by Paul Spicer
Despite shaky evidence, Jock was arrested on March 14, 1941. Jock’s words to Poppy at the time of his arrest were, “I’m sorry. You’ve made a big mistake.” That evening, he was placed in a cell at the Nairobi police station, and the following day, he was charged with Joss’s murder at the resident magistrate’s court. Immediately afterward, he was sent to Nairobi’s Kilimani Prison and given his own cell (where he was permitted to order the food of his choice from the nearby Torrs Hotel). By mid-April, the magistrate had ruled that the Crown had a prima facie case of murder.
Although Diana was grief-stricken over Joss’s death, she proved herself to be a loyal wife, visiting Jock in prison on a regular basis. One of Jock’s most frequent visitors, however, was Alice. She took him supplies—books in particular—counseled him, and tried to cheer him up. She told him he could not possibly be found guilty. Indeed, what evidence was there? Alice was fixated on the idea that Jock might be found guilty, and she repeatedly told Pat Fisher how worried she was that this might come to pass. Why would Alice have taken such keen interest in this man’s imprisonment while remaining convinced of his innocence? She had never had any desire to befriend Jock before, and his marriage to Diana would only have marked him as off-limits. It is possible that Alice merely sympathized with Jock: She had spent time in prison and knew how it felt to be socially ostracized as a result. Or was something else altogether preying on her mind? If Jock was found to have committed the murder, it was likely that he would be hanged. As with her peculiar visit to the mortuary, Alice’s attentiveness to Jock seems strange, to say the least.
Twelve
The Trial of Jock Delves Broughton
ON THE ADVICE OF JOCK’S SOLICITOR, LAZARUS KAPLAN of the law firm Kaplan and Stratton, Diana flew to South Africa to see if she could hire Henry Harris “Harry” Morris, KC, who was the leading South African defender of the times. Not only was Morris a brilliant cross-examiner; he was also a noted ballistics expert. Diana must have been persuasive, because Harry Morris accepted the job of defending Jock Delves Broughton, at the cost of five thousand pounds, a very large sum for the day. While in South Africa, Diana took the opportunity to buy herself a large number of new outfits, and her wardrobe soon became a matter of note in the Nairobi newspaper the East African Standard. On day one of Jock’s trial, she arrived dressed dramatically in widow’s black and diamonds. The ensuing trial lasted for twenty-seven days, extending over a period of five weeks, the longest on record for central Africa. But nonetheless—as the Standard gleefully reported—Diana never wore the same outfit twice.
The trial of Jock Delves Broughton began on May 26, 1941, in the Supreme Court of Kenya, in Nairobi. The chief justice of Kenya, Sir Joseph Sheridan, presided. Mr. Walter Harrigan, KC, prosecuted for the Crown. Henry Harris Morris, KC, defended. A large crowd of Broughton supporters attended each day—all seats were taken. Diana was not the only female mourner for Joss in the packed courtroom. Idina came each day—she and Joss had remained friends until the end. Accompanying Idina was Joss’s girlfriend Phyllis Filmer, who had returned from South Africa after hearing the terrible news. Since the murder, Idina and Phyllis had become fast friends, grieving for Joss together, to the point where Phyllis even moved in with Idina at Clouds. Then there was Alice. Although she was never called upon to give evidence, she attended the trial daily, always arriving early to secure a good seat, beautifully turned out, as if in competition with the other women in the courtroom. According to Harrigan’s secretary, Peggy Pitt, Alice made copious notes throughout the trial.
Proceedings began with the prosecutor for the Crown, Walter Harrigan, making his powerful opening address. Harrigan reminded the men and women of the jury that motive should guide their verdict: Sir Delves Broughton had killed the earl of Erroll because the latter had stolen his wife. “We shall try to establish that Erroll died from a bullet in the brain fired from a revolver which, at any rate, had been in Broughton’s possession three days before,” Harrigan declared.
