Jacob Dunne loved getting into fights. Every weekend he and his friends would go into Nottingham city centre to start a ruck. One night in the summer of 2011, the 19-year-old threw a single punch. He immediately sensed it was different. There was no resistance, and the victim swayed back. “I knew something bad had happened as soon as I hit him,” he says today. Dunne didn’t hang around. Without a word to his friends, he fled the scene.
A month passed and he began to forget about the incident. If something terrible had happened, he would have heard. But then friends who were out with him that night got in touch. They had been questioned about it. It was inevitable his turn would come. In fact, the finger was already being pointed at him. He discovered that one of his friends had given the police his name.
