Cowardly Black Country murderer who killed twice to avoid a debt

Look closely into the eyes of Jonathan Houseman and you can see a man struggling to come to terms with the fate that awaits him.

You can see the fear bubbling beneath the double killer’s deadpan expression. His dreams of a lavish lifestyle are crushed. His family ties have been severed. His life is over.

Now, as you read this, the 35-year-old is probably languishing in his cell. That and exercise time, counted in strict minutes, and meal times, counted in strict minutes, and monitored phone calls, counted in strict minutes, is his lot.

And it will be his lot for close to four decades after being convicted, in 2021, of the assassination of ex-boxers and former business associates Brian McIntosh and Will Henry.

In a bid to free himself from a £400,000 debt, Houseman lured the pair, who ran a thriving waste clearance business, to a Brierley Hill industrial estate and gunned them down as they sat, oblivious to the danger, in a Range Rover.

Shortly before the shots were fired, Brian’s fiancée Tanya Hassan sent a message that was beyond mundane: “Chicken and vegetables for tea?”

He replied: “Yes, please.”

During the explosion of violence, on September 30, 2020, 29-year-old Brian, a father of two, was shot four times in the face and neck. Will, 31, was hit twice.

Houseman had been in the back seat of the car when he pulled the gun to the two men sitting in the front. The court heard he initially got out of the car, but then briefly returned to turn off the engine, lights and windscreen wipers before making his escape.

Both victims were popular and respected within the boxing community. I encountered Brian – so powerful in the ring they dubbed him ‘White Tyson’, so accomplished he was once slated to fight Tyson Fury – at a small hall show.

He was a beaming, bear of a man who spent a large part of the evening pressing flesh. Individuals with noses broken more times than the 10 commandments gravitated to him.

Not all in the fight game tread the straight and narrow. It’s the nature of the bloody business.

Houseman, from Stourbridge, walks a lonely, narrow path in prison that may bring him in collision with those who have a score to settle. He knows that. It haunts him.

One prominent member of the boxing community told me matter-of-factly: “I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes. It’s a lot of time and he hasn’t got it in him to hack that amount of time.”

Another face on the Birmingham fight circuit said: “Brian and Will have friends inside, it’s not going to be comfortable for him.

“He’s finished now and he’ll spend those 40 years behind the wall bitter and twisted because he got caught. I applaud the sentence – if you get caught, you get caught. I have no compassion for someone who commits these crimes.”

Much has been written about Brian and Will. Their families – Brian’s brother Eddie was a respected professional light-heavy – have railed against national newspaper coverage that, they felt, tarnished the victims’ reputations.

Brian and Will were hard working, family men. There is no evidence to suggest otherwise. Yet their loved ones – in their darkest hour – have endured claims the pair were bullies who “leaned” on Houseman.

They were devastated by details that surfaced in a TV documentary of the high-profile crime.

Yet, throughout their ordeal, they have treated me as a journalist with courtesy and shown courage and dignity. They have answered painful questions with honestly. Brian’s sister Marie has acted as spokesperson and been a rock for those attempting to bear the unbearable.

They burn with hatred for Houseman – and that flame will never dim. “We believe in a life for a life, an eye for an eye,” Brian’s family said.

In a statement after the sentence, they described Houseman as “a murderer, a liar, a conman who was living a lavish lifestyle that he could not afford”. Much has been written about Brian and Will, yet the press pack that poured over the savage murders have never scratched the surface of Houseman’s persona.

Today, the man behind the police mugshot mask can be revealed as a fantasist who tripped from one “get rich quick” scheme to another.

Business directory Companies House reveals the list of failed enterprises.

As he slipped deeper into debt, Houseman hatched a plot always destined to bring detectives to his door. He had not a prayer of getting away with it.

On the morning after the killings, Will’s partner, Demi Allen, sent a simple text message to Houseman: “You will not get away with this. I promise.”

The family knew who committed the crime. He was prime suspect from the get-go. When snared, his claims the trigger was pulled by a mystery fourth person in the vehicle were, frankly, ludicrous and rubbished by CCTV and forensics evidence.

Houseman may have believed he possessed business acumen, but he was no underworld mastermind.

But, then, Houseman was not a gangster, he was not a hardened criminal. He was a Walter Mitty character immersed in a make believe world of Al Pacino movies.

The ‘hit’ had its roots in those underworld films he loved. He was not a hardman, but craved to be a hardman like his big screen heroes.

In a one-to-one fist fight, the balding gunman would’ve been despatched very quickly by Brian and Will.

