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Steve Keogh: Murder Unpacked

Exploring how murders are investigated.

Hosted by former Scotland Yard homicide detective Steve Keogh, Murder Unpacked explores murder investigations to understand how detectives think and work.

www.murderunpacked.com
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  • 5 episodes
  • Avg 14 min
  • English
  • Tuesday · 9 min

    Meet the Murder Team: The Senior Investigating Officer

    As I was running, I could feel my lungs burning and the lactic acid was starting to make my legs scream with pain. But there was no way he was getting away. For the last five minutes I’d been gaining on him, but each shot he fired back at me made me duck for cover. Then came my chance. As he sprinted across the next road, he failed to see the oncoming car. I saw him spin in the air like a cartwheel, landing in a heap on the floor. Although, somehow, he still had hold of the 9mm handgun, almost certainly the same one he’d used to dispatch his victim. I had no time to stop and think. I launched myself at him, kicking the gun from his hand. Then I threw all my weight into a right-hand cross that connected as sweet as a nut with his chin. He was knocked out cold. Before he had a chance to come to, I slapped the cuffs on him. Another killer caught, another case solved. Then I woke up. If the TV is to be believed, that would be just another day for me as a senior investigating officer. Thankfully, that couldn’t be further from the truth (which is lucky as I can’t run and I’m no fighter). So, if they aren’t chasing down killers and throwing themselves across car bonnets, what do they do? Well, a truer reflection of their role isn’t an action hero, it’s the conductor of an orchestra. The Senior Investigating Officer (SIO) plays a strategic role in an investigation. They don’t interview witnesses or interrogate suspects, in fact, they don’t do any of what we might think of as traditional detective work. So, yeah, pretty dull really. But, despite the lack of excitement, it’s one of the most important roles in any murder investigation, and they have the most influence on how successful the murder team is likely to be (or not). During these Meet the Murder Team articles I will introduce you to the various people who make up a murder investigation, and there are quite a few. In the UK murders aren’t investigated by individual detectives, it’s a team of anything from 20 to 100 officers, depending on the specific murder (although most will be at the lower end of that scale.) Each investigator will have a specific area that they’re responsible for. For instance, CCTV, phones, forensics or witnesses. They will be looking to gather the information and evidence from their area that, when brought together, can help solve the crime and convict those responsible. And this is where the SIO plays several very important roles. The first is making sure each of those officers knows what’s being asked of them. The CCTV officer has to know where to look for footage, what time parameters they need to cover and what on there they’re trying to find. The phones officer needs to know whose phone data to secure, how long back they should apply for it, which phone handsets to analyse and what it is they’re trying to prove. And that level of direction is required for every strand of evidence. If not, it would result in everyone running off in different directions, all doing whatever they think is best, not what’s best for the investigation. How do they get those instructions across? The answer is a written strategy. Every area of enquiry has its own document that outlines what is required from it. Where to look for evidence, how to look for it and what they’re trying to prove. If done properly, each of those strategy documents will take hours to complete. So, if you multiply that by each area of enquiry, it doesn’t leave much time for chasing down the killer. When I made the transition from detective sergeant to detective inspector, it was those hours sitting behind my desk I found the hardest. As a DS I’d be out there doing all the good stuff. One of the most rewarding times for me was arresting the suspects and getting to look them in the eye. As DI the closest I got was seeing the photo taken of them in custody. And of all the things I see in crime dramas, it’s that misrepresentation that annoys me the most. Now, don’t get me wrong, I get that it’s entertainment. If they did portray the truth, watching someone like Luther sat in an office for hours, banging away at his keyboard, is probably gonna damage their viewing figures. In fact, when I’ve been interviewed in the past, I often get asked what’s the worst crime drama on TV and, I will usually come back to Luther. Not because it’s badly acted, I actually really like Idris Elba, but because it’s just so blinking far-fetched. One national newspaper that interviewed me even used that as a headline “Murder Detective Names Worst Show on TV.” It did make me worry slightly if I ever were to cross paths with Mr Elba, that he may have got wind of me dissing his show. But we mix in very different circles, so that’s not likely to happen. Well, that’s what I thought, until I was invited to a production company to talk over some ideas for TV. Little did I know before I agreed that it was actually owned by the big man himself. To say I felt sheepish when I walked into their offices would be an understatement. Thankfully, other than a few pictures on the wall, I didn’t bump into him. I wasn’t worried about being star struck, more being struck by a star. Anyway, I’ve gone off at a real tangent there. Back to the role of the SIO. So, I’ve covered their first important role, that of the direction of the investigation, the second is decision-making. A murder investigation is, essentially, an exercise in decision-making. Every aspect involves a choice of how you carry it out. Who you interview. Where you look for CCTV. What items you submit to the lab. Who you treat as a suspect, how you arrest them…. I could go on but I’m sure you get the picture. For the SIO, who will be responsible for the majority of those decisions, it’s important that they record not only that they made that decision, but also why. And the reason why that’s so important? Well, as with every part of an investigation, it is open to scrutiny. Primarily from the defence lawyers of anyone who is prosecuted. Those criminal defence lawyers, who will be the best in the country, will be testing not only your evidence, but how you came to secure it. They will want to know exactly why you took the actions you did, and why you chose not to take others. It’s impossible to remember why you made a certain decision several months or even several years later. So, every important decision is recorded in a book known as a decision log. Each entry is dated, timed and signed, and available to the defence to later examine. Yet more paperwork. Yet more hours sitting in your office. So, when people ask me about my time as a senior murder detective, I have to prepare myself for the disappointed look in their faces, when I burst their bubble about what it really entails. But, and it’s a big but, there is one time when it’s important for the SIO not to be in the office. A point of the investigation that, for me, could influence how I understand the murder happened and how we moved forward. The crime scene. All crime scenes are photographed. Many are videoed. But in my experience, you can’t get a true feel for a scene from those. For me it was crucial to walk around a scene to get a true feel for what had happened. To live it. To breathe it. One of the last murders I investigated involved a man who attacked and killed his grandad. By the time I came on duty, the scene had already been imaged, all of which I had access to. But, as I always did, I went to the scene myself, put on a paper suit, latex gloves and overshoes, to see it with my own eyes. When I did, I found blood spatter that had been completely missed by the photography. The forensic scientist had made the decision to use the images to make their interpretations of the scene. After finding that blood I insisted they visited the scene and do the work there, not from photographs. Now, I’m not saying that one discovery changed the whole investigation, it probably didn’t. But it could have been vital and highlighted the importance of not taking for granted that the imagery captures all you need to know. And it was that aspect of the SIO role that was one of the most satisfying for me. Probably because it felt like proper detective work. The sort of work Luther finds himself doing. Until Next time, take care. What role would you like to hear about? Let me know in the comments. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.murderunpacked.com