Next, Harry Morris set about laying the groundwork for Jock’s defense. Morris wanted to show that it would have been impossible for Broughton to climb down the drainpipe or over the balcony of the Karen house before climbing into the car with Joss that night. “Sir Delves consumed a quantity of liquor at the Muthaiga Club on the night of January 23rd and was under its influence by the time he returned to Karen,” Morris advised. “He was extremely tired as well and night blindness prevented his driving his car after dark, let alone in a war time blackout. He also has a broken wrist, the result of a car accident some years ago.” Equally, the two-mile walk back to the house after the shooting would have been extremely challenging for Jock. Friends of Broughton—including Jack Soames and June Carberry—gave evidence of Jock’s good nature and general equanimity when it came to Joss and Diana’s affair. Soames described his friend as neither “quick tempered or passionate.” June portrayed him as “courteous, considerate and most cheerful, with a sense of humour, and not at all jealous.” Morris also cited the anonymous letters that had been sent to Broughton before Erroll’s murder as proof that Joss had many enemies—former mistresses and cuckolded husbands included—who might have wanted to stir up bad feeling between Jock and Joss during this time. Morris even hinted that the murder might have been politically motivated: Joss had been a sometime member of the British Union of Fascists, after all.
Lizzie Lezard was called in as a witness. Described in court as “Lieutenant Julian Lezard,” he related the conversation he had had with Joss the day before the murder, during which Joss had told Lizzie how “nice” Jock was being about the whole affair. Dickie Pembroke also gave evidence, having been brought in by the Crown in order to rule out Alice as a possible suspect. Dickie clearly loathed playing his part in such a public event, although he duly confirmed that Alice had been in bed with him on the night of the murder.
The Crown’s case, therefore, rested on the following supposition: Jock Delves Broughton had killed Joss Erroll with a bullet fired from the Colt .32 revolver allegedly stolen a few days before the murder. In order to affirm Jock’s innocence, Harry Morris knew that he had to prove that the bullets fired from Jock’s revolver at Soames’s shooting range were different from the ones used to commit the murder. For the prosecution, Harrigan brought in two ballistics specialists to show that the bullets fired at Erroll and the bullets discovered on the shooting range had been fired from the same gun. According to both specialists, all the bullets in question had right-hand grooves and therefore were from the same weapon. It was at this moment that Morris knew he could win his case.
It had already been ascertained that Joss had been shot at with five-grooved bullets. Morris knew that Jock’s Colt was a six-grooved revolver. He had cabled the Colt Company in the United States to confirm this fact.
“It stands to reason,” Morris proposed, “that you cannot get a five-grooved bullet out of a six-grooved gun. And the missing Colts were six-grooved, were they not?” The ballistics specialist on the stand was forced to agree. Morris had it on the record: The bullets and the supposed murder weapon did not match. The Crown was forced to drop its line of argument that Jock had arranged for the Colts to be stolen in order to cover up the murder.
Now it was Jock’s turn to testify and to be cross-examined. This process took place over a period of six days.
“Sir Delves,” Morris began. “Did you have anything to do, directly or indirectly, with the death of the Earl of Erroll?”
“Certainly not” came the reply. Jock went on to mention his limp, fractured wrist, and night blindness. He described himself as devoted to his wife, Diana. He told the story of their recent marriage and the pact that they had made before the wedding—that if Diana wanted a separation, he would let her go.
Morris then asked Jock if he had been prepared to sacrifice his marriage in order to secure his wife’s happiness.
“I realised that she had all her young life in front of her,” Jock replied. “I have not. The only th
ing, therefore, was for me to cut my losses and go away to Ceylon.”
He went on to describe in some detail the events preceding the murder—his evening at the Muthaiga Club, how he had returned home at 2:00 A.M. and then gone to bed.
“I do not mind how many men fall in love with my wife as long as she does not fall in love with them,” he explained. “She never gave me the slightest cause for jealousy till she started going out with Erroll. This, I admit, came as a bit of a shock and I did my best to persuade her to come to Ceylon with me. But she did not want to.”
On the prosecution side, Harrigan needed to show that Jock’s line of argument was implausible.
“Do you seriously mean that if you suspect a man of making love to your wife, you are incapable of making it clear to him you would like him to desist?” he asked.
