and clear because as we know, and as the Trevors may remember from last year, I doubt it.

But, you know, I famously get very unwell. Yeah, we're counting down to your big cold. Yeah, yeah.

Your one big cold of the year. Completely knocked sideways. Last year, it was laryngitis and I couldn't go to any of the kids' Christmas things.

And so I have been made to be like the amount of guilt tripping that is going on with my kids at the minute. Because you didn't come to last year's, Mummy. You weren't there, Mummy.

You didn't come, Mummy. You need to make sure you're there to see me as a shepherd, Mummy. It's like, OK, fine.

I'm obsessed with shepherds. I'm loving the shepherds today. I feel like shepherd content may be what I'm delivering today.

No idea. Yeah, I've got all of that. But it's like, it's again, I don't think we've got a weekend between now and potentially the end of January where we're not doing something.

And that just makes me feel tired just thinking about it. But all lovely stuff. All very nice.

That's the thing, isn't it? Like, I don't want to moan too much. Yeah. OK, a lot of it in the next couple of weeks is work or like that kind of realm related.

So it's not as if, like, I'm not like sitting here moaning about, oh, having to go on a five star luxury tour around the world. It's so sad to be me. But my diamond shoes are too tight.

But yeah, it's just like, I've got to run on adrenaline. Yeah. Yeah.

Or run on something else. I'm trying to think what else you could run on that isn't illegal. I was just wondering, are you offering me coke on the podcast? Yes, actually.

All that copious coke that I have. I'm confused. Like, can you imagine? I've just sat here and whinged about going to an event on a Sunday.

But you're sitting here on a Monday racking up those lines. It's the only way I get through the week, mate. How are you after all that? I feel like we've covered that.

But I didn't actually ask you the question. No, I'm fine. I'm fine.

I've had a nice, oh, I'm getting undressed. Had a nice few days. At the end of last week, we did our annual, me, gran and mum went to Liberty.

Oh, yes. True us style. Walking around being like, no one died this year.

Normally, we go to the Christmas shop, we have to look for baubles that like, my mum's got the main tree. Right. And everyone's got a bauble on there.

Richard has a Chelsea elf. You know, me and my sister, my brother have got ones, multiple. But then when someone dies, like there was, you know, my mum will find a really beautiful one that represented my great granny.

Like whatever it was, we'd find something. And we're just kind of all of us wandering around being like, no one died. We've got no inspiration this year.

Just ones, just ones we like. With no huge sentimental, like with no crushing grief. No one's going to cry in the Liberty toilets.

What? I know, but it threw us through a loop. We were home by 10. Went to the pub and everything.

We're just kind of all sat there like, oh, we've done that bit now. Well, good. Go home.

No, but it was, it's always nice. That's the indicator that the festive period is beginning. Yeah, nice.

Admittedly, a bit early this year, but it was just when we could make it work. So yes, I got some baubles. Nice.

Very disco themed. I love it. Very, yes.

Well, you know my tree. I do know your tree. Your tree is amazing.

I have a glittery pigeon. We might need to take some photos and put it on the Instagram to show the Trevors how amazing your tree is. Because it is fantastic.

I love it. I was going to say, when you first mentioned, I was going to put the tree up. I was like, yeah, do one.

No, I will, I will. It's just when. And you know, it's one of those things.

I was literally, before we started recording Trevors, I was saying to Rachel, it's like, it's fine. I'll do this. And then I do that.

And then I do this. And then X, and then Y, and then Z, and then this, and then that, and then that. And every time I do one, three more things get added to the list.

And then I keep doing it. And I have to keep going. And I'm just doing it, doing it.

It's fine. It's fine. Yeah.

So yeah, fine. I'll fucking put the tree up. I don't know when.

With my legs while I'm trying to do something else with my arms. I don't know. Shove a broom up my ass, mate.

Let's go. Fucking have it. But no, of course I will.

And I love it when it's up. And it's all pink and sparkly and disco and ridiculous. I absolutely adore your tree.

It makes me very, very happy. I also quite like to try and find the most ridiculous bauble I can to add to your collection for you. I think the last couple of years, it's been alcohol related though.

Yes, I do think so. Away from a different vibe this year. I don't have any leopard print.

You've got no leopard print baubles? No. So there you go. If you feel that way inclined.

Fine. I will see what I can get. You're so like, there should be like a thing in the French.

You don't have to buy me anything. Don't be silly. But I think this has gone on long enough.

I know you're going to do it. So I might as well get what I want. A hundred percent.

A hundred percent. Give me a list and it's all fine. Yeah, I don't think I've got any like leopard.

I've got a leopard. But you've not got anything. But he's golden glitter.

I don't think he's actually leopard print. He's just... Okay, I will have a look and see what I can find that is leopard print. That's good.

