Notorious Criminal Slams Trolls After Armed Police Storm Hospital as He Held Newborn Babies
In a heart-wrenching ordeal that has ignited outrage across social media and beyond, Sam Walker, a 42-year-old TikTok influencer with a notorious criminal past, found himself at the center of a terrifying police raid just days after welcoming his twin daughters into the world. What should have been a joyous family milestone at Arrowe Park Hospital in Wirral, Merseyside, descended into chaos when armed officers stormed the maternity ward, guns drawn, based on a malicious hoax call from online trolls. Walker, cradling his two-day-old babies in his arms, was arrested on suspicion of firearm possession, an incident he now describes as “the lowest of the low.”
The drama unfolded on Sunday, August 17, 2025, around 4 p.m., in the quiet sanctuary of the hospital’s maternity unit. Walker, formerly of Liverpool, had been by his partner’s side throughout the birth of their identical twin girls—a moment he later called “the happiest of my life.” The newborns, fragile and swaddled, represented a fresh start for a man whose life had been marred by over 130 criminal convictions spanning decades. From drug-related offenses to violent confrontations, Walker’s rap sheet reads like a gritty chronicle of Liverpool’s underworld. He has clashed publicly with figures like former gangster Stephen French, turning personal vendettas into viral spectacles on platforms like TikTok, where he boasts 139,000 followers drawn to his unfiltered tales of redemption, bravado, and street wisdom.
But on that fateful afternoon, the digital shadows of his online persona caught up with him in the most invasive way imaginable. Unbeknownst to Walker, a group of anonymous “trolls and clout chasers”—as he derisively labels them—had been monitoring his social media updates. Knowing he was at the hospital, they placed a hoax call to staff, spinning a web of lies that painted Walker as an imminent threat. “They told the hospital I had firearms and there was going to be a shootout,” Walker recounted in a raw, emotional interview with the Liverpool Echo. “They told the police I was armed and dangerous.”
The call triggered an immediate, high-stakes response from Merseyside Police. Within minutes, a team of armed officers, equipped with submachine guns and tactical gear, breached the ward. Hospital corridors, typically filled with the soft coos of newborns and exhausted smiles of new parents, echoed with urgent shouts and the clatter of heavy boots. Visitors and staff were ushered aside as the officers zeroed in on Walker’s room, their weapons trained ahead in a protocol-driven sweep for potential danger.
Walker, still basking in the glow of fatherhood, was caught completely off guard. “When they came in, I had hold of my two little babies in my arms. They were only two days old,” he said, his voice cracking with the memory. The sight of armed figures bursting through the door, barrels pointed directly at his head, shattered the idyll. “They came running into the room with guns pointing at my head.” In a split-second decision, the officers instructed him to relinquish the infants to their mother. “They asked me to go with them, so I gave the babies back to their mum. I ran out and they said, ‘We’ve had information you’re carrying firearms.’ And I just broke down.”
Tears streaming down his face, Walker complied without resistance, his world upended in an instant. Handcuffed and led away from the room where his family lay vulnerable, he was bundled into a police van and transported to a nearby station. There, he spent a grueling four hours in a holding cell, subjected to searches and questioning. No firearm was found—there never had been one. The arrest, it turned out, was built on the flimsiest of foundations: a fabricated tip designed not to protect, but to harass.
Merseyside Police confirmed the incident in a terse statement that evening: “A man has been arrested at Arrowe Park Hospital today, Sunday, August 17. The 42-year-old man, formerly of Liverpool, was arrested on suspicion of possession of a firearm.” At the time, the force treated the report with the gravity it demanded, prioritizing public safety in a region all too familiar with gun crime. Enquiries were launched immediately, including efforts to trace the hoax call’s origin. Hospital visitors were briefly restricted, but officials emphasized there was “no risk to the public” once the scene was secured.
Walker wasted no time in broadcasting his side of the story. From his phone, mere hours after release, he uploaded a series of TikTok videos that quickly amassed millions of views. In one, filmed in the dim light of the police station waiting area, he seethed: “These trolls had armed police charging into the hospital pointing submachine guns at my head, coming straight into the room pointing them at my head.” His followers, a mix of loyal supporters and curious onlookers, flooded the comments with messages of sympathy and fury. “The police were only doing their job based on what they were told,” he conceded, ever the pragmatist. “But now the police need to find out who made that call. They need to be in prison.”