  • August 24 · 21 min

    The Soham Murders: The Ones You Carry

    As we made our way through Great Ormond Street Hospital, it took a while to find the place we were looking for. It always did. No matter which hospital I visited, the mortuary always seemed hidden away. And for good reason. It’s the last department anyone wants to think about. Especially here. As many times as I’d walked similar corridors, this felt different. It was different. When I entered the room, the sights and smells were the same as every other mortuary I’d entered before. But not like this. Then I saw him. Three years old. Not much bigger than a baby. If I close my eyes now, I can still see his body lying on that metal table. None of my training had prepared me for this. Yet here I was. Ten-year-old best friends Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman lived just a few streets apart in Soham, a small Cambridgeshire market town surrounded by open countryside. On Sunday 4 August 2002, Jessica went to Holly’s house and spent the afternoon there. Holly’s family were having a barbecue and had guests over. The girls played on the computer in Holly’s bedroom before coming downstairs to eat with the rest of the family. Just after 5pm, Holly’s mum, Nicola, took a photograph of them wearing matching Manchester United shirts. After eating, the girls went back upstairs and continued playing on the computer. Later that evening, Nicola called upstairs for them to come down and say goodbye to the guests who were leaving. There was no reply. She called again. Still nothing. Nicola went upstairs expecting to find them in Holly’s bedroom. The room was empty. The girls had left the house, but nobody knew when they had gone or where they had gone. Jessica’s parents were contacted, but the girls weren’t there either. Family and friends began looking for them, searching around the house before checking places they thought the girls might have gone. As the evening wore on, their concern grew and, at around 10pm, the police were called. Local uniformed officers attended and began a missing person enquiry. They needed to establish when and where the girls had last been seen, obtain their descriptions, identify places they might have gone and understand whether their disappearance was out of character. It was. Officers began searching Soham and the surrounding countryside. A police helicopter was deployed, along with a dog handler, traffic officers and four-wheel-drive police vehicles. Local residents also came out to help. But despite their efforts, Holly and Jessica were not found that night. The following day, the search expanded beyond a local enquiry. Officers began arriving from surrounding forces to help. Public appeals increased, bringing in a significant amount of information. This included several potential sightings of the girls, each of which needed to be followed up urgently. One local resident reported seeing Holly and Jessica between 6.30pm and 6.40pm on Sunday evening. He said the girls had stopped outside his house to ask whether his partner, a teaching assistant from their primary school was at home. After telling them she was away, he watched them walk away towards St Andrew’s Church. As news of the case spread, more members of the public came to Soham to help with the searches until there were hundreds of people there offering their support. As part of the investigation, Family Liaison Officers (FLOs) were assigned to the Wells and Chapman families. After a couple of days, the enquiry developed into a major investigation, with resources reflecting the growing concern for the girls’ welfare. An incident room was established to provide a central point for information coming in from the public. A dedicated intelligence cell was set up to assess the growing amount of information and build a picture of the girls’ lives, people of potential interest and any links between them. The investigation now included house-to-house enquiries, examination of CCTV, vehicle checks, tracing witnesses and assessing every potential sighting of the girls. Specialist advisers coordinated searches of homes, gardens, business premises, waterways and open ground using police dogs, divers, aerial support and specially trained search officers. The photograph Nicola Wells had taken just before the girls disappeared became the image used in national appeals, showing exactly what they looked like and the clothing they had been wearing. Among the information coming into the police was a report from a taxi driver who said he had seen the driver of a dark green saloon car travelling erratically along the A142 from Soham towards Newmarket. He described the driver repeatedly turning towards the back seats and appearing to struggle with two children inside the car. The sighting became a major line of enquiry. Investigators were working to several theories of what may have happened to the girls. One was that harm had come to them. Detectives began identifying and checking known sex offenders in the area, as well as anyone who might pose a risk to children. Another line of enquiry centred on the girls having used Holly’s computer before leaving the house. Had they met someone via the internet? They also considered that the girls might be being held against their will. Detectives made a direct appeal, urging whoever was responsible to release them. The parents of both Holly and Jessica also appeared on national television, appealing for the safe return of their daughters. Among the many reports received by police were numerous potential sightings. One led detectives to the local sports centre, where CCTV confirmed Holly and Jessica had been there at around 6.17pm on the evening they disappeared. It gave investigators a fixed point from which they could begin plotting the girls’ movements using CCTV and witness accounts. About a week after the girls disappeared, investigators filmed a reconstruction using two girls of similar age and appearance, dressed in similar clothing, to walk the route Holly and Jessica were known to have taken. They hoped it would prompt the memories of anyone who had been in the area that evening. By now, the appeals were generating thousands of calls. There was a huge response to appeals relating to the dark green car and the two girls reportedly seen inside. One report appeared particularly significant. A jogger near Newmarket, the town the car had been seen heading towards, told police he had heard screaming on the night the girls went missing and had since noticed two areas of disturbed ground. The area was cordoned off and a systematic search began, including excavation of the soil. However, it was established that the disturbed ground was unconnected to the girls and had most likely been caused by animals. The sighting by the taxi driver was also ruled out when phone analysis showed he had been travelling earlier than the girls had been seen on CCTV at the sports centre. Examination of Holly’s computer also enabled detectives to rule out the possibility that the girls had arranged to meet someone via the internet. Whilst detectives continued working through thousands of reports, eliminating one line of enquiry after another, two names began appearing with increasing frequency. Ian Huntley. Maxine Carr. Earlier on I spoke about a local resident who said he had spoken with Holly and Jessica. That was Ian Huntley. The teaching assistant the girls were said to have been asking after was Maxine Carr. As the last known person to have spoken with Holly and Jessica, Huntley became central to the investigation. Included in the information about Huntley was a report that he had previously been investigated in Grimsby in connection with allegations involving underage girls. Detectives then began liaising with Humberside Police to establish the circumstances surrounding those enquiries. Huntley had also become a familiar face in the media, giving several television and newspaper interviews about the girls’ disappearance. It was those appearances that prompted people to contact police with information about his background. The fact Huntley was the last known person to have spoken with the girls, together with information about his background and his repeated media appearances, made him a person of increasing interest to the investigation. However, there was not enough evidence at this stage to treat him as a suspect. As with all the potential theories police were investigating, detectives would also have been looking to establish whether he could be eliminated from the enquiry. However, unlike the green car and the internet theory, there was nothing that could exclude him as being linked to the girls’ disappearance. To the contrary, as more information came into the enquiry, his name kept cropping up. Careful consideration was given to how detectives should proceed. The decision was made to invite Huntley and Carr to attend separate police stations to provide formal witness statements. They also consented to searches of their home and Huntley’s car. During those searches, detectives discovered the burnt remains of Holly and Jessica’s Manchester United shirts, along with other items of clothing, concealed in a wheelie bin at Soham Village College, where Huntley worked as caretaker. That discovery completely changed the direction of the investigation. During the early hours of 17th August, Huntley and Carr were arrested. The discovery of the girls’ clothing dramatically increased detectives’ fears that Holly and Jessica had come to serious harm. Their priority now was to locate them. They focused on the home of Huntley and Carr, places they had access to and built a picture of their movements over