Lordship Lane is a road that plods from east to west across north London, past shops and pubs, terrace houses and small blocks of flats: an unremarkable, slightly humdrum thoroughfare. Today, at one end of the road, in the shadow of the cranes raising Tottenham Hotspur’s new £800m glass and steel stadium, is a shrine to Kwabena Nelson, a 22-year-old who was known to his friends as Kobi.

Young perpetrators of knife crime are victims too | Anonymous Read more

Lined up against railings are photographs of Kobi, bunches of flowers, empty bottles of cherry wine and candles. A white bed sheet scrawled with messages – “fly boy Kobi we love you” – is tied to the railings along with a pair of blue and gold striped school ties.

A few hundred metres away, alongside a wall at the side of the Washeteria Laundromat, is a second, almost identical shrine, this one to Tanesha Melbourne-Blake, a 17-year-old girl. There are the same flowers, candles, empty bottles and messages – “we love you to the moon and back” – and a handful of pink and red balloons.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Kwabena Nelson was stabbed to death near his home. Photograph: Metropolitan police/Twitter

At the other end of Lordship Lane, outside the Vue cinema in Wood Green, is yet another shrine, to Kelvin Odunuyi, 19, known as Lampz. Again, there are the flowers, the bottles and candles, the handwritten messages: “Rest up brother.”

The road is only 2 miles long. You can walk it in half an hour. A couple of teenagers on a scooter can travel its length in five minutes.

Some of the young men and boys living at either end are locked in an increasingly vicious gang war, one that may have cost lives and has resulted in countless stabbings and beatings. It is a fight that is both fuelled and coordinated by social media, as the antagonists struggle to protect their reputations, and those of their friends and neighbourhoods. In a way that is bewildering to outsiders, their conflict is focused on the postcodes in which they live, N17 in Tottenham and N22 in Wood Green, as they attempt to control the one place to which they can lay claim: the streets. The dispute has simmered for years, possibly originating in turf wars over the drug economy.

It is not known whether the Nelson case was part of the feud, A 20-year-old from Wood Green has been charged with his murder.

Odunuyi had appeared in a number of well-produced videos, posted on YouTube, in which he and his friends rapped about stabbing and shooting their “ops” – opponents – from outside “the Wood”.

For their part, members of the gang centred on the Northumberland Park estate in Tottenham, calling themselves the NPK – the Northumberland Park Killers, have also posted videos that suggest an obsession with stabbing and shooting.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Tributes to Kelvin Odunuyi outside the Vue cinema in Wood Green. Photograph: Martin Godwin/The Guardian

On 8 March, Odunuyi was watching a film at the Vue cinema. According to his friends, either he or somebody who was with him posted a message on social media that betrayed his whereabouts.

Social media related to violence by young people, say experts Read more

As he walked towards the exit a scooter mounted the pavement outside and a masked gunman opened fire through a window. Odunuyi tried to run but the gunman fired again, with one round passing through the door frame and hitting him in the head.

Later that day, youths thought to be from Wood Green attacked and stabbed a student during a brawl outside Haringey sixth form college in Tottenham.

At the end of the month, a group of boys from Northumberland Park filmed themselves attacking and robbing a man from Wood Green at a restaurant in central London, after accusing him of “dissing” Nelson. The film was posted online.

Two days later, Melbourne-Blake and a group of friends were chatting in the street on the edge of the Northumberland Park estate. A car drove slowly by, and an occupant opened fire, killing the trainee hairdresser.

Since then, Northumberland Park has become deserted, as many young people stay indoors. “You can really feel the tension, can’t you?” said one young man. “It was bad enough being from here – tell people your postcode is N17 and you can’t get a job, you can’t get a loan – but now it’s going to get even worse. People will think we’re all gangsters and drug dealers.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Tanesha Melbourne-Blake died after being shot in Chalgrove Road, Tottenham. Photograph: Met police/EPA

At the shrine to Melbourne-Blake, a middle-aged man appeared with his teenage son. “That’s what I wanted you to see,” he said, pointing at the wreaths. “That could have been you if you’d been standing there. You’re going to stay off the street, yeah?” The boy nodded.

At the other end of Lordship Lane, boys hanging around outside the McDonald’s next to the Vue cinema were visibly nervous. They spoke of gang members from N17 jumping out of a car and chasing youths while wielding samurai swords, and of a car mounting the pavement and driving at people.

“Anything could happen at any time,” said one. “Anyone can get it now, anyone. Anyone could get shot up any time, that’s the mentality now. All people have to do is go into the kitchen and get a knife, it’s so easy. I’ve given myself a seven o’clock curfew.” A couple of teenage girls walking past shouted over. “Go home,” they said.



There was grumbling about how the Sun had offered a £50,000 reward for information leading to the conviction of Melbourne-Blake’s killer, but not done the same for Odunuyi. “That’s dissin’ Lampz.”

They spoke of the gang war with an argot that was rich and complex. One, a 17-year-old, identified himself as SJ. “I’m not going to give you my government [real name].” He and his friends talked of “G-checking” strangers, to find out where they were from, of “Sids” – plain clothes police – stopping and searching them; of “civilians” – non-gang members – not being in danger.

Behind the bluster, however, was real fear. A young man they had not seen before rode his bike along the pavement, and they all stiffened. “Who’s that?”

Time and again, their eyes were drawn to the small steel panel riveted over the bullet hole on the frame of the cinema door, and then to the carpet beyond, where there is a long, dark stain.

“It is what it is,” said one. “I guess life goes on, innit?”