‘Do you honestly believe, Mr Young,’ asked Leonard, ‘that the doctors needed your advice? You do, by your own admission, have an extensive knowledge of toxicology, but did you really know more about these things than the hospital doctors?’
‘No,’ Graham conceded. ‘I assumed they would have already commenced this treatment. It would have been highly presumptuous of me to tell a hospital what treatment should be given.’
Leonard pointed out that dimercaprol was mentioned in a book as an antidote for thallium. Graham corrected him: it was not specifically for thallium, but rather for use against a host of heavy metal poisonings.
‘You were quite prepared to give the antidote but not prepared to say what the poison itself was?’
‘No, that is not the case.’
Leonard then raised the idea of ‘the deal’ that Graham had talked about the previous day, in which he claimed to have made his confession in exchange for clothing, access to a solicitor and food, etc. ‘That is a complete nonsense, is it not?’ asked Leonard.
‘I’m afraid it isn’t. This is exactly what happened.’ He repeated that he spoke freely to the police in a ‘spurious’ confession, which ‘I had no doubt could never be substantiated.’
Leonard said if that was so, then why did he continue ‘the process of confession’ after achieving his alleged aims of being given clothing, etc.
‘Because that was still my part of the bargain.’
Leonard frowned at him, ‘Are you seriously saying that an experienced chief superintendent was prepared to enter a deal with a man charged with murder, the effect of which was that the man was going to make a plausible confession, which he would withdraw subsequently?’
‘I did not say I was going to give plausible answers,’ Graham replied circumspectly. ‘I said I would give answers which would satisfy him to the extent of enabling him to press his charges but I said I would later withdraw them.’
Leonard tried to pin Graham down: ‘You are an intelligent person. Are you really saying you were prepared to confess in those circumstances merely to get your material comforts?’
Graham was not deterred: ‘Yes, because I was convinced that subsequent analysis of the deaths and illnesses of the people concerned would prove they had not suffered from metallic poisoning.’
‘Was it not curious then, that the two poisons named in your diary – thallium and antimony – were the very two that your victims were later found to have suffered from?’
Graham made no reply.
‘And why did you go on to tell Chief Superintendent Harvey about other victims not even named within the pages of your erstwhile diary?’
Graham answered blithely, ‘From my point of view if I was making a spurious confession, the more the merrier.’
Leonard gave a small snort of derision, ‘You were certainly giving value for your part of the bargain.’
Graham replied, ‘Yes, because I had no reason to think any of the charges preferred against me could be substantiated.’
‘Well, you were certainly taking a chance mentioning two poisons which you had previously purchased and of which you knew there were still residues left in your room which the police would find.’
Sounding a trifle bored, Graham answered, ‘My confession had to have a semblance of credibility as far as the police were concerned.’ He paused, ‘Though this revelation may take you aback, Mr Leonard, if I give my word, I tend to keep it.’
There was a ripple around the court. Mr Justice Eveleigh leaned forward to ask a question of his own: ‘What sort of odds did you think there were of your suggestions to the police about these people turning out to be true?’
Giving a slight shrug, Graham responded, ‘I didn’t think there was any chance of my suggestions turning out to be right.’
Leonard then questioned him about remarks he had made to police about his past. Graham denied having told Harvey that he was not like other children, that he was a loner who had read a lot of macabre books, but he admitted to being fascinated by pharmacology from the age of ten. When they discussed his purchasing poisons under a false name, Graham declared smoothly: ‘To obtain a Schedule 1 poison the prospective purchaser has to complete a form under Section II of the Dangerous Poisons Act. This has to be countersigned by a householder to the effect that the purchaser is of good character and it has also to be signed by the local police. As you can imagine, this is a time-consuming and somewhat tiresome procedure so I decided to take a short cut.’
‘But you used a false name?’
Graham replied, ‘I simply used the pseudonym of Evans so as not to be involved in an embarrassing dispute if I were found out.’ He smiled at his interrogator, ‘You may think this irresponsible, Mr Leonard, and I may agree, but it was hardly felonious.’
The prosecutor was plainly rattled, ‘I suggest you knew perfectly well you were buying those poisons for use on human beings.’
Graham shook his head. ‘That is not so. I performed various tests on the thallium I bought to establish its solubility and its compatibility or incompatibility with other chemicals.’
Leonard almost caught him out by declaring that he did not have the necessary equipment for full tests.
Graham hesitated, ‘No, but I did as much as I could. I also tested thallium’s power as an insecticide on wayside weeds.’
‘For clarity then,’ Leonard said, ‘you administered thallium to no one?’
Graham shook his head again, ‘No, I performed the tests to satisfy my own curiosity about certain chemical problems. To some extent, one might say that my interest in these substances was that of a collector.’
Leonard then asked him why, if his experiments were so innocent, he carried an ‘exit dose’ of thallium on his person.
Graham responded that there was no ‘great significance’ to that fact. ‘Had I genuinely wished to commit suicide, Mr Leonard, I had other agents available which would have killed me in a far shorter space of time.’ Realising his mistake, he said quickly, ‘I have a tendency to stockpile, but I don’t believe the fact that a person stockpiles dangerous poisons means he is going to use them against people.’