As the days turned to weeks, the incident festered in Walker’s mind. He posted relentlessly, blending vulnerability with his signature defiance. “So many lies from people wanting views off the back of my name. Trolls have stooped to a new low,” he vented in an early clip, his Liverpool accent thick with disdain. The videos captured a man wrestling with betrayal—not just from faceless harassers, but from a system that, in his view, amplified their cruelty. “Ringing a hospital where there’s a bunch of innocent women and men with newborn babies, making lies up saying there’s a firearm there, is as low as it gets,” he declared. “Trolls and clout chasers are as low as it gets. To make lies up to get at me is as low as it gets when it affects innocent mums and dads with new babies.”
Walker’s background adds layers of complexity to the saga. Born and raised in the tough neighborhoods of north Liverpool, he first tangled with the law as a teenager, accruing convictions for everything from theft and burglary to more serious assaults. By his 20s, he was entrenched in the city’s drug trade, a world he later chronicled in tell-all videos that blurred the line between confession and cautionary tale. His beefs with underworld elders like Stephen French—once Liverpool’s self-proclaimed “top boy”—escalated into public feuds, with Walker accusing French of extortion and French dismissing him as a “wannabe.” These clashes, amplified by social media, turned Walker into a polarizing figure: a villain to some, a survivor to others.
Yet, beneath the bravado, glimmers of change have emerged. In recent years, Walker pivoted to content creation, amassing a following by sharing fitness routines, family vlogs, and motivational monologues about breaking cycles of crime. The birth of his twins was meant to symbolize that evolution—a clean slate etched in tiny fingerprints. Instead, it became a stark reminder of how the internet’s underbelly can weaponize the past against the present.
Public reaction has been swift and divided. On TikTok and X (formerly Twitter), #JusticeForSam trended briefly, with users decrying the “cyberbullying epidemic” that endangers real lives. Women’s rights advocates highlighted the trauma inflicted on new mothers and infants, calling for stricter penalties for hoax calls. “This isn’t just about one man; it’s about the ripple effect on vulnerable families,” tweeted local MP Jane Lawson. Conversely, Walker’s critics—many anonymous accounts with grudges tied to his criminal history—mocked the incident as “karma’s swift kick,” though such voices have been drowned out by broader condemnation.
Merseyside Police’s investigation dragged on for over a month, with Walker initially released “under investigation.” Early statements were cautious: “Enquiries remain ongoing into what happened,” a spokesperson told reporters on August 20. The force probed phone records, CCTV footage, and digital footprints, determined to unmask the perpetrators. Hoax calls aren’t new—UK police receive thousands annually, wasting resources and sowing fear—but this one struck at the heart of a community asset. Arrowe Park Hospital, a bustling NHS facility serving Wirral’s 330,000 residents, had never seen such a dramatic intervention in its maternity wing.
By mid-September, closure came. On September 19, Merseyside Police issued an update: “We can confirm that no further action will be taken following a comprehensive investigation into this incident. The man arrested has been updated of the outcome.” No firearm, no threat—just a cruel prank exposed. Walker, informed directly, exhaled in relief but not absolution. “It’s over for me, but what about the next family?” he posted, urging lawmakers to criminalize online swatting with harsher sentences.
In the weeks since, Walker has doubled down on fatherhood, sharing sanitized glimpses of twin life—tiny socks, midnight feeds, and his own tattooed arms gently rocking cribs. His content has softened, laced with pleas for privacy and positivity. “These girls deserve better than their dad’s drama,” he admitted in a recent live stream. Yet, the scars linger. The raid didn’t just disrupt a day; it invaded a sanctuary, forcing a hardened man to confront his fragility.
Experts weigh in on the broader implications. Dr. Elena Hargrove, a cyberpsychologist at the University of Liverpool, calls it a “textbook case of digital vigilantism.” “Trolls thrive on virality, but when it escalates to real-world harm, we’re dealing with terrorism lite,” she says. UK laws already punish false reports under the Malicious Communications Act, with up to six months’ jail time, but enforcement lags behind the anonymity of apps. Calls for reform grow louder, with petitions circulating for mandatory tracing of hoax calls to emergency services.
As autumn settles over Merseyside, Sam Walker’s story serves as a cautionary flashpoint. For a man who’s stared down gangsters and judges, the true villains proved to be keyboard warriors. In reclaiming his narrative, he’s not just slamming trolls—he’s shielding his daughters from the shadows that once defined him. Whether this marks a turning point or just another chapter in his turbulent life remains to be seen. One thing is certain: in the coliseum of social media, the line between fame and peril has never been thinner.