“Before you know for certain,” Broughton replied, “that your wife is in love with another man, or a man is in love with your wife, I think it would be an extremely foolish thing to do. Once you know, you have to do one of two things—either give up the contest and go away, or have a frightful row and tell the other man you won’t have it. As we had a pact and my wife was thirty years younger, I felt bound to honour it. Otherwise what’s the use in making it?”
To clinch his case, Morris brought in another small-arms expert, who confirmed that the bullets used to shoot Joss could not have come from Jock’s Colt revolver. More witnesses spoke about Jock’s general good temper and his difficulties with walking long distances at any great speed.
Finally, Morris made his closing remarks. Referring back to Harrigan’s original supposition that motive would guide the jury in their verdict, he spoke definitively: “We live in an age of mathematics and machinery. The appeal is no longer to the hearts and to the passions of men. The appeal is to their reasoning power.” It was not the responsibility of the defense to come up with the true identity of the murderer, Morris asserted; it was up to the Crown to show, beyond reasonable doubt, that Jock Delves Broughton had murdered Lord Erroll. Morris reminded the jury that the murder weapon had never been found and that the bullets from Jock’s gun did not match those found in the Buick and in Joss’s body. The Crown needed to prove that Jock had shot Joss with bullets from a five-grooved gun on the morning of the murder. The Crown could not prove this. Also, there was no evidence that Jock had left the Marula Lane house on the night of the murder. What remained of the case against Jock? The motive of jealousy? Morris reminded the jury of Jock’s equanimity in the matter of his wife’s affair.
“There is no proof he uttered a single threat against Erroll’s life at any time. Habit, gentlemen, is a compelling thing. Breeding is powerful and tradition omnipotent…. You are asked to believe, gentlemen, that Sir Delves Broughton suddenly became transformed into a cold-blooded, crafty individual who decided after his interview with Erroll, to slaughter him…. I can only make this submission to you gentlemen: it is incredible.”
Morris concluded his summation with the following words: “The evidence does not support the conclusion that Sir Delves Broughton had a hand in the murder, directly or indirectly. You cannot find him guilty of this crime.”
Next it was Harrigan’s turn to conclude. He informed the jury that the bullets needn’t have come from a Colt revolver. It was possible that Broughton had used another gun. Besides, the Crown’s ballistics experts had spent many months researching and verifying the bullets at the shooting range and the bullets found at the crime scene and had confirmed these were the same. It was clear to him, Harrigan informed the jury, that Jock had decided to murder his rival. He had arranged to have the revolvers vanish, reporting the burglary to the police to distract attention.
“I have already suggested, and I repeat, this was a faked burglary,” insisted Harrigan.
Harrigan then moved on to the central question of motive. Jock had every motive to kill the man who had taken away his wife. During the period leading up to the murder, Jock had acted the part of a husband happily conceding his wife to another man and done so “magnificently.” As to Jock’s disabilities, Harrigan reminded the jury that Jock had recently returned from hunting big game. “He has stalked lion. He uses an elephant gun. There was nothing wrong with his walking or powers of endurance on the hunting expedition to the Masai Reserve.” As for his night blindness, Harrigan suggested that Jock had simply made up this particular impediment to suit his story.
“The Crown has put forward jealousy as the principal motive for this crime,” declared Harrigan. “In your deliberations, gentlemen, you will consider human nature. None are exempt from passion or temptation….”
Harrigan finished his summation just before six on the evening of July 1, 1941. Three hours later, at nine o’clock, the jury filed back in. Jock stood to receive the verdict.
“Not guilty.”
Harry Morris’s expertise in ballistics had indeed ensured Jock’s acquittal. It had not been proven beyond reasonable doubt that Jock was the murderer. For his part, Jock thanked the chief justice and turned to face his jubilant supporters, Alice included. Diana had stayed away from the courtroom that day (at Jock’s insistence, in case of a guilty verdict). Morris, who had returned to South Africa, wrote the very next day to tell Jock he had been certain of his innocence from the beginning and that Jock had been an exemplary witness. Copies of the letter were made and sent to Jock’s many acquaintances, in case they should be in any doubt of his blamelessness. In his reply to Morris’s letter, Jock wrote, “I can never thank you enough for saving my life. Apart from what it means to me there is a deep debt of gratitude my family owe you for clearing my name.”
