In the 2009 Heineken Cup quarter-final at the Stoop, Tom Williams knelt, his hand touching the grass, his eyes darting around anxiously, his heart racing. His team, Harlequins, were trailing by a single point, and the match was in its crucial final stages. This game represented the most important moment in the 25-year-old's career.

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Harlequins were desperate to reach the semi-finals for the first time, but standing in their way was a star-studded Leicester side boasting the likes of Brian O'Driscoll, Jamie Heaslip, Rob Kearney, and Felipe Contepomi. The stakes were incredibly high, time was running out, but Williams was facing a more immediate problem at that moment.

"I'd already got the blood capsule out of my sock and into my mouth, and then I was trying to bite it," Williams recalled. However, the capsule fell to the ground. "I'm colour blind, so I couldn't see anything on the floor, so I was scrambling around trying to find it. It was absolutely farcical."

Minutes later, everyone witnessed the scene. Williams found the capsule and bit down, the bright red "blood" streaming from his mouth and onto Harlequins' iconic four-quartered jersey. A "blood injury" meant Harlequins could bring their star fly-half, Nick Evans, back onto the field, who had been previously substituted, to attempt a last-gasp shot at goal. The "timing" of Williams' injury raised suspicions.

Former Bath and England fly-half Stuart Barnes, commentating for Sky Sports, remarked, "Who punched Tom Williams in the mouth? Tom Williams himself?" In the press box, Brian Moore, working for BBC radio, stated live on air, "It's a complete and utter sham. Gamesmanship at best, downright cheating at worst."

On the sidelines, Leicester's staff held similar views, albeit expressed more forcefully. Leicester's operations manager, Rohan O'Donnell, said, "Dean Richards, who was the director of rugby at Harlequins at the time, was on the touchline, and I had a few words with him. I'd probably have to sanitise some of them. I just told him he was cheating, and he knew he was cheating."

O'Donnell repeated his claim to a touchline official. "He showed me his fingers," O'Donnell recalled. "He had some 'blood' on his fingers, and it was like a crayon that had exploded on his hand. The texture and the colour of it. He wasn't very happy about that either."

Williams walked down the players' tunnel, surrounded by Harlequins' staff. Leicester's backroom staff followed closely behind. The truth went with them, but it would soon surface. After the match, Richards was immediately questioned about Williams' injury. "He's got a cut in his mouth, and if someone's injured, you're entitled to bring him off," he said. "So you're comfortable with that?" touchline reporter Graham Simmons pressed. "Yes, very comfortable," Richards affirmed.

The capsule incident was over, but the cover-up was just beginning. Williams did indeed have a cut in his mouth at this point. He was locked in the home team's changing room while Leicester's staff and match officials were banging on the door, demanding entry and an explanation. He pleaded with the club doctor, Wendy Chapman, to create a real wound with a scalpel to replace the fake one. With the noise outside escalating, she reluctantly complied. A photograph was taken as evidence to support Harlequins' conspiracy.

"We were just desperate to win, and we didn't think about the ethical implications," Williams said. "We thought we were just pushing the boundaries and doing everything we could to get a result." But they hadn't succeeded on the pitch. Evans limped a penalty kick wide, and Leicester ultimately won. Soon, they would need to fight for victory again in the boardroom.

Three months after the match, Williams, Chapman, Richards, and Harlequins' physiotherapist, Steph Brennan, sat in plush offices at a law firm in central London. They all faced charges of misconduct, and a large screen. On the screen was previously unseen television footage. The footage showed Brennan appearing to hand Williams something as he treated another player on the field. Williams then appeared to fold the mysterious object into his sock. Finally, minutes later, the winger knelt, retrieved it, and, after dropping it, put it back in his mouth. Combined with footage of him winking at a teammate as he walked off the pitch, it constituted compelling evidence.