I must admit one of the other things I was thinking last night when I was at this gig in Hackney, I mentioned it to you earlier, was it was a very good venue for what could be a live show if we ever did one. However, I did... Could I have my wedding there at the same time? Everyone look at me for a half an hour window, one day, boom, done it. No one look at me for the rest of the year.

I've told you, right? For a live show, all we need to do is get you one of those big deadmaul hats. You want a Daft Punk helmet on there, I know. And we can make that glitter ball.

That would be amazing. Just blinding people. Yeah, exactly.

It's all good. No one needs to see it. It's fine.

But then I did think, well, that would be really stupid, wouldn't it? To do a podcast about South London in East London. But also, you know, to hire out that entire venue for my mum and your mum. Maybe Richard's dad if he wants to fly over for it.

Yeah, true. True, true, true. Although you'll be pleased to know that Will did nothing to quash that.

He was just like, yeah, it'd be great. Because I've always wanted to go off into that sound booth. So these are the important things that we must consider.

But yeah, but on that note, if we're ever going to do a live show... No, shut up! We need more people to listen. So that was my segue. We need more people to listen.

So, Trevors, we love you. But this is the obligatory once an episode plea to go and give us a nice review and a five star rating. Or if you have already done that, or you don't know how to do it, then just tell someone else about the podcast, please.

It would be lovely to get some more listeners. Because we reached 75 episodes last week. 75.

We've got to think about something to do for 100. Should we launch Patreon? Relaunch it, yeah. Actually do it properly this time.

That might be a good idea. But no, if anyone's got any ideas for what they would like the 100th episode to be, do let us know. We can promise nothing, but we're open to ideas.

And also, just to say, I had one person contact us on the website to give us their address for their pin. So anyone else who is a £5 and up patron, you will have a pin coming to you. But just let us know how to get it to you.

We need to know your addresses, please. That might be the best thing to do. Go onto the website.

There is a contact us form. You can pop in the note your address. And it goes to a secure email address.

It will be delivered straight to me, and then I can collate them all into a spreadsheet and send everybody out a pin. So if you can, I'm really sorry, you just did that. I can't not mention it.

As I was talking, Hannah just gave her own armpit a whiff. I think I smell. One of us smells.

If it helps, I can't smell you. One of us smells. I was just checking.

That was brilliant. I absolutely loved that. I think I smell.

OK. Oh, dear. So yes, if you would like to do all those nice things, please do.

And we're on all the places that you would expect us to be. And we'll do the rest of that at the end, I think. So, right.

Without further ado. I'm going to get myself comfy because you're telling me a story today. It's, um, I don't think it's going to be quite as long as last week, but.

I think you'd be hard pushed. It's a hefty one, though. Is it? OK, I am settled.

And it's, it is what it is. It is what it is. I'm not going to caveat myself.

We do that too much. We do do that too much. Kirkstall Gardens isn't the sort of road where anyone expects a killing.

It's a quiet residential street in Streatham, the kind of place where the biggest drama on a weeknight is someone having a moan about the bin collectors for a red tag indicating the wrong thing in the wrong bin. Fair. I love it.

Can I just point out right away? I love how you say Streatham because you say it properly. I said Streatham last week, and I'm so common. We're in Streatham.

It's got T's in it, right? You said it nicely. Say it again. Streatham.

Streatham. You've made me self-conscious now. Oh, no, sorry.

You say it very nicely. Stop perceiving how I say Streatham! I'm so sorry. I'll shut up now.

For fuck's sake. Anyway, I was trying to build tension, mate. Honestly.

I'm so sorry. But just after 10pm on a warm September night in 2022, that quiet humdrum was shattered beyond recognition. A convoy of unmarked police cars followed an Audi Q8 down the hill.

There was no sirens, no lights, just the unmistakable choreography of armed officers closing in. When the Audi turned onto Kirkstall Gardens, the police took their chance and boxed the car in. Tyres screeched, officers jumped out of vehicles as quick as lightning and started shouting.

And within seconds, a single gunshot tore through the windscreen of that Audi Q8. One shot. One decision that would see multiple lives turned completely upside down.

One young man dead. A whole city which took a sharp breath in, in a way that has never truly been exhaled. But before we get lost in that moment, it is worth pausing to understand where we are.

South London isn't just a setting for these stories we tell. It's a character in all of them. We've walked these postcodes before, through cases that offered clearer narratives, victims and perpetrators you could comfortably put in their boxes.

We've stood in Granville Gardens talking about Cassandra McDermott, a young woman murdered by an abusive man. We've looked at Damilola Taylor, killed just a short walk from here, in an area long shaped by deprivation and youth violence. And only last week, Rachel took us through the Richardsons, whose patch ran through these same boroughs, a reminder that organised crime, fear and control have long roots in this part of the city.

