Читать книгу Caught Out - Shocking Revelations of Corruption in International Cricket - Brian Radford - Страница 11

It was on 23 March 2007 that Lucius Thomas, distinguished head of the Jamaican police force, released the chilling announcement that Bob Woolmer, one of the world’s most popular cricket personalities, had been brutally murdered. Woolmer had died suddenly in his Kingston hotel room six days earlier.

Thomas made his shock public statement after receiving the official post-mortem findings of the Jamaican government pathologist who had reported that the highly respected coach of the Pakistan cricket team had died from asphyxia caused by manual strangulation.

In a calm and measured tone, Thomas told the world: ‘Mr Robert Woolmer’s death is now being treated by the Jamaican police as a case of murder.’ It was such a categorical statement of fact, based wholly on the official autopsy result, that it totally removed any conjecture that Woolmer might have died from natural causes, or any other means.

The police chief immediately appealed for ‘anyone with information that would help us to identify Bob Woolmer’s killer, or killers, to come forward in order that his wife, Gill, and his family, can begin the process of healing’.

A murder in Jamaica was hardly something new for its busy police force to deal with, as serious crime and killings were a constant issue in a country with massive drugs and gang problems. Even so, this was a murder case that went way beyond anything that the Jamaican police had encountered before, as Woolmer was a high-profile visitor who had died in mysterious circumstances just hours after Pakistan had been eliminated from the 2007 Cricket World Cup by Ireland.

Once the Jamaican police chief had so confidently stated that Woolmer was murdered, the floodgates were automatically opened for conspiracy theorists to point accusing fingers in all directions, which included players and officials in the Pakistan tour party, all of whom were on the island for the World Cup.

It was Dr Ere Sheshiah, the government’s chief forensic pathologist, who concluded that Woolmer had been strangled after he had carried out a microscopic examination of the coach’s body at the local mortuary. The highly experienced Dr Sheshiah was in his 18th year in this specialised forensic field, and it would have taken a brave, or ignorant, person to accuse him of not knowing what he was talking about. He was a complete and reliable professional.

Once Dr Sheshiah had produced his official post-mortem report it was generally expected that the police would launch an immediate full-blown murder hunt to ensure that crucial evidence was secured before it was deliberately removed or lost by accident.

A swift and methodical investigation was imperative to apprehend the person or persons responsible but, incredibly, the anticipated course of action slowed up, and Dr Sheshiah’s findings were suddenly challenged and questioned, and the reason for Woolmer’s death curiously developed more twists and turns than an Austrian mountain pass.

Without doubt it was the most macabre mystery ever to befall world cricket, and from the outset the shocked public was desperately hungry for every morsel of information, and millions of amateur detectives in homes and offices and bars around the world instantly set about trying to separate fact from fiction.

Thoughts went back to when Woolmer was last seen in public on Saturday 17 March, as he tried to come to terms with Pakistan losing by three wickets to lowly Ireland at a stunned Sabina Park in Kingston. It was Pakistan’s most humiliating defeat of all time, and Ireland’s first World Cup success. Even allowing for all sorts of unpredictable sports upsets that never cease to baffle fans, this was exceptional on every conceivable level.

Woolmer had not been able to hide his distress as he told reporters: ‘We batted abysmally. Just made mistake after mistake. It just compounded, and eventually we were 40 to 50 runs short. We made some very injudicious shot selections. Mohammad Yousuf, Kamran Akmal and Azhar Mahmood are three, off the top of my head, who played shots that weren’t necessary.

‘That’s sad. Two-and-a-half to three years’ work has gone into this, and to fall out like this is very disappointing. I don’t really know what to say, apart from apologising for the team’s performance.’

Woolmer was then asked about his plans for the future, and he gloomily replied: ‘My contract runs out on June 30 anyway. So I’ll sleep on my future. I’m reluctant to continue in international cricket, purely from a travelling point of view. But I’ll stick to coaching at a different level. I think a decision’s probably been made for me… I’ll talk to the PCB [Pakistan Cricket Board] and see what they want me to do. If they want me to go, I’ll go. If they want me to stay, I’ll stay until June 30th. I’m not going to break my contract, but if the PCB want to get rid of me, that’s their business.’

