Sicarius McGrath pauses to consider the carnage he was planning to unleash. “I still get flashbacks,” he says slowly, “when I walk past pubs and bars I think I could have been in there, you know, committing mass murder.”

A deliberate and strategic criminal for many years, the Liverpudlian’s claim that he was preparing the most deadly gun attack in British history should be taken seriously. Back in the late 2000s, McGrath, who was at that time one of the most notorious illegal firearms dealers in North West England, had converted in prison to the most radical form of Islam.

As he prepared to become a mass shooter, McGrath contacted a senior figure within the extremist movement and, he claims, had they provided the encouragement or support he needed, he would have carried out an atrocity.

Although the radical figure remained silent McGrath still came to the brink of a gun attack in Liverpool. Released from prison and facing a torrent of Islamaphobic abuse from the Far Right criminal fraternity he hit breaking point

“I was in an area of north Liverpool where it was quite racist,” he explains. “I put my [Muslim religious] gown on specifically to conceal two handguns in me waistband. I thought if anyone pulls up and says anything now I’ll f*****g blast them.”

Fortunately, nobody tested McGrath’s resolve that day and over time he found himself drawn back into the city’s gang warfare.

“It was gangs that saved me from doing it,” he explains touching his chin. “I got embroiled in [the conflicts] and robbing drug dealers.”

The former arms dealer had asked me before stepping into the studio to record this interview for the Express’s groundbreaking podcast On The Edge whether anything was off limits in terms of discussion.

My response was the same as it has been for every guest who appears on the show; nothing is too taboo for us to discuss because, unlike traditional forms of media, the format is designed for raw, unfiltered interviews the audience can watch and judge for themselves.

When headlines scream about terrorists committing murder or vulnerable people being failed by the system we rarely take the time to go deep into the reasons why. But, using powerful human stories, On The Edge offers new insight into long-standing problems Britain has failed to address.

From the battles faced by victims of abuse to life escaping the tentacles of organised crime, these tales expose both the cost and the causes behind the news that shocks our nation.

This series will feature a survivor of one of the worst sex abuse scandals in modern history, who will reveal details of national significance. Her story reveals a series of horrifying missed opportunities and demonstrates the long-term effects of perverted manipulation.

In another episode, a sister lays bare the shocking failures around the death of her brother – a vulnerable man with autism and learning difficulties. Since his body was pulled from the River Thames with weights tied to his hands the family has become increasingly convinced he was murdered. A suspicion that grew stronger after evidence was uncovered suggesting financial exploitation.

The series also features more shocking tales about the extent to which gangsters have corrupted powerful people in one of the UK’s most well-known cities and insight into the world of football hooliganism, an issue that has reared its head in post-lockdown Britain once again.

So, McGrath, like many others this season, decided to use his appearance to confess a past intention that still haunts his conscience.

As our conversation progresses the Scouser also reveals what motivated him to pick up a gun in the first place.

“As a result of getting bullied I resorted to firearms,” he tells me. “I just had enough one day and I thought f*** this. So I’ve went south, bought a load of guns and come back to Liverpool.

“For some little skinny kid who can’t fight I needed some form of protection [and] when you’re carrying a gun it just gives you a lot of confidence.”

So much confidence that McGrath went from a boy who was scared to leave the house to a thug capable of thrusting the barrel of a revolver into a drug dealer’s mouth as he demanded their Rolex.

“I’ve always hated drug dealers because of the drug abuse I’ve seen as a kid,” he adds. “Once I started using firearms I had the means to target them.

“When I mixed with Muslim gangs I found one thing we had in common was the hatred of dealers. When I was robbing and extorting [them] and I’d bring in outsiders [who were often members of Muslim gangs].”

When pressed on this twisted moral justification McGrath admitted the logic was flawed.

“It was for financial gain,” he says, “and was a bit hypocritical because if we stole drugs we sold them.”

Sicarius McGrath’s tale of guns, extremism and gang warfare is the first of five episodes featured in the Express podcast On The Edge.

Each episode is released on Monday at 4pm on the Express’s YouTube page. You can subscribe to the audio version on Apple, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Liverpool has been blighted by crime for generations. Guns are regularly the weapon of choice in the never-ending battles between the city’s gangs.

The violence now is as bad as it’s ever been. In June, a teenager was shot dead on an industrial estate and, this month, the trial began against four suspects accused of assisting an offender in connection to the murder of 26-year-old beautician, Elle Edwards, who was gunned down outside a pub in 2022.

Edwards’ death came shortly after the nation was shocked by the killing of Olivia Pratt-Korbel, 9, who was hit by a stray bullet which ripped through her mother’s hand. The murder happened when the little girl’s mother opened her door at the sound of commotion on her street only to discover a balaclava-clad man being pursued by a rival gangster.

Firearms might have boosted McGrath’s confidence but they didn’t give him peace. As he slipped deeper into gangland battles he found himself plagued by anxiety.

“I used to sleep by police stations. My belief was that I wouldn’t get shot there. You’re at your most vulnerable when you’re asleep, so I’d lay down in my car by a police station or magistrates’ court,” he recalls.

It was during one such doze in the centre of Liverpool that McGrath encountered another problem a life of crime inevitably brings; the police wanting to lock you up.

He was arrested for murder and, in what was an ever more common trend, McGrath learned the person helping law enforcement was a fellow outlaw willing to break the age-old code prohibiting cooperation.

“By 2010 the vast majority of drug dealers were calling police. We was in the police station at least once a week for extorting or robbing drug dealers,” he says. “Most of the time we were arrested for kidnaps.”

A man bleeding to death in the back of an ambulance gave McGrath’s name to police as one of three culprits who stabbed him, and he had the finger pointed at him for shootings and an arson attack.

“These people were making statements, trying to get me charged for stuff I haven’t done. It was another way of getting you off the street. It’s either kill or use the police,” he adds.

However, there were occasions, McGrath says, when turf wars got so bad gangs sought to negotiate a settlement and reduce the violence. He found, as the resident gun dealer, he was called in as the arbiter of disputes.

“They’d bring us on board because they wanted to be able to sell drugs in their area without this b******t drama,” he explains.

“You’ve got to give everyone something out of the deal otherwise they’re going to feel hard done by.”

His main trade throughout all of this was gun dealing. He found he had a natural ability to assemble firearms or bring deactivated weapons into use.

To justify putting such deadly tools in the hands of criminals he followed idiosyncratic logic and principles.

“I preferred to arm people outside of Liverpool because I didn’t really want the gun to be used on me,” he explains.

“We’d make the bullet and if we didn’t like the person we’d overload it with powder so it would jam and blow them to bits.

“[… and] if someone told me they was going to kill someone with it, well, I wouldn’t sell it to them because I wouldn’t want to get sucked into that rigmarole.”

It was sitting in prison watching a documentary about the murder of Rhys Jones, an 11-year-old boy killed in Liverpool gang war crossfire, that the system he’d trusted fell to pieces.

“That made me change my mind. [I realised] that could have been me with the amount of houses we shot up. One of my bullets could have went through a window and killed an innocent kid and I couldn’t live with myself for that.”

McGrath also began to recognise that his careful selection of who to arm meant almost nothing the moment the weapon left his possession. Guns circulate and whether he’d sold it to a gang in Birmingham rather than an eager murderer in Liverpool the chances of it doing an innocent victim serious damage remained equally as strong.

Since turning his back on crime McGrath has made it his mission to try and stop kids from falling into the traps he did. He believes that by explaining what attracted him to guns and terrorism he might be able to help others tempted to risk their lives by becoming involved.