But here, in this story, here it gets murky. Because Chris Cabber isn't a neat victim. He was assumed to be father, a talented musician, a young man loved fiercely by his family, and also a young man deeply entangled in the violent world around him.

And the officer who shot him isn't a neat villain. He was an experienced firearm sergeant with a previously spotless record, trained for moments just like this, who insists he believed he was protecting himself, his colleagues and the public. This is why this case hits differently.

For once, the story doesn't offer clean lines, there's no comfortable place to put your judgement. Instead, we're left with a tragedy that sits right in the middle, in the grey area where mistrust, fear, violence, race and a split second decision collide. And that's exactly why we're here.

Because South London stories are rarely simple, and some of them refuse completely to play by the narrative rules. Before the police lights, before the protests, before his name became a headline, Chris Cabber was a boy growing up in South London. He was born in 1998 to Congolese parents and raised in Brixton Hill, in a part of the city that carries layers of history.

Windrush routes, estate stairwells, music studios and converted basements, and the quiet churn of families trying to make the best of what they've got. People that knew him described him as a child who was bright, funny and a little mischievous. He could be stubborn in that way that boys often are when they're desperate to be seen as bigger than they are.

He was close to his siblings and proud of his family. Music found Chris early. It wasn't just a hobby for him.

I sounded like you. I love that. Music found Chris early.

Music wasn't just a hobby for him. It was a language. A way to express what wasn't spoken.

A way to be someone bigger. By his mid-teens, he was using the stage name Maddox, which later evolved into Mad-itch, and then just to itch or sometimes itchy. He started spending time with a group of boys from the local estates who called themselves Six-Seven.

Depending on who you ask, Six-Seven were a drool collective, a group of childhood friends or a dangerous street gang, or all three at once. For boys like Chris, Six-Seven offered identity, loyalty, protection, creativity, and a sense of being part of something more powerful than the sum of its parts. And I know the Six-Seven thing is going to get me in trouble with teenagers across the land.

No, I was just going to say, if anyone knows what the fuck that is... I think it doesn't mean anything and I think that's the point. Okay. And I think us millennials and older are trying to make sense of something that the younger people are just going, no, it doesn't mean anything.

I see. Six-Seven, Six-Seven. It's from a song and I think it's also got something to do with a basketball player who is six foot seven.

Oh. Like there's all these, there's thousands of mad theories about what it means, but I genuinely think it just doesn't mean anything. It's just there to wind people like me up.

Yeah. Okay, good. Good to know because I just hear five, six, seven, eight.

Okay. Chris's involvement in Six-Seven opened doors musically. They were part of the early wave of UK drill that put Brixton, Kennington and Wandsworth on the cultural map.

Their videos racked up millions of views. Their sound was distinctive, dark, bass heavy, unvarnished, shaped by the streets they came from. But the attention came with shadows.

Police labelled them a gang. Rivals saw them as targets. The line between music and real conflict blurred, often.

The members of Six-Seven were no angels, and I'll talk more about the collective slash gang in a second. In Chris's life, that duality showed up in his early run-ins with the police. As a teenager and young adult, he accumulated a series of convictions, the most serious of which came in 2019 when he was sentenced to four years in prison for possession of an imitation firearm with intent.

Oh God. It was the kind of offence that often comes from bravado mixed with fear and that extreme defence of reputation. Before that, there had been other incidents, kind of violence-related offences, weapons possession, even a traffic-related knife offence in 2020.

None of this made Chris unique, let's be honest. It made him a young man caught in the gravitational field of a postcode war he hadn't created but had grown up inside. A boy who had learned early that reputation could be armour, and it could also be a trap.

And yet, even with all of that, there are other parts of Chris's life running in parallel. He was in a long-term relationship, his partner was pregnant, family members talk about him being excited and nervous in equal measure, trying to imagine himself as a father, trying to straighten out the parts of his life that had taken on a life of their own. Like so many young men in South London, he was walking a tightrope between who he had been, who he was trying to be, and who the world already assumed he was.

So a very brief side quest into the story of 6-7. So to understand the world Chris moved through, you have to understand 6-7. Before they became 6-7, they had operated under OSG, which stands for, I believe, On-Site Gang.

Okay. That got abbreviated to 647, which are the numbers on an old-school mobile phone keypad you'd need to press to type out OSG. Oh, okay.

However, that also happened to be the same numbers you'd need to press to get NPG, who were the New Park Gunners. Oh, okay. To avoid unnecessary drama, the OSG shortened their new name to simply 6-7.

Right, fine. The core early members included names that anyone who followed drill in the mid-2010s would recognise. LD, ASAP, or ASAP, I don't know which way it is.

Monkey, Itchy, Dimsy, R6, Liquez, and others who drifted in and out of projects with each other. And I've never felt more white or middle class in my entire fucking life. I'm old, I'm just like, what? You've just made noise.