Plainly distressed and concerned, Woolmer then released an alarming cryptic comment: ‘A number of extenuating circumstances in the past six months have made coaching Pakistan [cricketers] slightly different from normal sides, so those are things that I would have to consider. A lot of those things would have to change if I were to continue with Pakistan.’

At no point did Woolmer offer or try to explain what he meant by ‘extenuating circumstances’ or his puzzling remark ‘coaching Pakistan [is] slightly different from normal sides’. Any number of interpretations could have been made to try to make sense of this apparently coded message, and some cynics inevitably concluded that betting and cheating were what he had in mind.

Whatever Woolmer was bothered about, however, it did seem that he had virtually decided that his Pakistan career was close to coming to an end – either by him resigning and walking away, or being sacked by the PCB. He even teasingly admitted that he would like to do consultancy work in England. ‘I want to continue coaching,’ he stressed. ‘I think it’s time for me to start coaching coaches.’

It was at this point that he took everyone by surprise when he suddenly revealed that he ‘had been writing about the game recently, so I’d like to continue to do that…’

But writing about what? And whom? It was a dramatic disclosure that provoked considerable conjecture in the sad days ahead, and probably will forever, as many well-informed observers were convinced that he was about to expose the full extent of corruption among international cricketers and officials. Woolmer ended what turned out to be his final interview with, in hindsight, the incredibly ironic words: ‘I have not made up my mind. Let me sleep on it…’

Every piece of available evidence indicated that Woolmer never even got to bed that night, let alone fall sleep in his room on the 12th floor of the 17-storey Pegasus Hotel in the heart of Jamaica.

What was known was that Woolmer sent a number of late-night e-mails to his wife, Gill, at home in Cape Town. Several weeks later she said: ‘He was really depressed, and could not believe how this could have happened.’ It was generally assumed that those highly emotive words referred to Pakistan’s appalling defeat.

Exactly what Woolmer said in those private e-mails to his wife that night has mostly remained confidential to the family, and it is highly unlikely that their intimate details will ever be put in the public domain, in which case there will be no definite way of knowing his exact state of mind while he sat alone in his hotel room pondering his present position, and the future.

It was around 10.45 next morning when hotel staff found Woolmer lying unconscious on his bathroom floor. He was rushed to hospital but died an hour later. Police chiefs quickly stressed that there was no sign that anyone had made a forced entry into Woolmer’s room, or of a physical struggle, and that his possessions seemed to be undisturbed.

Consent for a post-mortem came immediately from Woolmer’s family, who said that he had been suffering from stress, and they thought it was this that might have caused a heart attack and killed him. The first post-mortem was deemed to be ‘inconclusive’, so extra tests were ordered, followed by Jamaica’s deputy police commissioner Mark Shields (who had been recruited from Scotland Yard in 2005) announcing that Woolmer’s death was being treated as suspicious, although there was nothing to suggest murder at that stage.

As many as ten forensic science officers were soon on the scene, and they meticulously combed Woolmer’s hotel room amid rumours that traces of blood and vomit had been found on the floor and walls, and that a blood-testing device for diabetes had been discovered.

Further speculation suggested that scratches were found on Woolmer’s neck, as well as blood on his cheek. All this escalating gossip was putting huge pressure on the police to admit, or deny, what was being alleged, but a wall of silence was being built up, and lips were suspiciously sealed.

Suicide was another inevitable consideration, bearing in mind Woolmer’s apparently profound distress, but his distraught wife, Gill, who knew him better than anyone else, completely rejected this possibility, although she would not rule out murder.

Fingerprints and statements were taken from every member of the Pakistan playing squad, plus officials and backroom staff, although the police carefully emphasised that no one in the party was a suspect in their inquiries, and that they were free to leave at any time. CCTV footage from the Pegasus Hotel was flown to Scotland Yard in London for examination by technical experts with the help of the most up-to-date analytical equipment.