the previous two weeks, particularly in the period after the girls disappeared. They examined call data, financial transactions and movements of Huntley’s car. Within around eight hours of the arrests the breakthrough discovery was made. However, it wasn’t made by the police. Roughly seventeen miles east of Soham, close to RAF Lakenheath, a gamekeeper discovered the bodies of two girls in an irrigation ditch. These were quickly identified as Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. Attention now turned to establishing how and when the girls died, while examining the scene and the bodies for forensic opportunities. Urgent forensic post-mortems were carried out. The post-mortem I attended at Great Ormond Street wasn’t for Holly and Jessica. It was for a three-year-old boy whose injuries were described by the paediatric pathologist as the worst he had seen in his career. He described them as the equivalent of being hit by a car travelling at thirty miles per hour. Those injuries had been inflicted by his uncle, who had been looking after him for the night. Why? Because his nephew had wet the bed. As I say those words years later, I still get a churn in my stomach. At the time, as I stood looking his broken body, those emotions were even stronger. A mixture of sadness, anger and an absolute determination that this little boy and his mother would get the justice they deserved. When I returned to the office and briefed the team, I could see those same emotions reflected back at me. From the Family Liaison Officers who would now be spending time with his mother, those who would be speaking with witnesses, and those who would be interviewing the man responsible. The most important thing was this. No matter how we were feeling, it couldn’t affect the job we had to do. If we allowed our emotions to take over, mistakes were more likely to happen. And when you investigate murders, you can’t afford those mistakes. Not when the best defence barristers in the country will later dissect every decision you made, looking for lapses in standards or breaches of procedure. So how do you stop emotion getting in the way? For me, I don’t think there’s any magic answer. You acknowledge those feelings exist, then you push them down. You compartmentalise. Then you focus entirely on the job in front of you. People often ask whether detectives receive counselling. The answer is yes, it’s available if officers want or need it. In truth, though, I only knew a couple of detectives who took up the offer. Most of us just got on with the job and didn’t spend much time talking about what we’d seen. Looking back, I’m not sure that was always healthy. I only realised recently that the things you bury are still there. On the first episode of my TV series, Secrets of a Murder Detective, we featured the murders of Sian Blake and her two sons Zachary and Amon, which our team investigated. They had gone missing and later found murdered. As part of the episode, a colleague and I talked through the investigation, step by step. When I started to recount receiving the phone call from the scene telling us all three had been found dead, I suddenly became emotional and had to stop. That response shocked me, as I never reacted like that in my career. On reflection, I believe it’s because at the time of doing the job I was focused on the outcome. I didn’t give myself time to fully feel the impact of that news. I was in work mode. But when talking on camera, I was completely open to that emotion. I thought I’d dealt with those emotions, but I’d really just buried them. It made me realise talking about those experiences is probably healthier than burying them. I can’t speak for every detective. We all deal with these things differently. But I do know this. Those emotions never stopped me doing the job. If anything, they gave me even greater determination to get justice for the victims. Having spoken to colleagues over the years, I know many of them felt the same. I have no doubt many of the detectives investigating Holly and Jessica’s disappearance were going through exactly those same emotions. For two weeks they worked every waking hour, trying every avenue, using every investigative technique and putting everything they had into bringing those girls home safely. But as the days passed, those hopes would have started to fade. I’ve been there. Missing children. Hoping they’re alive, while gradually coming to the realisation that the longer they remain missing, the less likely that becomes. Then came the call. Two bodies had been found. Even before the formal identifications were made, I suspect many of the detectives already knew in their hearts the bodies were Holly and Jessica. The official confirmation would simply have confirmed what they had already begun to accept. What would have made it even harder was the thought of their parents. Many of the detectives would have been parents themselves. I know that whenever I dealt with cases involving children, I couldn’t help thinking about my own. Again, those feelings had to be pushed aside so the investigation could continue. One aspect that often gets overlooked is how that news would have been broken to the families. It would almost certainly have been the Family Liaison Officers. First and foremost, they are investigators whose role is to gather information that can assist the enquiry. But they are also there for the family, keeping them informed, explaining each stage of the investigation and helping them through processes no parent ever imagines facing. Of all the detectives involved in a murder enquiry, theirs is undoubtedly one of the hardest roles. They build a relationship with the family. They share their hopes. Then, in cases like this, they are the ones who have to take that hope away. I think you can probably imagine just how difficult that is. But apart from the obvious emotional impact child murders have on an investigation team, what else makes them different? In many respects, they don’t. Detectives are still looking for the same things. Witnesses. CCTV. Forensic opportunities. Anything that helps establish what happened and who was responsible. One area that is different, though, is the post-mortem examination. In adult murders, these are carried out by Home Office approved forensic pathologists. In the case of children, they’re carried out by specialist paediatric forensic pathologists. The reason is simple. Children aren’t just smaller adults. Their bodies are still developing, and injuries have to be interpreted differently. Understanding how a child’s body grows, develops and responds to injury requires specialist knowledge. That expertise can make a huge difference, not only in establishing how a child died, but also in identifying injuries that might easily be misunderstood by someone without that experience. Another difference is the wider impact of the investigation. The murder of a child sends shockwaves through a community in a way few other crimes do. As part of our enquiries, we would often visit the child’s school and speak to pupils, sometimes in a classroom, sometimes in an assembly. We were looking for information, but we also had a responsibility to provide reassurance. If children do come forward as witnesses, they have to be treated with great care. The way information is obtained from them is very different to an adult witness. Detectives use specially trained officers, working at a much slower pace and always mindful of the lasting impact the process can have on them. The pressure on the investigation is different too. If a child is missing, it has to be assumed from the outset they are vulnerable. Every hour counts and, the longer they remain missing, the greater the risk of harm. That urgency is felt by everyone involved in the investigation. It drives decisions, resources and the pace of the enquiry from the very beginning. People often think detectives investigate child murders differently. In truth, once it’s established that they’re dealing with a murder, the investigative principles are much the same. It’s the emotional impact, the vulnerability of the victim and a handful of specialist areas that make them different. Huntley was charged with the murders of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. Following a trial at the Old Bailey, he was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment, with a minimum term of forty years. Maxine Carr was convicted of perverting the course of justice after providing Huntley with a false alibi and was sentenced to three and a half years’ imprisonment. The investigation also exposed serious failures in the way police forces shared information about people who posed a risk to children. The Bichard inquiry led to significant changes to police intelligence sharing and vetting procedures. When I look back at my career as a murder detective, one of the things I’m most proud of is the dedication I saw in my colleagues and the sacrifices they made in the pursuit of justice. That was never more evident than in child murders, which were undoubtedly the hardest investigations of my career. You learn to compartmentalise. You have to. Otherwise, you couldn’t do the job. The thing is, those emotions never really leave you. The investigation may end. The trial may end. But some cases stay with you for the rest of your life. Thanks for reading or listening to Murder Unpacked. If you’d like more insights into murder investigation and the chance to join the conversation, subscribe below. Until next time, take care. You’re the Detective Could you put your emotions to one side and still do the job? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.murderunpacked.com