Yep, that was French, that bit. Each had their own sound, but together they built something distinct. That murky, bass-heavy, unfiltered style that caught fire online.

Their breakout moment came around 2015-16, when tracks like Live Corn, Take It There, Skeng Man, and the iconic Let's Lurk pushed them into the spotlight. Their freestyles on Link Up TV, GRM Daily, and Press Play racked up millions of views. They weren't polished, they weren't industry-ready, but that was the point.

The videos were filmed in stairwells, car parks, and Brixton alleyways that made their videos feel familiar even to those not from the area. To their fans, 6ix7ine were innovators, one of the first collectives to give UK drill its identity, long before Central C, Diggity, or Heady One broke into the mainstream charts. To the police, they were a dangerous street gang, and that reputation didn't come from nowhere.

They were rooted in a postcode that had been locked in a decade-long feud with rivals across London. Police intelligence attributed stabbings, shootings, and firebombings to tensions between these groups, and 6ix7ine's lyrics sometimes referenced these very real events, cryptically or otherwise. Chris wasn't the most famous member, he wasn't front and centre, but he was inside the world of 6ix7ine, its loyalty, its bravado, and its opportunities, along with its escalating dangers and rivalries.

He entered the collective at a young age, and like so many boys in groups like 6ix7ine, he stayed because it gave him belonging, identity, safety, and status. Chris wasn't just shaped by 6ix7ine, he helped shape them. His friendships, his music, his conflicts, his reputation, all of it fed into a world that was equal parts opportunity and risk.

And as he moved into adulthood, that world became harder to step away from. Even as he tried to focus on fatherhood and find a steadier path, the rivalries, alliances, past offences, and police attention didn't disappear. This is the world Chris was living in, days before the shooting.

The world he was carrying with him when he turned onto Kirkstall Gardens. In the days leading up to the incident, two worlds were moving on a collision course. Chris's world, with all its complications and dangers, and the world of the Met Police Firearms Command, who were dealing with a spike in gun-related intelligence across South London.

Neither side knew it yet, but both were about to meet at the worst possible moment. On the night of the 30th of August, 2022, Chris was allegedly involved in a violent incident in Hackney, a nightclub shooting that would later become central to the way the police understood Chris and also the LDQ8 involved. Once the trials ended and reporting restrictions were lifted, CCTV footage from inside the club became public.

It showed a man, alleged by the police to be Chris Cabber, moving through a crowded bar, weaving towards a man known to be a rival. A gun appears, a shot is fired into the man's leg. Panic ensues, shouting, screaming, and hundreds of people trying to escape the club.

The victim runs, the shooter follows, and once outside, fires the gun again. If Chris had lived, he would have been arrested and tried for attempted murder. That's not supposition, that's what the CPS have since confirmed definitively.

Right, okay. But crucially, and this is the part we kind of need to hold on to, the officers who later cornered the LDQ8 did not know who was driving it. Okay.

They knew the vehicle, they knew the registration plate, they did not know the driver. Okay. On the 4th of September 2022, the night before the shooting on Kirkstall Gardens, police received a report of another gunfire incident in Brixton.

Witnesses described seeing a man with a shotgun. Three men were reported leaving the scene in two cars, one of which was an Audi Q8 with the registration number YF19NMM. Okay.

That single detail, a number plate scribbled down during a briefing, would change the course of the following 24 hours. Because in the firearms unit daily briefing on the 5th of September, the Brixton incident was flagged. Officers were told the Audi had been linked to a shooting and the suspects were still at large.

No weapons had been recovered. There was no confirmation of who the suspects were. No names, no descriptions, just a car associated with violence and an unresolved firearms threat.

Right, okay. And in policing, especially armed policing, unresolved threat is pretty much the most dangerous kind. So that was the intelligence pictures, that was the intelligence picture, sorry, and what the police actually knew.

So here is the crucial point and one we have to keep returning to. Police did not know they were following Chris Cabber. Right, so they've got footage of him in Hackney, but they don't know who he is.

And that was a week before. And that, but they do know the car. So there's, I haven't... Sorry, if I'm jumping ahead.

No, it's difficult because there's also, Chris died, he didn't stand trial, that like, I think it's pretty undisputed that it is him in the CCTV of the club. Right. But I don't know.

Yeah, we weren't there. No one knows. Yeah.

And so it's kind of, there's also a lot of confusion. I read multiple different reports. And if I'm completely frank, I can't remember how much of it I've put in.

Fair enough. Because there was just a lot about the Audi and it being driven by somebody else. Right.

Being driven by a girl, being driven by, to that scene, to the Brixton scene. And not, like, no one really having a clear, like, this is Chris Cabber's car, or this is this person's car that Chris might be driving or anything like that. Right.

Okay. And yeah, Chris was on their radar in terms of he'd been arrested before and he'd done time before, but it wasn't.

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