Then, four days after Woolmer’s death, and completely out of the blue, the police suddenly announced that further post-mortem tests had shown that the popular Pakistan coach, and former England Test batsman, had been strangled.

But by whom? And how? And why? The media erupted, a major guessing game began, and conspiracy theorists conjured up all sorts of frightening possibilities – so it was no surprise when the Woolmer family leapt in to stress that they knew of no threat that had been made on his life, and that they had no knowledge of him being involved in match-fixing.

A number of Scotland Yard detectives then arrived in Jamaica just as several reliable media outlets were reporting that Woolmer had actually been poisoned by a deadly plant, or even snake venom, before he was strangled. Another gruesome rumour was that Woolmer had visited a player’s hotel room and had innocently picked up a bottle of champagne that had been spiked with poison. Even Panorama, the BBC’s foremost television documentary programme, claimed that a powerful drug had been found in Woolmer’s body that would have rendered him helpless.

Woolmer’s remains were flown to Cape Town, where he was cremated privately at a family service in a funeral parlour close to his home, but a large number of incredulous journalists were still not satisfied that the entire truth had been disclosed to the public. Britain’s largest-circulation daily tabloid, The Sun, even claimed in a startling headline that ‘Potter drug did kill Woolmer’.

The newspaper maintained that Woolmer had been poisoned by the drug aconite, also known as wolfsbane, which is mentioned in the bestselling J K Rowling book Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

‘Toxicology tests have confirmed “significant” traces of it in the Pakistan coach’s body,’ alleged The Sun. ‘The tests were ordered following an anonymous tip to Jamaican police eight days after Woolmer died that aconite had been used. Aconite, which paralyses the nerves, normally takes only 30 minutes to kill. Victims suffer vomiting and diarrhoea before collapsing, unable to breathe, to die in agony. A neck injury which caused police to say Woolmer had been strangled is now thought to have followed a fall when he collapsed.’

The newspaper continued: ‘Detectives believe the drug, in the form of white powder, could have been tipped into whisky Woolmer was drinking in his room, or sprinkled over sleeping tablets and diabetes tablets that he was taking. The ancient poison, also known as wolfsbane, is said to be perfect for concealing murder, and has been used in several high-profile assassinations in Pakistan. Its use fuels suspicion that Woolmer was murdered to stop him exposing match-fixing.’

Nothing came of the tabloid’s claims, but Home Office pathologist Dr Nathaniel Carey, who had flown in from London to examine autopsy ‘material’, agreed that Woolmer had not been strangled – leading to confusion and widespread frantic cries of ‘cover-up’.

Dr Carey was aided by pathologists Dr Michael Pollanen from Canada and Professor Lorna Jean Martin from South Africa, and a short time later a Scotland Yard spokesman announced that Woolmer had died from natural causes. He explained that this conclusion, which was totally different from the original official post-mortem report by Dr Sheshiah, was based on what Dr Carey and his colleagues had discovered. No specific medical definition of ‘natural causes’ accompanied this conclusion.

It was then left to police chief Lucius Thomas to make an official statement on 12 June that the Jamaican police force had accepted the findings of the three overseas pathologists, and bluntly added that it had ‘closed its investigation into the death of Mr Bob Woolmer’.

Although this terse statement brought a sharp and official conclusion to the complex mystery of Bob Woolmer’s demise, sceptics around the world would be seeking a more detailed explanation for this sudden, and what some regarded as suspicious, verdict.

A highly experienced government pathologist had originally reported that Woolmer had died from asphyxia caused by manual strangulation, but now we were being asked to believe that he got it wrong, and that Woolmer’s death was really due to natural causes.

A series of extraordinary allegations later came from more than 50 witnesses at the coroner’s inquest into Woolmer’s death, which opened in front of an 11-member jury in the Jamaican Conference Centre in Kingston on 16 October. The inquest was originally arranged for 23 March, five days after Woolmer was pronounced dead at the University Hospital of the West Indies, but inquiries and conflicting theories had forced the seven-month delay.

