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The Scapegoat: One Murder. Two Victims. 27 Years Lost.
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Читать книгу The Scapegoat: One Murder. Two Victims. 27 Years Lost. - - Страница 4
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Вернуться на страницу книги The Scapegoat: One Murder. Two Victims. 27 Years Lost.
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Copyright
Страница 4
Contents
Страница 6
Map of Bakewell Cemetery
Introduction
CHAPTER 1
‘Stephen Who?’
CHAPTER 2
The Downings
MURDER BID CHARGE
WOMAN DIES AFTER ATTACK IN CEMETERY
YOUTH ON MURDER CHARGE IS FOUND GUILTY
CHAPTER 3
What Ray Saw
CHAPTER 4
The Confession
CHAPTER 5
The Witnesses
CHAPTER 6
Stephen’s Version
The cemetery always seemed empty even when there were other people milling about – although I felt particularly isolated when I was alone. The creaking of the huge timbers in the roof structure of the unconsecrated chapel gave the place an eerie feeling, as if you were never quite alone. It was September and, while the day was warm enough to work without a jacket, the chapel had a chillness that cut to the bone. I wasted no time in getting a fire going with the hope I could push back the blanket of cold – at least enough to be able to enjoy my break. I then collected the tools I needed. I don’t have any recollection of any unusual visitors to the cemetery during the morning before my break, although I do recall one lady who regularly walked her dog in there. More often than not I would see her in the afternoon, but on that day she came in the morning. I never got to know her name but, as was customary, she stopped by me and we chatted briefly. She asked me where I had been for the past two days, as she had not seen me, and I told her that I’d been off with a cold. She told me to keep warm and I informed her that I had a fire going in the unconsecrated chapel. I remember the lady quite clearly, as it was the first time I had seen her wearing a salmon-pink wool topcoat. I think I may have commented on how nice it looked and that it went well with her blonde hair. I recall her saying it was a new one, as she normally wore a beige coat. She went on her way and I returned to work.
I heard the clock strike noon and I stopped clipping grass and took out the pocket watch I had borrowed from my father. I gathered my tools and returned to the unconsecrated chapel where I had my lunch and a cup of coffee. I followed this with a cigarette and reluctantly pulled myself away from the fire’s inviting warmth to tinker with an old Allen mower. I took out my father’s pocket watch again and saw that it was about 12.55 p.m. I then lit another cigarette and went to smoke it standing by the steps to the right of the unconsecrated chapel. I noticed a woman walking up the path towards the junior school. I had never seen her before, so I continued to watch her until she went behind the hedge surrounding the Garden of Remembrance. There had been some damage caused to some of the graves, nothing too serious, just childish vandalism, so I was asked to look out for any such behaviour. By the time she passed behind the hedge I had finished my cigarette and, realising she would not be the kind of person to do any damage, I went back inside the chapel where I stoked up the fire. I then put on my jacket and picked up my lemonade bottle with the hope of getting to the shops before they closed for lunch. By the time I left the unconsecrated chapel it would be about 1.05. The shop I was heading for normally closed at 1 p.m., but had on occasions been known to stay open for a few minutes longer if they had customers in already being served. As I walked along the main drive I soon noticed that the woman, who I later learnt was Wendy Sewell, was walking along the bottom footpath that runs alongside Catcliff Wood. She was a little way ahead of me and seemed to be in no rush. She appeared to be looking from side to side at the inscriptions on the headstones. I estimate that it would have taken around two to three minutes to cover the length of the path, with the woman disappearing behind the consecrated chapel moments before I drew level with the building. As I went past she did not continue on her journey and I naturally assumed that she had turned around to retrace her steps. I didn’t turn around to look. When I came level with the lodge I saw Wilf Walker and his wife at the door. I don’t think his wife acknowledged me, but Wilf and I nodded to each other. I turned left outside the gates and passed Peter Moran crossing the road on his way back to work. We both said hello to each other without stopping. As I got nearer to the shop I passed Charlie Carman, also on his way back to work. We both greeted each other and again neither of us stopped. Moments later, I realised the shop had already closed so I went home.