The club also had its own defense. Richards coordinated their story. They all claimed that Williams had taken his mouthguard out of his sock. His mouth was already bleeding. Chapman had simply applied gauze to Williams' mouth, not a scalpel. Richards called the allegations against him and his club "ludicrous" and claimed that fair play was "built in" to his coaching philosophy. Brennan claimed she had never seen the capsules, except at a Halloween party. She had bought the capsule used by Williams from a fancy dress shop in Clapham.

The panel presiding over the case was skeptical, but because Harlequins' backroom staff stuck to their story, they were unable to unravel the full conspiracy. "It was clearly a lie," Williams said. "I realised I was in real trouble." The verdict fell squarely on Williams. He was banned from rugby for a year. Richards, Chapman, and Brennan were all acquitted, and the club was fined 250,000 euros for failing to control its players. In the eyes of the disciplinary panel, Williams was a lone rogue agent.

Harlequins had been united in crime and cover-up but were suddenly divided by a punishment that touched only one of them. Williams, accused of independently masterminding the blood capsule scheme and bringing shame on Harlequins, sought advice from the Rugby Players' Association. They urged him to appeal and expose the entire conspiracy. But the club had other ideas. Williams was offered a new two-year contract, a guaranteed three years of work at the club after retirement, and a promise to help him build a career outside of rugby. He just had to keep quiet. He had to be a team player again. He had to protect the club that meant so much to them all.

The full extent of the conspiracy, the complicity of club medical staff and coaches, could not be exposed. "They said to me, 'Do you understand the implications of the decision you're about to make? If you stand up and expose this, Harlequins will be kicked out of Europe, your friends will have fewer opportunities to play for their country, Steph and Wendy will be struck off, we'll lose sponsors, we'll lose money,'" Williams recalled. "Playing rugby was the only thing I wanted to do, and the only thing I felt I was capable of doing. So I was torn between standing up and telling the truth and taking all the blame. I didn't know what to do."

"I would have taken the blame," said Ugo Monye, Williams' teammate at the time. "One hundred percent I would have taken the blame if that so-called contract was on offer." The pressure was immense. Harlequins were desperate to contain the toxic scandal. Williams, banned and branded a cheat, wanted to tell the truth, explain his actions, and salvage his rugby dream. At one point, he asked for more money in exchange for his silence; £390,000 to pay off his mortgage and a four-year contract. Harlequins refused.

Harlequins chairman Charles Jillings called Williams' demands "excessive" and "outrageous" in a statement at the time. He insisted that "under no circumstances was this financial offer a reward for Tom's silence." "I was at rock bottom," Williams said. "From a personal point of view, it was a disastrous period." And time was running out. Williams had one month to appeal his ban, reveal the truth, and get his career back on track.

Just two days before the appeal window closed, an email landed in Williams' inbox. He wasn't the only one considering an appeal. European Cup organizers were also unhappy that he was the only one found guilty. They knew there had to be more to the case. The possibility of a young player devising such a scheme alone and secretly implementing it within the tightly controlled environment of a professional club was slim. They wrote to Williams to tell him that they would be appealing the acquittals of Richards, Brennan, and Chapman. They would summon him as a witness, cross-examine him, and bring a second charge of misconduct against him if he didn't cooperate. "His face just drained," recalled Alex, Williams' girlfriend at the time, and now his wife.

Harlequins' top brass convened for one final summit. Tom and Alex drove to the Surrey home of one of the club's directors. Drinks and snacks were laid out, but the conversation quickly turned to the matter at hand. "We were going around in circles," Tom recalled. "Harlequins said to me that if I took all the blame, they would guarantee me future work, pay off part of my mortgage, pay for my honeymoon, and guarantee my girlfriend future work. On the other hand, if I stood up and told the truth, I would bury the club."

After three hours of back-and-forth, Alex, frustrated, stressed, and exhausted, excused herself to go for a cigarette. As she stubbed out her cigarette and prepared to return to the meeting room, she saw Tom walking in the opposite direction. He had given up. He was going to flee, leave the country, turn his back on rugby, and start over – anything to get away from the situation. But Alex wasn't finished. She wanted to ask the 13 people in the room one more question. She went back inside. "I remember the look of shock on their faces when it was just me standing there," she said. "I said, 'I'm so sorry to bother you all again, but would you mind if I just took a few more minutes of your time? I just want to ask each of you a question individually'. I walked up to each of them, pointed at them, and asked, 'Was this Tom's fault?' And each of them said loudly 'No'."