Over the next three months, witnesses would tell the inquest jury that Woolmer was seen with a stranger putting bundles of money in a bag shortly before he died; of pesticides being found in his system during the autopsy; and of an admission to his wife in an e-mail that he was depressed.

The first witness, hotel maid Bernice Robinson, recalled seeing blood on a pillow and smelling alcohol and vomit when she entered Woolmer’s hotel room to clean it, before finding him unconscious on the bathroom floor. Yet another major twist in this incredible case came when a janitor stepped into the witness box and alleged that she saw Woolmer counting ‘coils of United States dollars’ in the company of another man inside a private area of the dressing room at the Sabina Park cricket ground.

She told the jury: ‘Mr Woolmer was checking it [the money] and putting it away in a big bag, similar to bags carried by cricketers. The money was in a thick coil. I saw lots of money on the table.’ The janitor worked as a senior superintendent for a maintenance company and, although she did not know the man who was with Woolmer, she believed that ‘the person was an Indian’ but couldn’t explain how she came to that conclusion.

She said that the incident happened on 12 March, six days before Woolmer was found unconscious, and that the dressing-room door was closed when she arrived, and that she was allowed in after she identified herself. According to the janitor the two men spoke in a language she did not know. She replaced the dressing-room toiletries and left.

Government pathologist Dr Ere Sheshiah told the inquest that he stuck by his conclusion that Woolmer was poisoned by the pesticide cypermethrin and then strangled. He stressed that he had served his profession for 18 years, which seemed to be a deliberate attempt by him to reassure everyone of his professional knowledge and experience.

Cypermethrin is a manmade chemical that was first synthesised in 1974 and first marketed in 1977 as being highly effective against a wide range of pests in agriculture, public health and animal husbandry. It is a mixture of several closely related chemicals. Excessive exposure to cypermethrin can affect the brain, digestive system, eyes, lungs, peripheral nerves and skin.

British forensic specialist Dr John Slaughter told the jury that he had analysed toxicology tests on Woolmer, and found no traces of a potentially deadly pesticide in samples that were provided. It could be significant that Dr Slaughter did not categorically state that no pesticide was found, but used the words ‘potentially deadly’.

A principal witness, who had worked for 26 years in the Forensic Laboratory in Jamaica, told the jury that tests carried out on blood and urine from Woolmer’s body had shown evidence of cypermethrin, and that the tranquilliser chloropazne was found in his stomach. Alcohol was also found in blood specimens.

Chief investigating officer Mark Shields read to the jury an e-mail that Woolmer had sent to his wife, Gill, from his room on the evening after Pakistan’s shock defeat. It said: ‘Hi darling, feeling a little depressed currently, as you might imagine… I am not sure which is worse, being knocked out in the semi-final at Edgbaston, or now in the first round. Our batting performance was abysmal, and my worst fears were realised. I could tell the players for some reason couldn’t fire themselves up… I hope your day was better, but I doubt it, as you were probably watching. Not much more to add I’m afraid, but I still love you lots.’

Mark Shields told coroner Patrick Murphy that former Pakistan captain Inzamam-ul-Haq was one of four Pakistani people who had refused to attend the inquest to give testimony and be questioned. He said that medium-pace bowler Rana Naved-ul-Hasan, assistant manager Asad Mustafa, and former media manager Pervez Mir had also refused to travel to Jamaica. Requests for them to attend had been made through the Pakistan Cricket Board.

The shock-filled inquest lasted an intriguing 31 days before it closed on 28 November, by which time 57 witnesses had given evidence and a further seven witness statements had been handed to the jury, who took just three hours to return an open verdict, being unable to decide whether Woolmer died from natural causes or a criminal act. The jury foreman explained: ‘We came to an open verdict because the evidence was too weak. There were too many “ifs and buts” and “what ifs”. It was not conclusive.’

