Paul Ferris, Glasgow's most infamous gangland enforcer turned bestselling author, dies at 62

Paul Ferris, a one-time enforcer in Glasgow's criminal underworld whose life of violence, courtroom drama and eventual reinvention as a bestselling author made him one of Scotland's most recognisable figures, has died at the age of 62.

Ferris is understood to have passed away on Tuesday evening at the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow following a short illness. News of his death was confirmed by photographer Brian Anderson, a long-time friend, who announced it on his Naked City Facebook page.

Anderson described Ferris as a best-selling author and a "former notorious criminal", adding that the news would come as a shock to the many people who had known him across the very different chapters of his life. He later told BBC Scotland News that the pair had struck up an unlikely friendship that endured for a quarter of a century, describing Ferris as polite, funny and kind.

That warmth may surprise those who know Ferris only by reputation. For much of the 1990s and early 2000s, his name was synonymous with organised crime in Scotland's largest city, and his life story reads like a screenplay drawn from the darker corners of Glasgow's housing schemes.

Ferris first became a household name through his involvement with the notorious Thompson crime family, who dominated much of the city's criminal landscape. When Arthur Thompson Jnr, the son of crime boss Arthur Thompson, was shot dead outside the family home in Blackhill in August 1991, attention quickly turned to Ferris.

He was arrested and put on trial for the killing, proceedings that began in 1992 and would become one of the defining criminal cases in Scottish legal history. At the time, it was described as the longest and most expensive trial the country had ever seen, lasting 54 days and featuring evidence from more than 300 witnesses at an estimated cost of £4m.

The prosecution's case rested heavily on the testimony of Dennis Woodman, a fellow inmate who claimed Ferris had confessed to the murder while the two men were being held at Barlinnie Prison. Defence lawyers attacked the credibility of that evidence, arguing that the case assembled against their client was fundamentally flawed.

After the jury had deliberated for more than 24 hours, Ferris was cleared of murder and every other charge he faced. No one has ever been convicted of Arthur Thompson Jnr's killing, and the case remains one of Scotland's most enduring unsolved crimes.

Despite his acquittal, Ferris's freedom did not last. In 1998 he was jailed for seven years after being convicted in connection with a gun-running operation. It was a period behind bars that would ultimately help reshape his public image rather than cement it as purely criminal.

On his release, Ferris embarked on a career as a writer, collaborating with the author Reg McKay, who died in 2011. Their first book, The Ferris Conspiracy, was published in 2001 and offered readers an insider's account of Glasgow's underworld, blending memoir with a fierce critique of the police and prosecution case he had faced.

Further titles followed, and the partnership proved commercially successful, turning Ferris into a genuine bestseller and a familiar face on the Scottish literary and media circuit. His story reached an even wider audience in 2013 when The Ferris Conspiracy was adapted into the film The Wee Man, with Line of Duty star Martin Compston taking on the role of Ferris.

The transition from feared enforcer to published author was an unusual one, but not unique among former criminals seeking to capitalise on their notoriety. What set Ferris apart, according to those who knew him, was the extent to which he committed to the new identity, remaining a visible and approachable figure around Glasgow long after his criminal days had ended.

His death has prompted tributes from across Scotland, with friends and observers reflecting on a life that touched the worlds of crime, justice, publishing and film. For Anderson and others, the man behind the headlines was far more complex than the caricature often presented.

Ferris leaves behind a contested legacy. To some he remains a symbol of Glasgow's violent past; to others he was the beneficiary of a deeply flawed prosecution, a man who rebuilt his life in the public eye and entertained millions with his version of events. Either way, his passing closes a significant chapter in the story of Scottish organised crime.