The Iceman: Killer Cyclist Who Took Down Salford’s Mr Big – a story that shook Britain’s underworld. Mark Fellows, known as The Iceman, became infamous as the hitman on a bicycle who executed feared gangster Paul Massey, Salford’s “Mr Big,” right outside his home.
This documentary uncovers how the assassination unfolded with chilling precision, how Fellows’ Garmin GPS watch betrayed his perfect plan, and why the court handed him one of the rarest punishments in the UK – a whole life order. From Massey’s decades-long reign to the brutal fall that changed Salford forever, we explore the rise and downfall of two men tied together by violence, power, and betrayal. If you’re fascinated by UK true crime stories, gangland feuds, and shocking courtroom twists, this is a case you cannot miss.
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He’s a dangerous man. He can’t let someone like that cold blooded murderer back out on the streets. The summer evening was still warm when Salford Streets fell into silence. It was July 26th, 2015. And in the quiet of Manchester’s northern suburbs, a man known only by reputation, stepped out of his home. Paul Massie, nicknamed Mr. big, a name that carried the weight of decades of underworld dominance, moved with the casual confidence of someone who had long ruled his turf. His home in Clifton was his castle, and even in his 50s, he remained a feared and respected figure. But in the shadows, someone had already marked him for death. From a distance, the mechanical wor of pedals cut through the air. Not the roar of a car engine or the screech of tires, but the smooth, almost innocent rhythm of a bicycle. At its helm was a man dressed in dark clothing, face obscured, movements precise. The cyclist rode slowly, deliberately, scanning the suburban street with cold calculation. To anyone else, he was just a rider passing by. But for Massie, he was death approaching on two wheels. The assassin stopped, pulled out a scorpion submachine gun, and with chilling composure, opened fire. The sound ripped through the evening, an eruption of rapid shots echoing against brick walls and garden fences. Neighbors froze. Massie staggered, hit multiple times, collapsing near his doorway as bullets riddled his body. The man who had once survived countless street battles. Police crackdowns and underworld vendettas now lay bleeding on his own front path. The killer did not linger. He pedled away as swiftly as he had come, vanishing into the streets of Salford, leaving behind a scene of chaos, sirens, and disbelief. The method was shocking in its simplicity, a bicycle, a machine gun, and a single-minded mission. This wasn’t just murder. It was an execution carried out with a chilling level of planning. It marked the beginning of one of Britain’s most dramatic gangland investigations, one that would uncover the work of a hitman known by the chilling nickname the Iceman. For the people of Salford, the killing of Paul Massie was more than the death of one man. It was a message written in gunfire, a sign that the city’s simmering gang war had reached a new and ruthless stage. And it raised one haunting question. Who could be so bold, so cold as to take down Mr. Big on his own doorstep? This is the story of Mark Fellows, the hitman cyclist who killed Mr. Big. The murder of Paul Massie was not just another gangland hit. It was an event that sent shock waves through the entire United Kingdom. Massie, with his sharp suits and commanding presence, had been a notorious figure in Salford for decades. To some, he was a community protector who kept order on the streets. To others, he was a ruthless crime boss with blood on his hands. His death outside his own home was the ultimate symbol of how fragile even the most feared reputations can be. The killing was brutal, calculated, and audacious. Rarely had a gangland execution been carried out with such icy precision. No driveby in a car, no hidden sniper, but a gunman on a bicycle who could slip in and out unnoticed. For the police, it was unlike anything they had seen in the region. The murder bore all the hallmarks of a professional hit. And immediately, attention turned to the rivalries brewing within Sulford’s underworld. At the heart of those tensions was a feud between two factions. The established Massie Circle and an emerging power led by associates who would stop at nothing to seize control. Drugs, territory, and pride were at stake. And the streets had already seen flare-ups of violence before Massie’s death. But his killing escalated everything into open warfare. The question wasn’t just who pulled the trigger. It was who had sanctioned the hit. And why now? As investigations deepened, one name kept rising. Mark Fellows, a relatively quiet man compared to Massiey’s flamboyance, yet feared by those who knew him. Fellows lived a double life. On the surface, he was an ordinary man with a taste for cycling. Beneath, he was an enforcer, a hitman for hire with nerves of steel. His nickname, the Iceman, came not from myth, but from his reputation for remaining calm under fire, capable of killing with no trace of hesitation. The case of Mark Fellows and the assassination of Mr. vague would come to embody a chilling truth about Britain’s underworld. Power is fleeting, loyalty is fragile, and in the end, even legends can fall to the cold precision