For conspiracy theorists it was the ideal result that would allow them all sorts of extravagant conjecture with little risk of official contradiction or denial. One immediate new theory was that Woolmer had died of heart failure brought on by chronic ill-health and possibly diabetes, even though as national team coach he was physically active every day and he had not talked about or shown any worrying health problems. Another more alarming theory was that he was going to name people involved in cricket betting in a book that he was writing.

Many crucial questions had still not been answered. For instance, did he send e-mails to his wife that fateful night that were not read at the inquest? What exactly was meant by ‘natural causes’? What did the death certificate state in detail, and who signed it?

At least one person was allegedly seen in the corridor near Woolmer’s room in the hours shortly before he died, and CCTV footage was sent to Scotland Yard for its experts to identify any images. Police chief Mark Shields confirmed that the Jamaican police were also working hard to identify everyone captured on security footage from the hotel.

So what exactly happened to the tell-tale film that was sent to Scotland Yard and to the Jamaican police? It is a matter of some concern that it was never disclosed whether the experts who studied the CCTV footage drew a blank, or whether they were indeed able to identify clearly an individual lurking in the corridors close to Woolmer’s room, and decided, for whatever reason, that silence was the best option.

Professor Tim Noakes, of the University of Cape Town, later came forward to say that he and Woolmer were writing a cricket coaching manual together which was due to be published by the end of the year. Woolmer was hardly taking a physical risk in compiling a tame coaching manual, but it would have been different if he were writing an explosive autobiography recalling shady dealings in the international cricket world.

Many well-informed journalists believed Woolmer was bringing his autobiography up to date, and that it would include his time in Pakistan, exposing scandals and naming perpetrators. Woolmer was coach of the South African team when captain Hansie Cronje, a close friend, confessed that he had accepted money from Indian bookmakers to fix matches, although it is stressed that there was nothing whatsoever to suggest that Woolmer was personally involved, or even knew what Cronje was up to.

Woolmer’s wife, Gill, has repeatedly said: ‘I don’t see any conspiracy in his death. He had nothing to do with the match-fixing controversy, and we’ve never had threats, as far as I know.’ She also said: ‘My sons and I were relieved to be informed officially that Bob died of natural causes, and that no foul play was suspected in his death.’ Woolmer’s son, Russell, added: ‘There was a lot of stress in his job, and it might have been stress that caused it.’

Yet it was the inquest jury’s failure to confirm what the three overseas pathologists concluded in direct contradiction of the initial findings by a highly competent government medical expert – with 18 years of experience in a fiercely volatile country – that was the great worry, and which means that the mystery remains as impenetrable now as it was when Bob Woolmer was found unconscious on his hotel bathroom floor.

No one was better placed than former Warwickshire all-rounder Paul Smith to provide a reliable and profound analysis of Woolmer the man, and Woolmer the coach. For several years Smith and Woolmer were close friends and colleagues, both at Edgbaston and in South Africa, where they often met up to coach and chat during the English winter months when there was no cricket.

Smith had the highest admiration for Woolmer, and in his explosive autobiography stressed that, as far as he was concerned, any accusations directed at Woolmer that alleged match-fixing would be a load of garbage. He was convinced that Woolmer was killed ‘precisely because he was so clean and so determined not to allow any of that seedy world to enter the sport he loved. He was certainly no match-fixer.’

Smith was aware that at the time of the ‘murder’ in the Caribbean, Woolmer was in the process of starting an academy in Cape Town, and was absolutely sure that his good friend and colleague would never have done anything to damage the game he loved. Quite amusingly, Smith said: ‘He might have found it hard to say no to Thai food, but he wasn’t greedy when it came to money. Very few top coaches would have been prepared to live in the basic one-bedroom flat in the National Stadium in Pakistan that Bob made his home for so long.’

Smith had the same welter of praise for Woolmer as an individual, and said that he would always be grateful for the part this special coach played in his education as a person. He recalled that what immediately stood out with Woolmer when he joined Warwickshire as coach in March 1991 was the time he spent trying to get his point across.

