How I was hoodwinked by child sex offender and Premier League referee David Coote... and the troubling stories he shared over coffee

I had many questions for David Coote. Why did a once respected referee, seemingly at the top of his game, see fit to film himself snorting a white powder with a US bank note in a hotel room while on duty at last summer’s European Championship?

Why did he think a video of him describing Jurgen Klopp as an ‘absolute c***’, clearly taken in drink, had been leaked? What did he think was going to happen next? Did he want to referee again? Did he think there was any way back? 

This was in late January of this year, shortly after Coote had given an interview in which he had come out as gay and said that hiding his sexuality, among other issues, had triggered his outlandish behaviour. But it still felt as though there was more to be said, a story to be told.

Had I known at the time that Coote would soon be hauled into a courtroom for child sex offences, I may have thought twice about meeting him.

But I didn’t know that yet.

I managed to get a number from a contact and asked Coote if he would like to meet for a coffee. No pressure, just a chat and an attempt to build an understanding of what was going on in his life. 

If I am honest, I felt some sympathy for how the situation had played out. While Coote had obviously made some poor decisions, it appeared as though someone was out to get him, and make a few quid in the process by flogging stories to the tabloids.

I was shocked when he agreed to meet over a coffee in the bar of the Hilton Hotel, just off the M1 at East Midlands Airport, which was convenient for Coote as he was heading south from his Newark home to see family.

I arrived first and tried to find a discreet corner for our chat, which was difficult. The bar is vast and has a number of booths ideal for privacy, but for some reason on this winter Thursday afternoon they were all taken. I opted for a table against the back wall, messaged Coote to tell him where I was sitting and asked if he wanted a drink. ‘Flat white would be great! Thanks!’ came the response.

Coote arrived shortly after and I stood to shake his hand. He is tall and slim but appeared to be on edge. At around 6ft and with distinctive sharp features, Coote stood out from the busy hotel crowd. None of the other customers appeared to recognise a man who recently had been on both the front and back pages.

It wasn't the most original of opening questions, but I asked how he was getting on. 'I've been better,' was the understated reply. 

Not long into our conversation, Coote was pretty direct: What did I want? he asked. I told him that in an ideal world I would like to do an interview. Coote said he ‘just couldn’t’ at the moment but agreed to keep in touch. He added that it wasn't possible to go into how everything had played out, but made it sound as though he had had little choice in the matter. 

At the time I wondered why that might have been. Perhaps now, months on, it was because of what was coming down the line. That Coote was to be accused of - and plead quilty to - having images of sex abuse of children.

I asked if he thought that he might be able to return to refs’ body PGMO in some capacity, given that his experience – hurled into the centre of a media storm – may be of use to other referees as part of their development. He replied that it would be unlikely as a referee, but that he had not given up hope of returning as a coach or a mentor. 

He did make a pitch, of sorts, suggesting that at some point he might be able to help the Daily Mail in some shape or form, perhaps as someone who could describe the controversial refereeing decisions that arrive with regularity every weekend.

Coote then opened up about his childhood, and the difficulties he had faced with his sexuality. He explained he had come from a sports-mad family (his father had made an appearance for Nottinghamshire Cricket Club) and that the unforgiving and at-time claustrophobic environment of a village cricket dressing room, to which he was introduced from an early age, had not helped him.

There was little emotion, only a matter-of-fact delivery as he relayed what was clearly a vivid memory of a boorish team-mate stating loudly one Saturday that he had read that ‘one in 10 people are gay’ and then, glancing around the room, adding accusatorily that the stat ‘means there must be one of “them” in here’. The inference was clear – how does a youngster step forward in that situation? What would have been the reaction if he’d said ‘Well, actually…’?

Coote seemed fragile, nervy and broken by his experience. I remember thinking that he had not killed anyone, and that it would be good to see him rehabilitated and given a second chance. Everyone makes mistakes, and 43 is no age to say goodbye to a career a lifetime in the making. I messaged the boss to tell him about the meeting and to relay those thoughts. In reality, I was describing a man who would, within half a year, be arrested and charged with making an indecent video of a child. It was not one of my finest judgment calls.