"Alex re-humanized me because I'd allowed myself to become de-humanized, and Harlequins had de-humanized me," Tom said. "I was a pawn at that point, and I was prepared to be moved in any way by anyone. She was someone from outside that close-knit, rugby-focused environment, and she could see through it all. She said what happened wasn't my fault – what happened was wrong – and made people realize that." The next morning, bright and early, Tom received a phone call. Richards had resigned. Harlequins said they would support Williams in telling the truth and accepting the consequences. The game was up. The cover-up would be exposed. The truth would change lives.

At a hearing in Glasgow, Williams told the whole story. Richards admitted to instructing physio Brennan to carry blood capsules in his medical bag "just in case." He was deemed the "principal orchestrator" of "Bloodgate" and was banned from rugby for three years. Brennan admitted to buying the fake blood in advance and was described as Richards' "lieutenant." He was banned from the sport for two years, and a dream job working with the England team vanished.

Harlequins' club doctor, Chapman, was referred to the General Medical Council in Britain. By cutting Tom's mouth, she had violated a core tenet of medicine: "do no harm." She said she felt "ashamed" and "horrified" by what she had done, but she found an unlikely supporter. Arthur Tanner – the Leicester doctor at the Stoop that day, and one of those angered by Tom's fake injury – spoke up for her. "When it became apparent that she was being coerced and intimidated into doing it, I felt really, really sorry for her because I realised she was going to be in a difficult situation for the next two or three years," he said. Tom also supported Chapman, saying at the hearing that she was "as much a victim in this as I was."

"I very much regret… putting her in a situation where she felt she had no choice but to do that," Tom said. Chapman was allowed to return to medicine. But of the four, Williams was the only one who remained at Harlequins. At the first game of the following season, some away fans dressed as vampires. He was targeted on the pitch, taunted by opposing players, and occasionally punched and kicked. There was no sanctuary in the home dressing room either. "Some of my teammates would have been loyal to Dean Richards and would have seen that I'd not only betrayed him but betrayed their club," Williams recalled. "It definitely affected them, and there was definitely a level of distrust, probably dislike."

Williams became quieter, sadder, and more withdrawn. His game lost its spark, and his face lost its smile. It seemed he was simply fulfilling his contract, a reminder of an unwanted past as Harlequins built an exciting new team under new boss Conor O'Shea in the 2011-12 season. "I lost every ounce of confidence I might have had," Williams recalled. "I wasn't in the team. I was just someone who had done something in the past."

But, in a match against French giants Toulouse, Williams' game reignited. The season culminated in Harlequins winning their first Premiership title in the sunshine at Twickenham, with Williams scoring the opening try in front of Alex and their young son. "It's just the weirdest thing how sport works and how life's mapped out," Williams said. "You go from being dead in the water to feeling like you're on top of the world."

But you can also go the other way. Williams continued to play for Harlequins until 2015, then moved into the coaching staff. In 2019, he left rugby to pursue a career in consulting. "I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety about five years ago, which I suspect came from this," he said. "I've been on medication ever since, and I struggle with it every day. My default is always to trust, which got me into trouble in the first place – but it's the best way for me to operate. I try to see the best in people. I try to see the best in everyone involved. I wish them all well because there's no point in holding on to it. At the end of the day, it was a game of sport, but it meant a lot to me at the time. I wish I had the self-awareness and perspective that I have now. I'm very, very happy now. I've got three healthy, happy children, and I feel like I'm building a life for myself that isn't defined by a moment in 2009."

For all involved, shaking off the stain of what flowed from that capsule and cut that day has been difficult. Dean Richards and Mark Evans both declined to be interviewed for this podcast series. Steph Brennan did not respond to our requests, and Dr. Wendy Chapman could not be reached.