There was not much to be gained from Leonard’s viewpoint in their discussions about the victims. Graham referred archly to ‘our old friend, the “Bovingdon Bug”,’ causing Leonard to remark, ‘If I may say so, Mr Young, you display during the course of your evidence a remarkable calmness.’ Graham merely inclined his head, as if to acknowledge a compliment. On the subject of Fred Biggs’ death, Leonard asked him, ‘Were you so concerned about what had happened that you were unable to do any work that day? You knew you had just killed a second man.’
‘That is not so,’ Graham said tartly. ‘From the picture you paint of me you would have thought that I would have been gleefully rejoicing.’
‘Your expression of regret at Mr Biggs’ death was pure hypocrisy,’ Leonard retorted. ‘His death satisfied you.’
Graham slowly shook his head. ‘No, I can see very little satisfaction to be derived from the death of a man in circumstances like that.’
Leonard said dryly, ‘Neither can I, Mr Young.’
When it came to the matter of the drawings found in Graham’s room, Leonard was at a slight advantage, passing them to the jury for inspection before holding them aloft for the entire court to see. ‘They have the classic look of shock for a horror comic,’ he declared. ‘The figures written on them correspond exactly to the fatal doses of thallium involved in this case.’
Graham denied the accusation: ‘They are a symbolic representation of scenes from my novel. The baldness is not significant. They are clearly gross distortions. The faces could be expressing aggression as much as shock.’ Asked about his sketch of an evil genie rising from a bottle of poison, Graham repeated that this, too, was a ‘symbolic depiction’ of his fictional tale, along with every other sketch.
Leonard then turned to Graham’s diary and the tension between the two sparring men spilled over. ‘
As a work of fiction it jumps into the middle of the story pretty quickly, doesn’t it?’ Leonard asked.
‘Yes, but diaries often do.’
‘Did you intend the diary for publication?’
Graham was able to answer honestly: ‘No, I had no intention of pushing it for publication. As I have said, I was writing it for my own amusement.’
Leonard gave him a long, searching look. ‘You have great confidence, Mr Young, in your ability to escape detection in the first place, and in the second place to escape conviction.’
Graham replied tartly, ‘That is your opinion, Mr Leonard. You can hardly expect me to agree with it.’
Leonard frowned. He then turned to the diary passage concerned with the escalating illnesses at Hadlands, after which Graham had written: ‘Is someone setting up in competition to me?!!!’
‘Three exclamation marks. Isn’t that a rather flippant remark in what is purported to be the serious journal of a fictitious poisoner?’
Graham clearly felt he had the upper hand, responding, ‘I was introducing a bit of macabre humour. Since when have poisoners been known for their lack of humour?’
The prosecutor played straight into his hands: ‘I don’t know, Mr Young. I’ve never met any.’
Graham gave a deep bow, ‘Why, thank you, Mr Leonard.’
His interrogator gaped at him, then recovered, ‘You appreciate, Mr Young, that this trial is not yet concluded.’ But as far as Graham was concerned, in a very public battle of wits, he had won hands down.
‘He was not unimpressive, was he?’ remarked Graham’s counsel, Sir Arthur Irvine, softly to his team at the end of his client’s ten-hour questioning in the witness box.695 Reporter Arthur Latcham agreed: ‘Eloquent, precise, impressed by himself and his medical know-how. Ready with well-phrased and plausible answers. And with cunning counter questions for the prosecuting QC.’696 But Graham failed to realise that ‘the more he got going on his pet subject, the more he seemed to show himself as incapable of accepting his obsession as evil’.697 Latcham recalled that a woman next to him in the packed public gallery summed him up well. ‘A good brain gone wrong,’ she said.698
Neither defence nor prosecution felt that a lengthy summing-up was necessary. Both spoke for less than an hour. Sir Arthur presented Graham’s defence and tried to do a little damage limitation to counter his client’s unabashed confidence. He told the jury that Graham might have ‘a morbid and unsavoury’ interest in poisons but that must be kept in perspective on a number of points. He referred them first of all to the meeting at Hadlands when Graham had questioned Dr Anderson in such a way that it finally brought suspicions about him to a head: ‘He chose to flaunt his knowledge,’ Sir Arthur admitted. ‘Now, while it was perhaps extraordinary to find a man at the meeting with such knowledge, but it would have been even more extraordinary if he was guilty, that he should display the extent of his knowledge.’ He then invited the jury to consider a hypothetical case of a valuable postage stamp stolen from a collection in a country house: ‘Let us say that several people are present in the house and let us suppose that one of the guests is a philatelist, and suspicion will centre on the philatelist in that context. But I suggest that it would be the same duty in that instance not to permit such a thing to play a disproportionate part.’
Nor should the ‘Bovingdon Bug’ be overlooked, Sir Arthur entreated. After all, there appeared to have been a sufficient spread of upsets to attract notice and warrant a name. ‘It is quite extraordinary that the concept of the “Bovingdon Bug” should ever have taken life and yet it did. More than one witness spoke of it,’ he reminded them. ‘It was the sort of illness one might unfortunately encounter at family seaside holidays.’ As for the damning diary: Graham claimed it was a novel. Sir Arthur, on less firm ground, told the jury that for all his faults, there was not much sign of his client being a liar. The diary had been left lying about Graham’s room. No effort had been made to conceal it.
