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

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.

      I already had many queries and misgivings about the case. This latest account from Stephen threw me into even greater turmoil.

      The thing that immediately stood out was his description of someone assaulting him and threatening his sister, as he knelt by the injured woman. If this were true, and this unidentified person had a companion as suggested, then who were these people? And why was no mention of them made at the trial? Could one of them be the man who trial witnesses Louisa Hadfield and George Paling saw running away from the direction of the cemetery? I also wondered why so little effort was made on the part of the police to establish who this running man was.

Of course, this latest account was at serious odds with Stephen’s original confession, which he had retracted after 13 days. However, apart from the omission of someone in the cemetery threatening him, it was same story he had told the police during the first nine hours in the police station, and in subsequent years in prison. I needed to know why Stephen had briefly deviated from this version and admitted in his confession to attacking and sexually assaulting Wendy Sewell.

      When I re-read Stephen’s alleged confession statement, there were various bits and pieces that simply did not and could not match the facts. Stephen said he hit Wendy twice on the back of the head to knock her out. The Home Office’s own summary confirmed that Wendy had been hit ‘seven or eight times’ with repeated, savage blows to the head.

      I also questioned how, after such an attack, any jury could have imagined Stephen Downing walking out of the cemetery appearing ‘calm’ and ‘perfectly normal’, with no apparent bloodstaining after such a frenzied attack. There was also no mention in his ‘confession’ of Wendy having moved from the path to the graves. In fact, he said, ‘She was lying on the ground the same way I had left her.’

      One of the workmen, Hawksworth, said he had picked up the murder weapon earlier in the day. In which case his fingerprints would have been on it as well as those of the murderer. Were any fingerprints or blood samples taken from the murder weapon? Or from the workmen, who were also allowed to carry on working in and around the chapel even though the supposed murderer had gone back there after committing such a violent attack? If the pickaxe handle had come from the council store, any of the workmen’s fingerprints could have appeared on it quite innocently, even Stephen’s.

Another important factor taken from Stephen’s account of the day was that, on his way home from the cemetery at 1.08 pm, he spoke words of greeting to one of the prosecution witnesses, Charlie Carman. He said he saw him between the shop and the cemetery, walking in the direction of town on his way to work. Unfortunately, Carman was now dead, but I found out that at the time he had been employed, like Stephen, as a gardener with the council.

      That day, Carman was working in Bath Gardens in the town centre. I checked his evidence. It confirmed he was heading back into town that lunchtime, but made no mention of seeing Stephen Downing.

      Carman said he looked over the hedge of the cemetery somewhere near the phone box and saw Wendy walking along a path. At this point on his route he would have already passed Stephen, who was heading to the shop. So, Wendy must have been uninjured after Stephen had left the cemetery. Why then had Carman not been quizzed over this anomaly? Had Stephen ever queried this with the police or his defence team?

      I also noticed a major time discrepancy. Carman said he had spotted Wendy at 12.50, but everyone agreed that Stephen did not leave the cemetery until around 1.08. If Stephen saw Carman, and vice versa, then Charlie’s timing was well out.

      There were many parts of this puzzle that didn’t make sense. But I also needed some more answers from Stephen. Why did he change his story at the police station? Why admit attacking and, moreover, sexually assaulting Wendy? Why did he wait 13 days before retracting his confession?

      I was also interested in knowing more about Nita’s assertion that he changed his boots when he came home at lunchtime.

      She claimed it was because he had put on the wrong boots in the morning. And I also needed to clear up the allegation concerning this mystery man in the cemetery who had poked Stephen in the back and threatened him. Why on earth had that allegation not formed part of his defence? I knew I would still need to ask some difficult questions, which many people, the Downings included, might not like.

I wrote to Stephen again and asked him if he could answer some additional queries. In particular, I wanted to hear his version of the interrogation at the police station. Ray told me the confession was forced out of him, but I needed to hear it all directly from Stephen.

CHAPTER 7

       Believing the Beebes

      I realised my presence and my nosey-parker attitude was making an impact around Bakewell. Perhaps I was beginning to upset some locals who thought their secrets had been buried with Wendy Sewell.

      I noticed it far more on the council estate near the Downings’ home, where quite often people would stop and point at me as I drove past, no doubt muttering something about me under