  • August 24 · 17 min

    Rachel Nickell: The Detective's Trap

    If I look back over the murders that have shaped modern Britain, few victims are as immediately recognisable as Rachel Nickell. As I write this, I immediately picture that image of a happy, loving mother. More than three decades have passed since Rachel was murdered. In that time, tens of thousands of other people have lost their lives to homicide in the UK. Yet Rachel’s case remains one of the few almost everyone remembers. So, what is it about Rachel and her murder that has made it remain such a part of our nation’s psyche? Part of the answer is undoubtedly that familiar image of Rachel smiling into the camera. But I suspect an even bigger reason lies in what happened after her death. On the morning of her murder, 23-year-old Rachel was walking the family golden retriever, Molly, on Wimbledon Common with her two-year-old son, Alex. A route they regularly took to exercise the dog. What should have been nothing more than a routine walk in the park became one of Britain’s most notorious murders. Rachel was subjected to a sustained and frenzied knife attack, suffering 49 stab wounds to her upper body and neck. She was also sexually assaulted. Perhaps the most heartbreaking aspect of the case was that Alex witnessed the attack. When he was found, he was still clinging to his mother’s body, pleading with her to wake up. When the police arrived, it would have been immediately obvious they were dealing with an exceptionally unusual murder scene. I doubt many, if any, of those officers had witnessed anything like it. This wasn’t the sort of place where you expected to find such a brutal attack. Wimbledon Common was somewhere people went to walk their dogs, take their children or go for a run. An attack of this nature was almost unimaginable. That all of this happened in front of a young child would also have made the scene emotionally difficult for those first responders. I mean, what do they say to Alex in those circumstances? How do they comfort him? Even if those officers were parents themselves, that would have been incredibly tough. In fact, this would have been emotionally challenging for all involved, even the detectives, many of whom would have witnessed sights most people can’t comprehend. But there’s something about crimes involving children, that can affect the most hardened of us. Having seen the injuries sustained by Rachel and knowing what was witnessed by Alex, I have no doubt they were resolved to do everything they could to catch and convict her killer. When those detectives first arrived, they would have realised how difficult that task was going to be. This had happened in a huge park, with countless ways in and out. In 1992, CCTV was far less prevalent than it is today. In an area such as this? It would have been almost non-existent. DNA profiling was still in its early years and nowhere near as sensitive as it is today. I vividly remember how limited it was compared with the end of my career, when simply touching someone could leave an identifiable trace. At that early stage, the only apparent witness to the attack was a traumatised two-year-old boy. It would be incredibly unlikely that he would be able to identify whoever was responsible. For the detectives leading the enquiry, the immediate question wasn’t, “How are we going to solve this murder?” It was simply, “Where do we begin?” Something I see regularly is people misunderstanding how murder investigations work. Now, that probably stems from how they’re portrayed on screen, which is nearly always wrong. Contrary to what television dramas would have you believe, they don’t simply tell officers to go out and solve the murder. That would be chaos. Every line of enquiry needs to have a purpose. To give the enquiry direction, detectives begin by asking what is most likely to have happened. Those scenarios could revolve around a suspect, a motive or both. How detailed they are will depend on how much information you have at the time. The best way to demonstrate that principle is to apply it to Rachel’s murder. In those initial stages there was little evidence available to detectives or clear motive for the attack. It was the responsibility of the senior investigating officer to formulate hypotheses, which is police jargon for what I think of as working scenarios. At that early stage, there simply wasn’t enough information to form detailed hypotheses, so I would expect them to have looked something like this: 1. Rachel was killed by someone known to her 2. Rachel was killed by someone unknown to her Whatever the circumstances of her murder, the offender had to fall into one of those two broad categories. Conducting the investigation in this way would avoid focusing too narrowly on one explanation at such an early stage. It also gives every detective a clear purpose. Instead of carrying out random enquiries, each officer knows exactly what they’re trying to establish or eliminate. For the hypothesis that Rachel was killed by someone she knew, police would look closely at her life. Was there someone, or something, that might explain why she was murdered? This would include examining her relationships, family, work and any potential disputes. For the hypothesis that Rachel was killed by someone she didn’t know, detectives would focus more on the area. Who used the Common? Were there known offenders nearby? Had there been previous offences or similar attacks? The purpose of hypotheses isn’t to select one scenario and then set out to prove it. Instead, an investigation will have multiple hypotheses, each of which can be developed, eliminated or new ones added as more information comes in. As evidence begins to emerge, some hypotheses become less likely while others become stronger. Eventually one may stand out above the rest. That’s when detectives adopt what’s known as a working hypothesis. From that point on, every significant decision is likely to be influenced by it. That’s perfectly normal. In fact, it’s essential. The danger comes when detectives stop asking themselves one simple question: “What if we’re wrong?” And that’s where the detective’s trap begins. Whenever a female is murdered, police will look at her relationships, and for very good reason. It’s a sad truth that in the UK, if a woman is the victim of homicide, there is a 50% chance it will be at the hands of their partner or ex-partner. Therefore, Rachel’s relationship with her boyfriend Andre would have become a line of investigation for the detectives. That isn’t an indication that they suspected he was responsible. But they needed to eliminate him as a possible suspect, which they were quickly able to do. Having looked closely at Rachel’s life and the people in it, investigators found no evidence that she was killed by someone known to her. So, their attention had to focus on the Common itself and, as I said earlier, by the very nature of that area, it was going to be challenging to identify their suspect. They needed to know what was happening in the park. Were there previous incidents? There can often be precursors to attacks like this, instances of incident exposure or less serious sexual assaults. Were there any concerning