The other Wolverhampton-born Billy Wright, a Loyalist paramilitary gunned down in prison

A man far removed from the Old Gold legend whose magic lit up Molineux, who become a national treasure on the terraces.

Look closely at the other Billy Wright, the cold eyes, pursed lips framed by Pancho moustache, his stare cold and intimidating.

This Billy Wright made his name through fear, not football, a man whose role as conductor of violence during Northern Ireland’s Troubles earned him the title “King Rat”. He also, allegedly, raked-in cash through drug deals and protection rackets.

Yes, one of the mayhem’s major players was from the Black Country, born in Wolverhampton.

One Billy Wright was a saint, the other a sinner – and he looked the part. He was 6ft tall, muscular, heavily tattooed and with close-cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

The Loyalist paramilitary Mr Big lived up to his King Rat moniker until rubbed out by Republican hitmen inside notorious Maze Prison.

Such was Wright’s ruthlessness, some of his own Unionist colleagues called him “Billy Wrong”. Behind his back, of course.

This Billy Wright was linked by police to 20 sectarian killings – though never convicted of murder – before being shot as he sat in a van on H Block 6 forecourt. On a cold December morning in 1997, two smuggled pistols ended the reign of a 37-year-old who founded the ruthless Loyalist Volunteer Force.

In the years that followed the other Billy Wright’s death, two questions have been asked loudly and repeatedly:

* Was he in cahoots with the Royal Ulster Constabulary’s special branch? More specifically, did Wright become an informer and, in return, did special branch provide information on IRA suspects, protection and alibis.

* Did the authorities – believing Wright, considered a maverick by the Loyalist hierarchy, posed a threat to the fledgling peace process – collude in his assassination? An enquiry into the killing uncovered major Maze security flaws, but no evidence of state involvement.

The government has refused to dub Northern Ireland’s conflict a war, but it was, to all intent and purpose, an extremely dirty war.

And a man born in the West Midlands was knee deep in the blood, mud and murderous conspiracies. A Black Country man who was a complex mess of contradictions, attempting – and failing – to balance his terrorist beliefs with his love of God. He even spread the Bible’s message as a Protestant fundamentalist preacher.

“I would hope that He would allow me to come back,” Wright once said. “I'm not walking with God. Without getting into doctrine, without getting too deep, it is possible to have walked with God and to fall away and still belong to God.”

For him, it could only be war without end and it could not be a holy war. There could never be a truce with Republican paramilitaries. Others grew a conscience; Wright had no regrets.

As Ulster Freedom Fighter John Adair recalled: “He was just 24/7 hours at trying to bring the Republicans on their knees. And that was what most of his life revolved around.”