of a single man on a bicycle. To understand the murder of Paul Massie, one must first step into the world of the two men at the heart of this story, Massie himself, the notorious Mr. Big and his killer, Mark Fellows, the quiet enforcer who became known as the Iceman. Paul Massie had been a fixture of Salford’s criminal landscape since the 1980s. Born and raised in the gritty estates of Greater Manchester. He grew up in a world where street fights, petty theft, and gang rivalries shaped young men into hardened survivors, Massie was no ordinary thug. Charismatic, physically imposing, and ruthlessly ambitious. He quickly rose through the ranks of Salford’s gangs. By his late 20s, he was already feared as a man who could both orchestrate violence and command loyalty. In the 1990s, he was associated with violent clashes between rival groups, stabbings, and protection rackets. Police saw him as a gang leader. Locals paradoxically often saw him as a man who could keep the streets in order, ensuring disputes didn’t spiral out of control. His presence earned him the media nickname Mr. big, a title that symbolized both his dominance and notoriety. Yet with dominance came enemies. By the mid210s, Massie was locked in an escalating feud with rivals over control of Salford’s lucrative drug markets. Cocaine and heroin flowed through the city, and behind every shipment were fortun. For Massie, his reputation was everything, and his enemies knew that to bring him down would send shock waves across the underworld. Mark Fellows, by contrast, seemed almost invisible. Born in 1980 and raised in Salford, Fellows never flaunted himself the way Massie did. His childhood was marked by the same poverty and street culture. But he lacked the charisma of the older gangster. Instead, Fellows was calculating, cold, and detached. He took to cycling not just as a pastime, but as a lifestyle, an endurance sport that suited his quiet, disciplined nature. His criminal path led him to become an associate of rival factions, a reliable enforcer who could carry out violence without hesitation or emotion. Unlike Massie, fellows sought no spotlight. That anonymity, combined with his ice cold demeanor, earned him the moniker the Iceman. Two men, both shaped by the same environment, but molded into very different figures. Massie, the flamboyant kingpin, larger than life, eager to project power. fellows, the shadow, patient and surgical in his methods. Their clash was inevitable. In Salford, reputations were currency, and one man’s continued dominance was another’s ceiling for fellows. Carrying out the hit on Mr. Big wasn’t just an act of violence. It was a statement that no man, no matter how feared, was untouchable. It is within this backdrop of crumbling loyalties, simmering feuds, and a city drowning in drugs and bloodshed that the paths of Massian fellows finally converged, setting the stage for one of Britain’s most shocking assassinations. By the mid210s, Salford had become a pressure cooker of crime and ambition. The city was a wash with drugs, particularly cocaine, imported through European networks and distributed across Manchester and beyond. Paul Massie, with his decadesl long reputation, still commanded influence, but his grip was slipping. Younger, hungrier figures were pushing into the market, and money flowed as fast as the powder itself. Violence was the inevitable byproduct. Massiey’s operation was built on a mixture of fear and familiarity. His name carried weight to many local dealers. Paying a cut to Mr. Big was the cost of doing business. His network extended through protection rackets, debt collections, and the everp profofitable trade in narcotics. Yet, Massie had become more of a figurehead than a hands-on operator. Age and police scrutiny had dulled his edge, even if his reputation remained razor sharp. Rivals saw an opportunity. Among those rivals was a faction led by associates aligned with Mark Fellows. Fellows was no kingpin himself. He was muscle, an executive, the kind of man who didn’t scheme for empires, but enforced the will of those who did. He worked closely with others in the Salford underworld. Men like Steven Bole, who would later be tried alongside him. Together, they formed the sharp end of a spear aimed at Massiey’s dominance. The method of their operations was meticulous. Fellows combined his passion for cycling with his criminal life in a way no one anticipated. Where others might use cars or motorbikes for quick escapes, fellows saw the practicality of a bicycle. It allowed him to move quietly, avoid cameras, and blend into suburban streets where a car might draw attention. He trained himself physically to endure long, punishing rides, and endurance that mirrored his mental state as a hitman. He was calm, precise, and almost mechanical. The feud between Massiey’s camp and his rivals escalated through tit fortat attacks, shootings, arson, and intimidation that left ordinary residents terrified. Salford’s reputation as a tough workingclass community was being overshadowed by the brutality of its gangland battles. The killing of Massie would not come out of nowhere. It was the culmination of years of conflict sharpened by drugs, pride, and the hunger for control. Police intelligence at the time was aware of these rising tensions, but struggled to penetrate the walls of silence. Informants