individuals around at the time or any that regularly frequented the Common? In the residential areas close by, were there known offenders or intelligence on potential perpetrators? This resulted in a substantial number of men being interviewed or investigated. But they were getting no closer to identifying Rachel’s killer. They then turned to an investigative tool often used in particularly difficult cases. They sought the help of a forensic psychologist, Paul Britton, who produced a criminal profile of the type of person he believed the killer to be. His profile included characteristics such as a male in his 20s or 30s who lived close to the Common. A loner with poor or unsuccessful relationships with women. Someone who fantasised about sexual violence and was obsessed with knives or the occult. He was likely to be sexually dysfunctional or inexperienced and likely to present as awkward rather than overtly dangerous. So, how useful is that to an investigation? Criminal profiles can help prioritise enquiries or generate leads. However, they should never be used to directly identify a suspect. They’re not evidence of who the killer is. They’re a suggestion of where to look first. One of the potential suspects police had been looking at was Colin Stagg, a 29-year-old man, who lived close to the common. He regularly walked his dog there and, after public appeals, witnesses said they saw him or someone like him, on the common around the time of Rachel’s murder. In terms of grounds to arrest on suspicion of murder, what I’ve just said there is more than enough. For an arrest to be made police must suspect two things. The first is that a crime has been committed, one clearly had. The second is to suspect that person of being guilty. Now, the bar for suspicion is low. You don’t have to know or even believe a person is guilty. Suspicion is enough. So, Stagg was arrested and his home searched. There, police found some material relating to paganism. The picture their investigation built of him was of a loner, socially isolated, unsuccessful with women and they identified that he had shared sexual fantasies with a woman he’d met via a lonely-hearts column. If you’re thinking that sounds familiar, you’re not alone. It sounded familiar to the detectives too. Here we have a local man, who regularly frequents the common. He may have been at or near the scene of Rachel’s murder and he shows many of the characteristics of the profile. I can genuinely see why detectives became increasingly interested in Stagg. The more they learned about him, the more he appeared to resemble the type of offender Paul Britton had described. The problem was, if he was Rachel’s killer, they had no direct evidence to link him to the crime. If they were going to prove the case against him, they would need to try something a bit different. So, they took the unusual step of introducing an undercover female officer, whose task was to gain Stagg’s trust and get him to confess to the crime. I say unusual step because it is just that. In my 30 years in the police, I was involved in very few operations where ‘UCs’ were used. They are such an intrusion into people’s lives that police must have strong grounds for using them. The UC, known as Lizzie James, began corresponding with Stagg, they spoke on the phone and she met up with him. Their communications included Lizzie sharing increasingly extreme sexual fantasies. The hope being Stagg would do the same, which he did. By Lizzie becoming more explicit in what she was sharing, the hope was Stagg would let his guard down. He may even use the killing to impress her. That it’s not just fantasy, that he’s acted this out. However, throughout their relationship, he never once admitted to Rachel’s murder, even when asked about it directly. In fact, he told Lizzie he hadn’t done it. Despite his lack of an admission and no evidence directly linking him to the crime, Stagg was charged with Rachel’s murder. But before the case had a chance to be put to a jury, the judge dismissed it. He was highly critical of how the investigation was conducted, particularly the undercover operation. The prosecution then offered no further evidence against Stagg. So, how could an investigation conducted by experienced, motivated detectives end up here? From my perspective it’s quite clear what happened. They were convinced Stagg was guilty, so went looking for information to prove that. The criminal profile contained elements of Stagg’s character. When they searched his home, they found pagan material The undercover operation then set out to get Stagg to confess. What I’m describing there is confirmation bias. Where you go looking for information to prove you’re right, and ignore information that says otherwise, such as Stagg’s denial. When it comes to detective work, that is the trap you must avoid. In fact, it’s an investigator’s worst enemy. That’s why, when you form hypotheses, and especially when you identify one as the most likely, you need to be careful. Having a working hypothesis isn’t wrong. In fact, it’s a fundamental part of a murder investigation. Confirmation bias doesn’t come from forming one, it happens when you fail to properly test it. The best way to do that is to keep asking that question, “what if we’re wrong?” And the repercussions for not doing so, can be dire. As we saw with Colin Stagg, people can end up being prosecuted and even convicted, for crimes they didn’t do. And there can be even worse consequences for looking in the wrong direction. Whilst you are chasing after an innocent person, the real killer remains at large. About 18 months after Rachel was murdered, a young mother, Samantha Bissett and her four-year-old daughter, Jazmine, were both murdered in their home in Plumstead, South-East London. Samantha received a significant number of stab wounds to her body and neck, as well as other, post-mortem injuries. Jazmine was sexually assaulted and smothered to death. The man identified and convicted of those murders was Robert Napper. In 2006, 24 years after Rachel’s murder, Napper was linked to her killing using DNA techniques not available at the time of the initial investigation. Napper was subsequently charged and convicted of killing Rachel. Although, this was manslaughter by diminished responsibility, rather than murder. Essentially meaning he accepted he carried out the act, but at the time was suffering from what is known as defect of the mind which affected his ability to make decisions. In terms of the consequences for falling into the trap of confirmation bias. For not asking yourself if you’re wrong. I don’t think there could be a more extreme example. That’s why the Rachel Nickell investigation remains so important. Because it reminds us that the most dangerous moment in any investigation isn’t when you don’t know who did it. It’s when you think you do. Thanks for reading or listening to Murder Unpacked. If you’d like more insights into murder investigation and the chance to join the conversation, subscribe below. Until next time, take care. You’re the Detective What would you have done to test whether Colin Stagg really was your killer? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.murderunpacked.com