We said our goodbyes and, a few hours later, I messaged Coote to thank him for his time. He again reiterated that, if he could be of any help, to reach out.

Fast forward to August 14, ahead of the new season, when I was among a number of journalists invited to Premier League HQ in Paddington for a briefing with referees' boss Howard Webb. Webb is impressive. He carries an air of common sense and, unlike others in positions of authority, does not talk in riddles. With the February meeting still on my mind, I asked him whether he could envisage a return for Coote, who had been sacked following his comments about Klopp.

‘I think it’d be really difficult for David to come back, I’m afraid to say,’ was Webb’s response. ‘He is somebody that we stay in contact with, somebody who was part of our refereeing family for a long time and served the game as well for a long period of time and I've known him personally for many years. So it's sad what happened with David, but I would think it would be a challenging thing for him to come back.’ 

Unbeknown to the reporters, two days earlier Coote had been arrested on suspicion of making an indecent image of a child. He was subsequently charged with the offence, which involved a Category A video. Category A is the most serious classification and includes penetration.

The next time I saw Coote was at Nottingham Magistrates Court on September 11, the day after news of his alleged offence had broken.

He was in front of me in the queue as we entered court. There was no eye contact as he placed his items into a tray and was patted down by security staff. With his solicitor at his side, and dressed in a navy suit, he was whisked into a conference room while the press in the gathered in the corridor waiting for the hearing to begin. 

In a tiny courtroom, with standing room only for onlookers, harrowing details emerged. The Crown Prosecution said that a third party, brought in to examine Coote’s mobile phones as part of an FA investigation, had raised concerns to police that two conversations found on the devices ‘appeared to indicate Mr Coote had a sexual interest in children’. Coote was subsequently arrested at home and a PGMO-registered Dell laptop was seized. 

A Category A video, featuring a moving image of a child aged 15, was found. The charge of ‘making’ relates to acts such as downloading, sharing and saving material. Coote pleaded not guilty. Before he entered the dock he appeared to be shaking - the realisation of what he had done weighing on him. He was released on conditional bail and ordered not to have unsupervised contact with anyone under 18 or to share a house with anyone of that age.

Earlier this month it was back to Nottingham, this time to the crown court. As I headed back down the M1, my mind kept drifting back to that meeting and how, for an hour, Coote had almost come across as a victim. Would he do so in front of a jury, should he get the chance? We would not find out. 

Coote, again dressed in a navy suit and clutching a small transparent bag, stood in the dock alongside a security guard in a windowless room and pleaded guilty. There would be no trial. That one word, as if it were needed, provided confirmation that I had been hoodwinked over a flat white and Americano.

I had been told the story of a man who had struggled with his sexuality, and with coming out in an unsupportive environment. But I had in fact been talking to a deviant.

Coote will not be sentenced until December 11, but the man who shuffled into the Hilton that afternoon has now been convicted for child sex offences and is subject to the terms of the Sex Offender’s Register. How long that will be for will depend on his sentence. At the moment, a pre-sentence report is being carried out. The judge warned him a custodial sentence could follow. The maximum term is 10 years, although experts believe such a penalty is unlikely.

Of course, none of this was spoken about during our coffee - when he was still six months away from that knock on the door. But the offence had taken place in 2020 and so, unbeknown to me, the person I was sitting opposite, nursing his flat white, was a sex offender.

There is no sympathy from me now, but questions remain.

Did he have any idea of what was coming when he met me? And why did he agree to our chat over coffee? Was there some kind of buzz from the attention? Was he naive or simply being polite? Why would you meet a journalist when you were months from arrest?

In 2008, early in my career as a news reporter at the Manchester Evening News, I was asked to cover the court case of a paedophile Catholic priest who had occasionally taught my class at secondary school in the city in the 1990s. Father William Green admitted 27 assaults on children who were aged between eight and 16 and was jailed for six years. 

As I looked at Green behind glass in the dock from the press benches I asked myself if there had been any suggestion that this chubby, friendly man of the cloth was actually a monster? The answer was that there had not. There are certain types of people who tend to hide in plain sight.

In Coote’s case it was in front of millions every weekend rather than a classroom of Mancunian schoolkids.