were scarce, witnesses too frightened, and the gangs themselves adept at creating smokeokc screens. Meanwhile, Fellows and his circle moved like shadows, keeping their plans tightly sealed. When the order was finally given, it was Fellows who accepted the task. His cold demeanor and ability to operate without panic made him the perfect assassin. And so on that summer evening in 2015, his bicycle became both weapon and disguise, the final act of a criminal operation designed not only to eliminate Massie, but to redefine the balance of power in Salford’s underworld. When the shots that killed Paul Massie echoed across Clifton, Greater Manchester police knew instantly this was no ordinary murder. Massie was not just another victim. He was the city’s most notorious gangland figure. His death brazenly executed outside his own home risked igniting an allout war on Salford’s streets for detectives. The pressure was immense solved the case quickly or face escalating bloodshed. The crime scene was meticulously examined. Dozens of shell casings littered the path to Massiey’s front door. Each one a grim clue pointing to the use of a scorpion submachine gun. Neighbors recalled seeing a cyclist fleeing the scene, but fear kept many reluctant to speak too openly. Massiey’s reputation lingered even in death, casting a shadow of intimidation over potential witnesses. The police found themselves chasing a ghost, a hitman who had slipped into the night on two wheels. Detectives began piecing together the puzzle. Intelligence units already had files on the simmering feud between rival Salford factions. Massie had been the figurehead of one side. Across the divide were men hungry to replace him. Mark Fellow’s name surfaced early in the investigation, whispered by informants and noted in intelligence reports. Known for his ties to the rival faction and his quiet but dangerous demeanor, he was far from a flashy suspect. Yet, something about his background, his obsession with cycling, his cold reputation fit the unusual method of the murder. Surveillance teams were deployed. Phone records, CCTV analysis, and financial tracking became the backbone of the inquiry. Detectives discovered that fellows had carried out reconnaissance on Massiey’s home weeks before the killing, cycling past to test routes and timings. The detail was chilling. This was no spur-of-the- moment attack, but a carefully planned execution despite mounting suspicion. Police lacked the hard evidence needed for a conviction. In the months that followed, violence in Sulford continued, further fueling the urgency of the case. Every step forward was met with silence from the community where fear of reprisals outweighed cooperation. Still, the murder of Mr. Big was too significant to leave unsolved. For Greater Manchester Police, catching Massiey’s killer was not just about justice. It was about restoring a sense of control to a city sliding deeper into gangland terror. For more than 2 years after Paul Massiey’s assassination, the investigation remained a labyrinth of leads, dead ends, and fear-driven silence. Detectives suspected Mark Fellows, but suspicion alone was not enough. It wasn’t until another act of violence shook Salford that the case began to crack open. In on May 30th, 2018, John Kinsella, a well-known underworld fixer with links to both Liverpool and Manchester gangs, was gunned down in broad daylight near St. Helens. Kinsella was walking with his partner when a lone cyclist approached. Just like Massie, he was executed with cold efficiency. The weapon was different, but the method, swift, clinical, and on two wheels, was chillingly familiar. This murder bore the same signature. To police, it was confirmation. They were hunting a serial hitman. This was the turning point. By linking the two killings, detectives strengthen their case against Fellows. Digital evidence provided the breakthrough. Investigators uncovered GPS data from a Garmin fitness watch belonging to Fellows. The device had logged one of his training rides, a seemingly ordinary cycling route. But when cross- referenced with Massiey’s home, the data showed fellows had pedled directly past the house weeks before the murder. What he claimed was exercise was in truth. Surveillance. The discovery electrified the case. Technology had done what fearful witnesses could not. Place fellows at the heart of the planning. Coupled with CCTV footage, mobile phone records, and his associations with the rival Salford faction. The evidence began to form an iron cage around him. The calm, almost invisible enforcer was now clearly identifiable as the shadow behind two of Britain’s most notorious gangland executions. For the police, this was more than a turning point. It was a revelation that years of patient investigation had not been in vain. The Iceman had left digital footprints, betraying the meticulous coldness that defined his reputation. The net was finally tightening and the myth of the untouchable cyclist hitman was about to unravel. Once the GPS evidence tied Mark Fellows to the surveillance of Paul Massiey’s home, Greater Manchester police knew it was time to strike. The murders of both Massie and John Kinsula had left communities terrified and the underworld emboldened. Detectives could not risk waiting any longer. They planned a coordinated operation to bring the Iceman