The real-life racing rogues stranger than fiction

This week Netflix announced a new film starring John Boyega as a young Formula 1 prodigy forced by family circumstances to work as a getaway driver for the mob.

Some readers might consider this scenario implausible. Those of a sensitive disposition may be outraged at the very thought of organised crime having a connection with the world of motor racing.

But in fact a great number rogues, crooks and mountebanks have enjoyed eventful if not always ultimately profitable appearances within the racing firmament. Many of these stories make Netflix's storyline seem jejune in comparison.

In 1979, a year after acquiring the Road Atlanta circuit, American brothers Bill and Don Whittington won the Le Mans 24 Hours in a Kremer Porsche 935. Before the event, unimpressed with the amount of 'rental' seat time on offer, they bought the car for $200,000 in cash which they disbursed from a duffel bag.

A year later they competed in the Indy 500 in Penske PC-7s naked of sponsorship save for Sun System, supposedly a suntan lotion distributor based in Fort Lauderdale, the proprietor of which was one CW Cobb. But Sun System was merely a front company.

Clyde Walton Cobb, also known as 'Dollar Bill', was subsequently convicted of running a $300 million marijuana import operation with connections to Pablo Escobar. The investigation was codenamed 'Operation Sunburn'.

During the 1980s the Whittingtons dabbled in NASCAR, founded teams in IMSA and CART, and promoted races at Road Atlanta - on at least one occasion paying the promoter's fee to an IMSA official in cash. Races at this venue were lavish affairs; the Whittingtons often arrived individually in their matching P-51 Mustangs, which they would land on the back straight. It's understood this section of track was also used as a landing strip for planes carrying cocaine from Colombia.

When you're spending this amount of money with no obvious sponsorship income, particularly when the cars are paid for in cash, your racing rivals are naturally interested. Despite - or perhaps because of - being the subject of gossip in racing circles, the Whittingtons attracted like-minded individuals.

Lanier co-founded (with Bill Whittington) Blue Thunder Racing- thought to be a somewhat cocky nod to the Blue Thunder boats recently acquired by the US Customs Service in President Ronald Reagan's war against drugs

Randy Lanier was another south Florida racing driver with mysterious means who appeared virtually out of nowhere. Appearing on the radar at the 1980 SCCA national run-offs, he was competing at the sharp end of the US sportscar scene within a year, sharing a 935 with Dale Whittington (another of the brothers) in the 1981 season-ending Camel GT 250 at Daytona.

In 1984 Lanier co-founded (with Bill Whittington) Blue Thunder Racing - thought to be a somewhat cocky nod to the Blue Thunder boats recently acquired by the US Customs Service in President Ronald Reagan's war against drugs. Racing a March 84G without manufacturer support, the team contrived to win the championship against supposedly better-funded works opposition.

Law enforcement officials were also curious about these money-no-object racers and the investigative noose duly began to tighten. The Whittingtons were arrested in March 1986 and pleaded guilty to charges of money laundering, tax evasion and conspiracy to smuggle cocaine. Both served jail sentences.

Lanier qualified for that year's Indy 500 and finished 10th, earning Rookie of the Year honours, before he was arrested as part of an investigation into a Florida marijuana smuggling ring. He posted bail then fled, only to be arrested several months later by FBI agents while fishing off Antigua. Lanier was handed a life sentence without the option of parole but, as attitudes towards marijuana softened over the years, he was eventually released in 2014.

Perhaps closer to the plot of the forthcoming Netflix drama, in 1963 a young man arrived at the Motor Racing Developments workshop in Surbiton with a suitcase full of cash which he exchanged for a Brabham Formula Junior car. Roy James was a silversmith by profession, but he was already supplementing his income through burglary and by working as a getaway driver for one of England's most notorious criminal gangs.

On the road, James's preferred wheels were Jaguars and he had the mechanical skills to make his own go-faster modifications - as well as fitting a hand-operated brake light to confuse pursuers. In 1962 alone he was connected to crimes as diverse as a jewel heist in Monaco and a payroll heist at Heathrow airport.

The Brabham, later named the BT6, had only recently been given a victorious debut by Denny Hulme in the Boxing Day meeting at Brands Hatch. James was already successful in karting at European level and he took the next step with aplomb, though the oft-repeated claim that he won 17 out of 19 races in 1963 is difficult to verify since several of the events he is believed to have entered were fairly low-level and therefore poorly documented.

Certainly he won over 10 races against meaningful opposition, the likes of which included Mike Hailwood, Richard Attwood, Mike Spence, Peter Arundell, Peter Revson and David Prophet.

Mid-way through the weekend of 22 August, James abruptly disappeared from the paddock at Goodwood, where he was competing on the Tourist Trophy support bill. A popular but unlikely story in racing folklore is that he was tipped off via his pit board that the police were about to arrive.

Two weeks earlier James had been the getaway driver for what became known as the Great Train Robbery. The crime achieved notoriety not just for the amount involved - £2.5million in used bank notes destined for destruction - but for its brutality. The train crew, driver Jack Mills and secondman David Whitby, were coshed and never recovered from their injuries.

Hiding out at a secluded farm, the gang played Monopoly with real cash from the robbery. But they failed to clean up properly after they left, leaving fingerprints on the Monopoly board as well as various items of crockery, including a dish James had used to give milk to the farm cat.

Police then raided the farm after being tipped off by a neighbour - whose son, Tim Holloway (below) would later become a successful engineer in IndyCar and Formula 1. Holloway's career included race-engineering Ivan Capelli at March and Leyton House and co-designing the race-winning Jordan 198 and 199.

On the run until December, James was eventually caught after a rooftop chase in a London suburb and sentenced to 30 years for armed robbery. When James was released in 1975 the racing community rallied round him; he had been a popular figure on the scene, and there was an abiding feeling that the sentence was somehow disproportionate to his role in the crime - that perhaps the Crown had made an example of him after other, more high-profile members of the gang evaded the law's grasp.

Although James tried to return to motor racing, the people to whom he had entrusted his money had vanished like April snow

Bernie Ecclestone was one such benefactor, commissioning James to create trophies for the F1 constructors' champions as well as the annual race promoter's award. In subsequent years this would lead to Ecclestone being associated with the robbery through innuendo, claims he has always denied.

Although James tried to return to motor racing, the people to whom he had entrusted his money had vanished like April snow. He entered the British Formula Ford championship in 1976 but his most notable achievement was to take out Nigel Mansell and James Weaver in a shunt on the opening lap at Mallory Park.

A crash while testing a Formula Atlantic car ended his racing career and in 1993 he found himself at Her Majesty's Pleasure once again after shooting his estranged father-in-law in a dispute over unpaid alimony payments. He had also been tried, but acquitted, of importing gold without paying tax - a popular scam in the 1980s as the proceeds of the Brink's-Mat robbery percolated through the markets.

Would James have made it to F1 had he not spent much of the prime of his life behind bars? It's possible, though his crash testing the Formula Atlantic car suggests another step upwards in power took him out of his comfort zone.

Unlike fiction, real life doesn't always deliver a satisfyingly happy third act.