“He was a muppet who watched too many gangster films,” one associate told me. “He watched too many gangster movies and thought that’s the way you do things.”

Another said: “To me, he came across as a bit of a nerd.”

Eddie McIntosh said: “He did what he did not because he was being bullied. He did what he did because he wanted the money. I knew him before Brian did through business. He was one of those people you kept away from because he was manipulative and a liar.

“He was a coward. The fact he shot Brian in the back shows what kind of person he was. My mum is Irish, my dad Scottish. It’s a thing to have the open coffin in the house. Because of what he did, we couldn’t do that.”

Eddie added: “He has destroyed so many people, he has caused complete devastation. He has destroyed his own kids’ lives.

“Brian was a lovely guy, he was a great father. We did the boxing together, we sparred together. He was the best of the lot of us.”

I was present at a Villa Park, Birmingham, boxing show when they rang the 10 bell salute, a traditional honour for two men who had provided financial support for local amateur boxing clubs.

The night’s promoter, Tommy Owens, said: “Brian was a great lad, always the life and soul of the party. And he was a talented boxer, he moved more like a welterweight.”

There will never be accolades for Houseman whose crime shocked the country.

And today he will again consider the grinding monotony of the decades ahead.

Much has been written about Brian and Will. Their families – Brian’s brother Eddie was a respected professional light-heavy – have railed against national newspaper coverage that, they felt, tarnished the victims’ reputations.

Brian and Will were hard working, family men. There is no evidence to suggest otherwise. Yet their loved ones – in their darkest hour – have endured claims the pair were bullies who “leaned” on Houseman.

They were devastated by details that surfaced in a TV documentary of the high-profile crime.

Yet, throughout their ordeal, they have treated me as a journalist with courtesy and shown courage and dignity. They have answered painful questions with honestly. Brian’s sister Marie has acted as spokesperson and been a rock for those attempting to bear the unbearable.

They burn with hatred for Houseman – and that flame will never dim. “We believe in a life for a life, an eye for an eye,” Brian’s family said.

In a statement after the sentence, they described Houseman as “a murderer, a liar, a conman who was living a lavish lifestyle that he could not afford”.

Much has been written about Brian and Will, yet the press pack that poured over the savage murders have never scratched the surface of Houseman’s persona.

Today, the man behind the police mugshot mask can be revealed as a fantasist who tripped from one “get rich quick” scheme to another.

Business directory Companies House reveals the list of failed enterprises.

As he slipped deeper into debt, Houseman hatched a plot always destined to bring detectives to his door. He had not a prayer of getting away with it.

On the morning after the killings, Will’s partner, Demi Allen, sent a simple text message to Houseman: “You will not get away with this. I promise.”

The family knew who committed the crime.

He was prime suspect from the get-go. When snared, his claims the trigger was pulled by a mystery fourth person in the vehicle were, frankly, ludicrous and rubbished by CCTV and forensics evidence.

Houseman may have believed he possessed business acumen, but he was no underworld mastermind.

But, then, Houseman was not a gangster, he was not a hardened criminal. He was a Walter Mitty character immersed in a make believe world of Al Pacino movies.

The 'hit' had its roots in those underworld films he loved. He was not a hardman, but craved to be a hardman like his big screen heroes.

In a one-to-one fist fight, the balding gunman would’ve been despatched very quickly by Brian and Will.

“He was a muppet who watched too many gangster films,” one associate told me. “He watched too many gangster movies and thought that’s the way you do things.”

Another said: “To me, he came across as a bit of a nerd.”

Eddie McIntosh said: “He did what he did not because he was being bullied. He did what he did because he wanted the money. I knew him before Brian did through business. He was one of those people you kept away from because he was manipulative and a liar.

“He was a coward. The fact he shot Brian in the back shows what kind of person he was. My mum is Irish, my dad Scottish. It’s a thing to have the open coffin in the house. Because of what he did, we couldn’t do that.”

Eddie added: “He has destroyed so many people, he has caused complete devastation. He has destroyed his own kids’ lives.

“Brian was a lovely guy, he was a great father. We did the boxing together, we sparred together. He was the best of the lot of us.”

I was present at a Villa Park, Birmingham, boxing show when they rang the 10 bell salute, a traditional honour for two men who had provided financial support for local amateur boxing clubs.

The night’s promoter, Tommy Owens, said: “Brian was a great lad, always the life and soul of the party. And he was a talented boxer, he moved more like a welterweight.”

There will never be accolades for Houseman whose crime shocked the country.

And today he will again consider the grinding monotony of the decades ahead.