  • August 24 · 18 min

    Harold Shipman: Something Not Quite Right

    Harold Shipman: Can We Rule It Out? Every six weeks, we became the on-call murder team for South London. For seven days, twenty-four hours a day, we would respond to all murders in our area. That didn’t mean we were sat in a car, ready to put the lights and sirens on. We’d be getting on with our existing investigations. Gathering evidence, preparing for court, doing whatever was needed to progress our cases. For the duration of that week, we had a mobile phone. If we were needed, that’s where the call would come. It was known as The Phone. It might be that The Phone didn’t go off at all during your shift. It might go off in the first hour. When it did, the hairs on the back of my neck would stand up. Even after years of doing this, I still got that same reaction because I had no idea what was about to come my way. Whenever I answered, I could feel the tension growing in my stomach. Was it a shooting? A stabbing? Or was it the call I dreaded the most? “I’ve got a death…. And there’s something not quite right about it.” Harold Shipman was born in Nottingham in 1946. He was considered bright academically and was close to his mother. However, when he was 17, she died of lung cancer, after receiving morphine injections for pain. In 1970 he qualified as a doctor from the Leeds School of Medicine and initially worked in hospitals. In 1974, he became a GP in Todmorden, West Yorkshire. Around this time, he had developed an addiction to the powerful opioid painkiller pethidine, and between 1975 and 1976, he took to forging prescriptions to feed that addiction. This was discovered and led to him being convicted of obtaining pethidine by deception, forging NHS prescriptions and unlawfully possessing pethidine. The General Medical Council issued a formal warning but took no further disciplinary action. In 1977, the year after his conviction, he took up a GP position at Donneybrook Medical Centre in Hyde, Cheshire. Shipman began to build himself a reputation as a respected doctor. He was seen as particularly good with elderly patients and would frequently visit them in their homes. He became a trusted and popular figure in the Hyde community. To his patients he was known as Dr Shipman. To his friends and colleagues, he was simply known by his middle name, Fred. What none of them knew was that he was murdering his patients, nearly all of them elderly women. He would inject them with diamorphine, another powerful opioid painkiller, then certify their deaths as by natural causes. He would also encourage relatives that their bodies be cremated. A practice that continued unchecked for years. That was until 1998, when another Hyde GP, Dr Linda Reynolds, became concerned. There appeared to be an unusually high number of deaths among Shipman’s patients, along with the number of cremation forms he was asking Dr Reynolds’ practice to countersign. Dr Reynolds raised her concerns with the local coroner, who then asked Greater Manchester Police to conduct a confidential enquiry. They in turn appointed a detective inspector to lead an investigation into the suspicions surrounding Shipman. Detectives examined several recent deaths certified by Shipman, reviewed medical records, spoke to funeral directors and staff at the local crematorium, and interviewed Dr Linda Reynolds about the concerns she had raised. They also sought advice from a Home Office forensic pathologist, who concluded there was insufficient evidence to justify exhuming any of the bodies. Shipman was also interviewed by detectives. He denied any wrongdoing, explaining that he cared for an older, sicker patient population than neighbouring practices. He also said he frequently treated patients at home rather than admitting them to hospital, so was more likely to be present when they died. Detectives identified no evidence of criminality, and the investigation was closed in April 1998. Over the following ten weeks, Shipman went on to kill three more of his patients. The third of those was Kathleen Grundy, an 81-year-old widow, former Mayoress of Hyde and well known in the local community. Despite her age, she remained active and independent. On 24 June 1998, she was found dead in her home after Shipman had visited earlier that day. He certified the cause of death as old age. Several weeks later, her daughter, Angela Woodruff, a solicitor, was contacted by another solicitor acting on behalf of Shipman. He explained that a new will had been discovered. The will, apparently prepared shortly before Kathleen’s death, left almost her entire estate, worth around £386,000, to Dr Harold Shipman. Angela was left nothing apart from a small amount of jewellery. Angela immediately believed the will was a forgery. She knew her mother had intended her estate to pass to her family and was also suspicious that the will had been typed, even though Kathleen did not own a typewriter. She reported her concerns to the police. As detectives investigated the will, they also began to question the circumstances of Kathleen’s death. Her body was exhumed and a post-mortem examination found lethal levels of diamorphine. Further enquiries revealed that Shipman had altered her medical records after her death to suggest her health had been declining. Over the following months, detectives exhumed a total of twelve bodies as they re-examined deaths previously certified as natural. The findings revealed a pattern consistent with murder and provided detectives with evidence that Shipman had caused the deaths of his patients. Shipman was charged with fifteen counts of murder, plus the forgery of Kathleen Grundy’s will. In January 2000 he was convicted of all offences and sentenced to life imprisonment. Now the enquiry into the true extent of his murders would begin. “I’ve got a death…. And there’s something not quite right about it.” I lost count of the times I heard variations of that sentence. In my twelve years investigating murders, it ran into the hundreds. And every single time I knew exactly why I was being asked it. In the UK, when someone dies unexpectedly, the police will often need to attend. Their role is to establish the circumstances of the death and determine whether there is anything to suggest that somebody else was responsible. The officers initially tasked with making that assessment are usually local uniform, as it’s them who deal with the calls that come into the police. So, they’ll turn up to the scene of the death and, essentially, begin an investigation. They will ask questions of whoever is present. Establish the circumstances of the death itself, the timeline and whether there may be an obvious cause. They will seek to understand their medical history, lifestyle, habits and relationships. They will assess the scene itself, to see if there’s anything out of place that may suggest a crime has occurred. What they are looking to do is rule out third party involvement. To be able to satisfy themselves and, ultimately, the coroner, that nobody is culpable for the death. But what if they can’t reach that point? What if there’s something that stops them being able to make that call? Well, in those circumstances, a detective would be called to the scene, so they can make their own assessment. Detectives tend to have more experience in investigations. They are trained to ask questions, assess scenes and make decisions, often with limited information. And they will be asking themselves the same question: can we rule out third party involvement? The first thing they will do is to ask the previous officers what they’ve done. Who have they spoken to? What did they say? What have you found out about the deceased’s history? Then they will begin making their own assessments. But what if they can’t be sure? What if there’s something about the circumstances of the death that just doesn’t sit right with them? That’s the point they declare this