in. In the summer of 2018, armed officers surrounded Fellow’s home in Warrington. The operation was swift and overwhelming. Neighbors watched from behind curtains as blackclad police units flooded the quiet suburban street. Weapons raised, voices commanding. Fellows, the man who had pedled silently into Salulford to commit one of Britain’s most audacious hits, was dragged from his house in handcuffs. Calm and emotionless, he offered little resistance. True to his reputation, he remained cold even in the face of arrest. But Fellows was not alone in the dock of suspicion. His close associate Steven Bole was also arrested. Boille had acted as a spotter during the hits, a second pair of eyes to confirm targets and provide support. While fellows carried out the executions, Bole ensured the operations ran smoothly. Police raids recovered phones, clothing, and vehicles tied to both men. The net was widening, catching not just the hitman, but those who had enabled him. The arrest sent a ripple of relief through Salford and beyond. For years, Massie had dominated the city’s streets, and his murder had left a vacuum filled with fear and bloodshed. The capture of his killer was a symbolic victory for law enforcement, proof that no matter how carefully planned or brutally executed, crimes of this scale could not remain unsolved. Yet even in custody, Fellows betrayed no hint of remorse. He denied the charges, maintaining an icy silence during interrogations. Detectives knew the case would be fought tooth and nail in court. The evidence was strong, but it needed to be airtight. CCTV images, phone data, GPS logs, and witness testimony would all be tested before a jury. For the first time, however, the balance of power had shifted. The man once invisible on Salulford streets was now in a cell facing the full weight of British justice. The Iceman had been cornered. The trial of Markf Fellows began in late 2018 at Liverpool Crown Court. Under extraordinary security, this was not just another criminal case. It was the prosecution of one of Britain’s most notorious modern hitmen. Journalists filled the gallery. While police presence inside and outside the courthouse reminded everyone of the gravity of the proceedings, the prosecution laid out its case with precision. Fellows, they argued, had executed both Paul Massie and John Kinsula in cold blood, acting as the ruthless weapon of Salford’s underworld feud. The crown jewel of their evidence was the GPS data from Fellow’s Garmin fitness watch. Jurors saw the damning trail, his supposed training ride that traced directly past Massiey’s home. weeks before the assassination. It was surveillance disguised as exercise, and it left little doubt of his intent. CCTV footage, phone records, and witness testimony reinforced the prosecution’s narrative. Steven Bole, Fellow’s associate, stood trial alongside him. Accused of aiding the killings, prosecutors described Bole as the lookout, the man who ensured the coast was clear. While Fellows pulled the trigger, the defense tried to dismantle the case, arguing that the GPS data was circumstantial, that cycling past the house did not prove murder. Fellows himself remained largely silent. His demeanor as emotionless in court as during the killings, his cold, detached presence unnerved the jury, living up to the nickname the Iceman. In January 2019, the verdict was delivered. Fellows was found guilty of both murders, Paul Massie and John Kinsula. The judge in sentencing him to a whole life order made Fellows only the third criminal in Britain to receive such a punishment outside of terrorism cases. It meant he would never leave prison alive. Boil meanwhile was convicted of Canella’s murder but acquitted in relation to Massie. For Salford and for Britain the trial was a landmark moment. Justice had caught up with the man who thought himself untouchable. Yet beneath the relief, the killings left scars that no sentence could erase. The conviction of Mark Fellows closed one of the darkest chapters in Salford’s modern history. The city that had lived under the shadow of Paul Massie, Mr. Big, now found itself haunted by the chilling precision of the man who killed him. With fellows locked away for life, residents could breathe easier. Yet, the scars of gang warfare ran deep. Families had been shattered. Entire communities had lived in fear. and the ripple effects of the killings continued to shape the criminal landscape. For many, Fellow’s story was a stark reminder of how the underworld adapts. His use of a bicycle, his cold demeanor, and his blending of ordinary hobbies with extraordinary violence demonstrated how organized crime can evolve in unexpected ways. He was not the flashy gangster of old. He was quiet, disciplined, invisible until it was too late. Paul Massiey’s death, meanwhile, left a vacuum in Salford’s underworld. Ral factions moved quickly to claim territory, and the cycle of violence did not end with Fellow’s arrest. The question lingered. Had justice truly been served, or had one ruthless man simply been replaced by others waiting in the wings. The case of Mark Fellows remains more than the tale of a single hitman. It is a story about power, reputation, and the chilling reality that even legends of the underworld can fall not in a blaze of glory, but to the cold calculation of a man known as the Iceman. Man.