Mr Leonard had recovered from his clash with Graham to offer the simplest of condemnations. He reminded the jury of Graham’s allegations of a deal with the police. That, he insisted, told them all they needed to know. ‘In my submission,’ he said, ‘if you can swallow that, you can perhaps swallow anything.’
It was almost 4pm. The room was hot with the June sun outside and with the press of bodies in a space where most of them had spent the entire day, concentrating on every word. Mr Justice Eveleigh wanted to make a start on his summing-up, nonetheless. He told the jury that it was said Graham had administered poison to eight people, aiming to observe its reactions and workings. It was not necessary that there should be any motive. But consideration of a motive might play a part, because without being able to see one the jury might find it difficult to bring themselves to believe that the alleged offences could have taken place. He warned them to be wary of accepting a confession Graham was said to have made to police ‘for it is known that people will confess to things they haven’t done.’
The judge paused and glanced at the clock, then at the sea of hot, tired faces before him. He decided to adjourn the court for the day; his summing-up would conclude tomorrow, and he asked the jury to refrain from reaching any conclusion until then.
In Whitehall, C3 were jittery. The public relations branch of the Home Office sent round a memo on the subject of the considerable press interest surrounding the case and put forward the names of those reporters it might be worth consulting regarding the material gathered. The main area of concern remained the decisions that had been taken by the psychiatrists and Home Secretary. A final draft of the ministerial statement was feverishly completed that evening, noting that the verdict was expected the following day. It pointed out: ‘Poisoning is a unique crime. If violent offenders on release return to violent ways, this is apparent at once. But the use of poison can escape detection for a long time – and in this case the nature and effects of the poisons used made it especially difficult to recognise that the resulting symptoms were not due to innocent causes . . . ’699
Suggesting which steps should be taken, the attached memo admitted:
The present case is one giving rise to great anxiety and it was important for the responsible Ministers to make immediate improvements in the procedures and to take independent advice on them. Whether further fundamental changes should be made raises issues which are complex and difficult and need full investigation by an authoritative body such as is now to be appointed.
Another memo discussed what should be done if Graham was acquitted. The overriding view of C3 was that he should then be returned to Broadmoor immediately.
As a final word of gloomy caution, the memo warned: ‘There is every indication, assuming he is convicted, that we must expect a first-class press and Parliamentary row . . . ’700
On that at least, they were correct.
Chapter Twenty-six
THE TREACHEROUS INSTRUMENT
I
T TOOK THE JURY scarcely an hour to reach their verdict. The bravura Graham had displayed throughout John Leonard’s often aggressive questioning deserted him. Increasingly overwrought, in the cool cells below the court, Graham told his warders that if he were found guilty, he would kill himself there and then by smashing his head and neck against the dock rail. It was not a risk the authorities were prepared to take; two extra guards were called and as he was led back up the steps into court, four burly officers kept a tight hold on him.
In the public gallery, Graham’s Aunt Win clutched her daughter’s hand as the foreman of the jury stood to announce the verdict: guilty of the murder of Robert Egle; guilty of the murder of Frederick Biggs; guilty of the attempted murder of David Tilson; guilty of the attempted murder of Jethro Batt; and guilty of poisoning both Ronald Hewitt and Diana Smart. There were just two acquittals: he was found not guilty of poisoning Peter Buck and Trevor Sparkes because the evidence was deemed insufficient to reach a definitive answer. The alternative charges with regard to Jethro Batt and David Tilson were
likewise dropped. But it was enough.
Graham’s narrow face showed no emotion throughout the reading of the verdicts. Nor did he betray any inkling of thought when his defence counsel, Sir Arthur Irvine, then rose and braced himself to reveal that Graham had been convicted of a series of near-fatal poisonings as a young teen, hence the hitherto obscure years in Broadmoor. It was the proverbial ‘pin drop’ in court, met by an audible, collective gasp from the jury and the curious onlookers in the public gallery. Reporter Susan Nowak recalled: ‘The blood drained from their faces when they heard about his previous convictions. The verdict had not been a foregone conclusion and they were probably thinking, what if we’d let this maniac out on to the street?’
But advances in forensic science since he had first put into practice his passion for poison, coupled with the seething obsession that coloured every page of his murderer’s diary, had left little serious room for doubt. Before taking his seat again, Sir Arthur addressed Mr Justice Eveleigh:
In considering sentence, I submit that your Lordship should bear in mind one matter which I mention with the greatest reluctance. I refer to it in my duty, as I conceive it to be, to my client Graham Young. It is that it was possible for Graham Young to commit these offences only because he had been released on licence from Broadmoor. This release may appear to have been a serious error of judgement, but the authorities had a duty to protect Young from himself as well as a duty to protect the public. If your Lordship is balancing the desirability of a custodial sentence with that of a hospital order, I think it is right that I should say to your Lordship that Young himself thinks that the prison sentence would be better for his condition than a return to Broadmoor.
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