a suspicious death and a call would come into us. And why did I dread these calls? Well, with a shooting or a stabbing, it’s clear a crime has been committed. At that point, my instincts kick into gear. I know exactly what needs to be done, and I get on with doing it. But when I was called to a scene where nobody was quite sure, I knew the pressure would be on me. If I made the wrong call, it literally meant someone getting away with murder. As an experienced homicide detective, I knew that murders aren’t always obvious. It may be that the method used to kill didn’t leave behind obvious signs: poisoning, suffocation, internal injuries. Alternatively, the scene could be staged to hide a murder. To make it look accidental or even suicide. Did they fall, did they jump or were they pushed? But here’s the thing. My job wasn’t to decide whether it was a murder. It was to treat it as if it was until it can be proven one way or the other. In many ways that makes things much simpler. The problem with deaths like these is that there may be no obvious signs of violence. No forced entry. No weapon. No witnesses. Just someone who has died unexpectedly. If you decide too quickly that nothing is wrong, you may miss a murder. So, how would I approach a scene like this? For me, there is no secret ingredient to being an effective murder detective. It’s about being methodical. Taking your time to think things through logically. In my mind, it would look something like this. I’d always start with the deceased. Is there anything I can work out from physically looking at them that might give an indication of not only how they died, but the circumstances around it? There were countless different situationa I found myself in but, in general, if a suspicious death wasn’t obviously homicide, there were four scenarios I was potentially presented with: natural causes, accident, suicide or unknown. Whichever it was, I would be looking for signs that either supported or contradicted that conclusion. For instance, if it was a fall where injuries had been received, were they all consistent with the circumstances? Somebody may fall from a height, but if they show signs of defensive injuries to their arms, that may tell a different story. Likewise, if natural causes seemed the likeliest explanation, but they had injuries such as bruising or a head wound, what could that indicate? There are far too many scenarios to list them all, but I’m sure you get the picture. As well as what I could physically see, I’d want to know their medical history. Is there anything there that could point to a cause of death and, if so, does what I can see align with that? Then I’d be taking in what the scene itself might tell me. Are there signs of a disturbance, forced entry, a clean-up or unnatural tidiness? Then what do witnesses say? Are their accounts credible? Are they consistent? Can they be corroborated? The timeline is important too. When you regularly see dead bodies, you begin to recognise signs that can indicate how long someone may have been dead. For instance, there’s a process called lividity, which is essentially gravity acting on the blood after death. If that process is well established, it may suggest the body has been lying in that position for a number of hours. Does that fit with what I’m being told? And probably the most important area, and one that might not be immediately obvious to others, is the history of the victim. Are they in a relationship? If so, what do we know about it? The three biggest signs for me would be suggestions of a coercive relationship, a history of violence or a major change in circumstances, such as separation or pregnancy. If any of those existed, it would make me dig deeper. As I go through this thought process, I’m essentially working towards one of three outcomes. The first is that his death is non-suspicious, meaning responsibility for reporting it to the coroner, remains with local police. The next is that I’m satisfied this is most likely a murder, in which case it would then become a homicide investigation. The third is where I can’t be sure one way of the other. In that instance, we carry on treating it as suspicious death and arrange for a special post-mortem examination to be carried out by a forensic pathologist. In my experience, it would be at that stage that most deaths could be called one way of the other. One thing, though. There can sometimes be a difference between what you suspect, and what you can confidently show. You’d sometimes get a gut feeling. Maybe from something you’ve seen. Maybe from something you haven’t seen. But as with many aspects of detective work, you can’t make definitive calls on hunches, mostly because they can be wrong. I was called to a suspicious death in Woolwich, South-East London. When I arrived I was presented with a scene in an old bike shed. It was a place the homeless used for shelter when the weather wasn’t so good. Inside was a deceased man, who was a known local drinker. As a suspicious death, the shed was treated as a crime scene with cordon tape around it. I went inside wearing overshoes, a paper suit and gloves. The shed was absolutely littered with rubbish and empty bottles and cans of alcohol, and the man was laying on a rotten old mattress. The smell was awful, and made me slightly gag (no I never got used to it). The man looked like he could’ve been asleep. There were no obvious injuries on him. He’d recently been arrested and the records showed he wasn’t in good health. The person that found him was another drunk sleeping in there, and when he woke up he couldn’t rouse his mate and realised he was dead. There was nothing to contradict what he was saying. Intelligence checks on both the deceased man and the witness raised no concerns. All-in-all, it very much pointed to natural causes, likely linked to heavy drinking. But as I couldn’t be sure, I wasn’t happy to call it as such. So, a special post-mortem was arranged. I went along, completely prepared for a quick confirmation of what I thought had happened. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The man had severe internal injuries consistent with having been stamped to death. His mate had failed to tell us about the other drinker who’d been there that night and had killed him after an alcohol-fuelled argument. I was very glad the evidence-based process we followed meant I didn’t declare that death non-suspicious. Had I done so, a dangerous criminal could have remained free. Shipman’s conviction for fifteen murders made him Britain’s most prolific convicted serial killer. But those deaths really were the tip of the iceberg. The enquiry that investigated his working history revealed the true scale of his offending. The number of patients he murdered was likely to be around 250. Every one of those deaths left a family behind. It meant hundreds lost the last years with their mum or dad. Probably thousands of grandchildren never got to know their nan or granddad. And many of those will ask the question, how could this be allowed to happen? The system I worked to was one designed to identify murders that might not seem immediately obvious. But no system is perfect. The deaths of most of Shipman’s victims would never have been brought to the attention of the police, prior to the intervention of Dr Reynolds. Those that were would immediately have appeared to be non-suspicious. Whether by chance or design, his method of killing avoided the very system designed to detect murder. But in the end, it wasn’t the murders that brought him down. It was his greed. Thanks for reading or listening to Murder Unpacked. If you'd like more insights into murder investigation and the chance to join the conversation, subscribe below. Until next time, take care. You’re the Detective At what point would you have started to suspect these deaths weren’t natural? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.murderunpacked.com

