The Scapegoat: One Murder. Two Victims. 27 Years Lost.. Don Hale

      ‘I was driving our old faithful bus Nell, which operated on the daily service round the local villages. I checked her over. She was always reliable, and I thought, What a pity Stephen couldn’t be more like her.

      ‘She started first time, and I drove out of the main yard but took it steady in case there was any ice about.

      ‘As I approached Middleton-by-Youlgreave, I noticed some people huddled in a small group by the bus stop. One woman was stamping her feet to keep warm, and they were all wrapped against the bitter chill wind.

      ‘“All aboard the skylark!” I shouted as the door swung open, and a cold breeze came in with the first passenger. I checked my change and adjusted the ticket machine ready for the next stop. The clock on the dashboard was visible to all, and the minute hand clicked to 8.05 a.m.

      ‘I had arrived on time just before 8 a.m., but couldn’t leave until the scheduled time of 8.10. I closed the door again, and while we waited I took a quick glance to admire the view.

      ‘The engine shivered against the cold. The clock suddenly clicked, and it was 8.10 a.m. precisely.

      ‘I asked if everyone was on – not really expecting a reply. I glanced in the rear-view mirror as I set off, and then suddenly this woman appeared directly in front of me. I had to stand back hard on the brakes, and the passengers were all tipped forward in their seats.

‘I opened the door again and let on this young woman I recognised as Wendy Sewell. She had been totally oblivious to any danger and was fiddling for change inside her purse. She had actually brushed against the front radiator of the bus just as I was setting off. Still breathless with shock, I said to her, “You were lucky!”

      ‘She replied, “Yes, I’d laddered my tights and had to look for another pair. I thought I’d miss the bus!”

      ‘No, I don’t mean that,’ I said. ‘I nearly knocked you over!’ She seemed totally unconcerned, and then it dawned on me – she hadn’t even realised her lucky escape.

      ‘I then said, “You’re not usually on this bus.” And she replied, “No, but I’ve some business to attend to in Bakewell.”

      ‘Wendy sat on the front passenger seat by the door. She looked straight ahead and didn’t acknowledge anyone. I glanced at her again as she sat down. She had long, dark-brown hair, which curled just above her shoulders. She was wearing a beige trouser suit with a black jumper.

      ‘As she crossed her legs, her left trouser leg ran up slightly and I noticed that she was wearing tights underneath with small white ankle socks and rather dingy-looking white plimsolls.

      ‘I thought she had probably put on the tights to guard against the cold. She carried a light-brown wicker-type shopping basket over one arm, and put her purse into a small handbag, which she placed under a cloth in her basket. I shook my head slightly and thought, What a pity. A pretty young woman – shame about the shoes!’

I stopped Ray for a moment. ‘You’re sure about the purse, tights and basket?’ I asked. I needed to be sure because I couldn’t find any record of these items in the police scene-of-crime report. There was also no mention of any diary, which again was supposed to have been in her handbag – allegedly together with a black book.

      It seemed rather odd that the victim was found without her handbag or any other important personal effects. I recalled that there was no mention either of finding her tights.

      Ray thought for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, I am absolutely certain. That very morning, she placed her purse into the basket and then covered it with a cloth.’

      ‘So, what do you think happened to these things?’ I asked him, adding, ‘They were not found at her office, so are they still in Catcliff Wood?’

      ‘Why not?’ Ray replied. ‘I don’t think anyone bothered to look, despite it being right next to the cemetery. After they forced a confession out of Stephen the police made little effort to find anything, or to question anyone else.’

      He was keen to continue with his story. ‘I exchanged a few more pleasantries with Wendy but we were fast approaching Bakewell town centre. She was more intense as we came into Rutland Square. She seemed to have some things on her mind. As soon as we stopped, she was up and out in one, and ran down the street without saying a word. I shouted, “Cheerio!”, half expecting her to wave back, but she didn’t. I never saw her alive again.’

      Ray wiped a tear from his eye – he was still emotional as he recalled these details – but soon regained his composure. He dipped his biscuit into his tea. ‘I had a funny feeling it would be a memorable day. The strange thing is that I could have killed Wendy Sewell myself that morning, quite by accident, of course, and then we wouldn’t have had 20-odd years of this bloody nonsense.’

Nita said she arrived home from work on the bus just after 1 p.m. She had only put the kettle on a few minutes before when she heard Stephen’s key in the door. ‘I shouted to him that it wasn’t locked,’ she said. ‘Stephen said the shop had already closed for lunch, and he asked me if I could get him another bottle of pop and take it across to him later at the cemetery. He had an empty bottle with him to collect the refund, and he put it on the kitchen table with some money.

      ‘I asked him if he was staying for a cuppa as I was making one for myself. He said no, as he had just come back to change his boots and feed the hedgehogs.

      ‘I told him I had already fed them, and said I would get him another bottle of pop when the shop opened and take it down to him later. He stayed for maybe another minute or so, but said he had to get back to his work and would see me later – but he too never returned home.’

CHAPTER 4

       The Confession

      So far, I had only heard the Downing family’s version of events, which, understandably, was all very cosy and supportive. I now had to examine the official papers to get some perspective on this. If Stephen really was innocent, I could only help if I thoroughly understood his best lines of defence.

      Jackie had collated a massive bundle of paperwork from the courts and other key sources relating to the case. Among them was the Home Office summary, which included his original, alleged confession taken down by the police.

      The police confession was stark and distasteful and gave Jackie second thoughts about becoming involved with the case. I told her to stick with it and wait until we received Stephen’s documents with his version of events.

      A copy of his confession was written down by officers on the night of the attack, dated 12 September 1973, and stated:

      I don’t know what made me do it. I saw this woman walking in the cemetery. I went into the chapel to get the pickaxe handle that I knew was there. I followed her, but I hadn’t talked to her and she hadn’t talked to me, but I think she knew I was there.

I came right up to her near enough. I hit her twice on the head, on the back of the neck. I just hit her to knock her out. She fell to the ground and she was on her side, and then she was face down. I rolled her over and started to undress her. I pulled her bra off first. I had to pull her jumper up and I just got hold of it until it broke, and then I pulled her pants and her knickers off.

      I started to play with her breasts and then her vagina. I put my middle finger up her vagina. I don’t know why I hit her, but it might have been to do with what I have just told you. But I knew I had to knock her out first before I did anything to her.

      It was only a couple of minutes. I was playing with her and there was just a bit of blood at the back of her neck. So, I left her, went back to the chapel, got my pop bottle and went to the shop, and then went home to see my mother and asked her to get a bottle of pop for me because the shop was closed. I suppose I did that so that no one would find out I’d hit the woman.

      I went back to the cemetery about