‘We would debate anything and everything, talking cricket for hours in an attempt to understand what could turn our fortunes,’ said Smith, admiringly.

‘It was time well spent. The four years he was with us at Edgbaston took the club to a different level. He was superb. A father figure, keen as they come, and with a professional approach and attention to detail that were allied to excellent communication skills and a healthy portion of common sense.’

Smith praised Woolmer in particular for his inventive skills and for not being afraid to be different, and recalled how this gifted coach judged fast bowler Allan Donald’s rhythm by listening to the noise his feet made on the ground as he ran to the wicket, and the exact sound when he passed the umpire.

Again with a touch of humour, Smith said: ‘Under Bob we learned that chewing extra-strong mints helped the ball to swing more. We even worked out that spices in curry lingering in our saliva helped with shining [the ball].

‘Bob showed that if you worked hard, thought positively, and backed yourself, anything was possible. He put smiles back on faces at Edgbaston, creating an environment in which everyone wanted to be involved. He taught us how to assess and correct things within games, and taught us about the importance of imagination and affirmation. He was miles ahead of other coaches at the time.’

Bob Woolmer was born in 1948 in a hospital in Kanpur, India, which was aptly situated directly opposite the town’s cricket ground. He came to prominence as a stylish stroke-playing batsman in the successful Kent side in the 1970s. He also took wickets with his accurate seam bowling.

Woolmer made his debut for England in the Second Test against Australia in 1975, and on his second appearance later in the series doggedly accumulated 149 runs in more than eight hours at the crease to save the match, bravely defying the fiery fast-bowling pair of Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson. Two further centuries against the Australians established Woolmer as a dependable international batsman, but his escalating career was suddenly halted when he joined the maverick Kerry Packer World Series Cricket revolution in 1977.

His return to Test match cricket was disappointing, and he quit as a top-class player in 1981 to join a rebel tour to South Africa. Woolmer played in 19 Tests, and scored 1,059 runs at an average of 33.09.

Eventually, he started to use his talents as a coach in South Africa, and returned to England in 1991 to take charge of Warwickshire – a role in which he was enormously successful, steering the county club to four trophies in two years – and it came as no surprise when he was beckoned back to South Africa in 1994 to coach the national side. Again he performed brilliantly and helped South Africa to win ten out of 15 series of Test matches, and prepared a squad for One-day Internationals that was just as strong.

Woolmer was a pioneer of cricket technology. He used video cameras, laptops and other electronic gadgets to identify and correct flaws in his own players, and to spot and exploit weaknesses in the opposition. He lost his South African job in 1999 after a World Cup defeat by Australia, and he changed course completely and became a high-performance manager for the International Cricket Council, where he helped to develop the emerging cricketing nations in skills and strategy.

Woolmer returned to top-flight coaching in 2004 when he surprisingly accepted an invitation from the Pakistan Cricket Board to undertake what turned out to be the hardest job in the game. Amid all the horrendous political and playing problems that erupted in his three years in the post, Woolmer remained courteous, diligent, never avoiding awkward questions, always offering honest explanations, and never once tainting his own, or his team’s integrity.

It was only in the last few months of his impressive reign that traumatic off-field problems, splits in the team and political undermining began to get under his skin and cause him to lose his cool and react aggressively. A blazing row with Shoaib Akhtar in South Africa, the ball-tampering walk-out at The Oval, and shameful drugs bans for Akhtar and Mohammad Asif were just a few of the many disturbing incidents that piled on the pressure.

But above all else, Bob Woolmer was a placid person who was passionately dedicated to his work, although he could be fiercely outspoken if the occasion demanded it, and was especially forthright on issues such as poor pitches, indifferent umpiring, and the congested international fixture programme.

Ironically, his frankness was never more in evidence than in his last hours when answering a barrage of blunt and awkward questions after Pakistan’s humiliating drubbing by Ireland.

He left the ground a sad and embarrassed man, never to return…