Alice had followed every moment of the courtroom proceedings with compulsive attention, making jottings in her notebook, investing so much in the outcome of the trial. Now a “not guilty” verdict had been given, just as she’d prayed for and predicted.
Thirteen
The Case for Alice
IF JOCK WAS INNOCENT, THEN WHO SHOT LORD Erroll?
No other suspect was ever tried for Joss’s murder. It was wartime, after all, and after the furor of the trial, Walter Harrigan in particular was keen to play down the scandal, which many in Kenya’s colonial community had found extremely embarassing. The Kenya police duly dropped their investigations. At the time of this writing, nearly seventy years have passed, and yet the Erroll murder remains officially unsolved. The many “unexplained details of the case”—as they are described in White Mischief, James Fox’s classic work about the mystery—continue to tantalize the amateur sleuth. Who was the owner of the hairpin found in the car? What happened to the murder weapon? Why had the Buick rolled off the road with the lights left on and the ignition switched off? What was the exact position of Joss’s body under the dashboard and why was he crouched there?
It is no surprise that a succession of respected authors have been drawn to the rich territory of such a notorious uncracked case. What is surprising is that two of the most distinguished of these writers, both Fox and Errol Trzebinski, Joss’s biographer, agree that Jock Delves Broughton was indeed to blame. Fox believes Jock was motivated by jealousy and that Harry Morris simply confused the jury with his ballistics jargon. Trzebinski believes Jock was working as an agent of MI6 and that he assassinated Joss because of the latter’s fascist affiliations. Yet when one examines what is known about Jock’s character, weighing this with Harry Morris’s persuasive case for his acquittal, along with the technical evidence presented by the defense and the lack of a murder weapon, it becomes difficult to dispute the jury’s verdict of “not guilty.” The Crown’s case failed, and with good reason. The mismatch of the bullets and the weapon clinched the case for Morris, but even so, the idea that Jock had murdered Erroll never really felt right. This was a man in his late fifties who had difficulties walking and who was visibly drunk on the night of the murder. Yet in order to shoot Joss, he would have had to climb down a drainpipe or over a balcony before walking the two miles home. The police plodded to tha
t conclusion of Jock’s guilt on the grounds that he must have been jealous, but Jock was a man who had learned how to live with his losses. As he said at his trial, he was accustomed to losing—his former wife had divorced him after going off with her lover—and as a gambler who regularly bet and lost huge sums on the horses, Jock knew how to be sporting about such things. He had written Diana off as a bad but unavoidable business loss.
The Kenya police never even considered the possibility of a professional hit by an MI6 team, although Harry Morris did raise the idea at Jock’s trial. In this respect, I am inclined to agree with the attorney general, Walter Harrigan, KC, who said of this particular supposition, “If a jury could believe that, I have nothing more to say.” There were many prominent men in 1939 and 1940 who were pro–Oswald Mosley, and quite a few from Scotland, yet none of them became the victims of assassination plots. The duke of Montrose was an avid Mosley supporter, as were the military scientist J. F. C. Fuller and the novelist Henry Williamson. Charles Stewart Henry Vane-Tempest-Stewart, the seventh marquess of Londonderry, visited Germany in 1936 and was entertained by Hermann Goering and Joachim von Ribbentrop; Adolf Hitler himself gave a dinner in the marquess’s honor. Hitler, on the other hand, was a target for MI6, and had he been eliminated in 1939, the course of history might have been different. But Lord Erroll? A man who had been a member of the British Union of Fascists for only a few months? Not worth bothering about. Joss had presented no danger to Britain or to its colonies, and if suspected, he could easily have been watched.
The lack of a clear suspect other than Jock was evidently very much on the mind of Harry Morris during the course of the trial. Morris knew he would have to convince the jury that someone else was responsible for the crime. In summing up, he asked the jury to consider a number of alternatives. It was possible that Lord Erroll—once a card-carrying member of the British Union of Fascists—might well have been the victim of a political plot. Equally, a jealous husband could have been to blame. If not a husband, then it could have been one of Joss’s former girlfriends, seeking revenge. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Morris reminded the jury.