  • August 22 · 3 min

    Murder Unpacked: The Learning Curve

    Everywhere you look today, there’s murder. I don’t mean literal crimes taking place, I mean some kind of media. Be it documentaries, crime fiction, books, podcasts, even Substack. So, we must know all there is to know, right? That’s definitely how I felt about murders. Until I started investigating them. I’d been a police officer for eighteen years, most of that time as a detective, investigating virtually every crime imaginable, but not murder. Looking back now, when I joined the murder teams as a Detective Sergeant in 2009, I think I was a bit naïve about what I was signing up for. I’d investigated shootings, stabbings and other serious assaults. I thought the investigative skills would be the same. Very quickly I realised I couldn’t have been more wrong. It wasn’t just the crime itself that was different. It was everything. The law. Forensics. Digital investigation. Human behaviour. Investigative strategy. The pressure. I realised murder investigation wasn’t simply another type of investigation. It was something unique. In total I spent twelve years on the murder teams, and every day taught me something new. Literally right up until my last day. I wish I’d had that knowledge when I first started investigating murders. When I retired from the police, all that knowledge left with me. But that never sat right with me. That journey I went on. The successes I had. The mistakes I made. I didn’t want all of that to be forgotten. That’s a big reason for what came afterwards. First the books. Then television. And now Murder Unpacked. And that is what will sit at the centre of every article I write and every podcast I record. Each will look at a well-known case, and occasionally a lesser-known one. But not simply to recount what happened. Each will unpack one aspect of murder investigation. Sometimes we’ll look at the techniques detectives use to solve cases. Sometimes we’ll explore why investigations go wrong. Sometimes we’ll examine the difficult decisions detectives face. Sometimes we’ll look at mistakes. Mine included. Because if we’re going to understand murder investigation properly, we have to be honest enough to talk about both the successes and the failures. No single article can explain murder investigation. But my hope is that, over time, they build into something much bigger. The goal for every article is simple. I want you to finish it understanding something you didn’t know before. If that happens, then Murder Unpacked has done exactly what I set out to do. I also hope this becomes more than just a place to read or listen. At the end of every written article you’ll find You’re the Detective. It’s your opportunity to ask questions, challenge ideas, share your thoughts and discuss the investigation with others who are just as curious about how murders are investigated. Over time, I hope that community will also help shape where Murder Unpacked goes next. Because although I spent twelve years investigating murder, I never reached the end of my own learning curve. Hopefully, each article becomes part of yours. Let’s begin. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.murderunpacked.com

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