Upon arrival I went to unlock the door and my mother called to me to say the door wasn’t locked. I went in via the back door where my mother greeted me. She was in the process of making herself a cup of coffee and explained that she had not long arrived home. I asked if she would buy me a bottle of lemonade when the shop reopened. My mother said she would. I then counted out the money – minus the allowance on the returned bottle. She asked if I would like the bottle of lemonade bringing down to the churchyard and I said something along the lines that it would be all right either way, as I could always take it with me the next day. I then asked her if she had fed my baby hedgehogs, as that was one of the main reasons I had gone back home. She said she had. A couple more minutes passed and then I said I had better be getting back. My mother offered to make a cup of coffee, but I refused. I never liked to be away for too long in case anyone checked up on me and I had to explain the reason for my absence, as I had perhaps spent about five minutes or so with my mother before leaving and making my way back to the cemetery by the same route. As I entered the main gates of the cemetery, I noticed that Wilf and his wife had gone into the lodge and closed the door. After going a little further, I took my jacket off and carried it over my shoulder. It wasn’t until I was passing some of the first graves that something caught my eye, so I looked to my left. It took a few seconds to realise that it was someone lying on the bottom path, so I walked over. It was impossible to see the blood from the main drive or any of the external signs of injury. I threw my jacket down at the victim’s feet and then I knelt at her side. It was not possible to check for any signs of life while she was lying on her front, so I rolled her over towards me. There was quite a lot of blood on the path and her hair was heavily soaked in it. I don’t recall seeing any facial injuries. I felt for a pulse at the neck but found none. It came as a shock when she raised herself up, and I too reacted by getting to my feet. It was at this point that I had something sharp pressed into the small of my back and I began to turn to try to see who was behind me. I was ordered not to turn around and was told if I was to say anything my sister would get the same. The man said something along the lines of ‘have you found it?’, as if to address another person. No reply came and then the next thing I knew was that the person had left me, and I turned at the sound of rustling foliage as they made their escape down into the woodland area. I gave him and his companion no more attention but picked up my jacket and ran over to the lodge, whereupon I asked Wilf Walker if he was on the phone. He said he wasn’t and asked me why I should enquire. I informed him that a woman had been attacked. He asked me to show him where and he followed me to the corner of the lodge. I pointed in the direction of where she lay. He said some of my work colleagues had come into the cemetery and we should check first to see if they had already called the emergency services. As we got to within a few yards of the chapel we were met by other workers carrying out sheets of asbestos and leaning them against the outside of the building ready for loading on to a Land Rover. They had arrived in Watts’s white van. Wilf asked them if they had seen anything or called the police or an ambulance. They said they hadn’t and one of them went off to make the call. Shortly afterwards Dawson arrived in the Land Rover. As I recall, Dawson made to go over to where she was, and at the same time shouted she was getting up. I had my back to her and turned to look. She was already on her feet and managed to take a few steps, perhaps two or three, before losing her balance and falling forwards, banging the left side of her forehead on the corner of a headstone. Dawson was slow to react and had taken only a couple of steps by the time she was falling over. Watts shouted to Dawson he should just leave her alone and not touch anything. We then stood outside the unconsecrated chapel near to the steps leading to the bottom footpath. It must have been about 10 to 15 minutes before a police officer, PC Ball, arrived on the scene and came over to where we were standing. He asked a few questions as to who had found her, what we were doing there, then asked where she was. We indicated, and he went over to her and had a look and then walked part of the way back before calling me over to where he waited. He asked if I had been the one who found her, and I said I was. He then went on to ask me to say where, and I told him, and even pointed out the place from where we stood. Finally, he asked if I had touched anything. I said I hadn’t except for turning her over, and I showed him my bloodstained hands. I asked if I could wash the blood off my hands, but he said no, it would be needed for forensics. We then went over to where the rest of the group stood. I seem to recall him asking a couple of questions – if any of them had seen or touched anything. They all answered no. I think it was Dawson who asked if it was all right for me to help them load the Land Rover and the policeman said it was. The policeman then went back and placed his tunic over the body before going to his car and making a call on the radio. It would be a good 15 to 20 minutes, at a guess, before anyone else arrived and maybe as much as another 5 to 10 minutes before a Detective Inspector Younger came to ask me the same questions that PC Ball had just asked. I gave him the same answers. He went back to the others for a brief moment and then came back with someone else in a suit. I was asked if I would be willing to go with them to the station for further questioning, which I agreed to do. I was led over to a blue and white police car where I sat in the back with one of the policemen, while the other got in the front with the driver. As we were about to go through the cemetery gates the ambulance arrived.
CHAPTER 7
Believing the Beebes
YOUTH ON MURDER CHARGE FOUND GUILTY
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