by Ray Black
Acting on an anonymous tip, detectives visited the homes of Jon Venables and Robert Thompson and on Thursday 18 February invited them to make statements at their local police stations. Despite the paint-marked coats and blood-spattered shoes, investigators did not immediately believe they had murdered James Bulger. They looked too young to be killers. However, following a week of gruelling interviews in which the pair denied, lied and blamed each other for the crimes, police had sufficient evidence to prosecute. On Saturday 20 February, Jon Venables and Robert Thompson were charged with abduction and murder. Detained in secure units until their day in court, both boys underwent rigorous psychiatric evaluation and were deemed fit to stand trial. Three months later, as blood-baying protesters rioted outside the Liverpool courthouse, the two killers entered their pleas of not-guilty.
UNLAWFUL ACT
The trial got under way on 1 November 1993 amidst a media frenzy at Preston Crown Court. Given the pseudonyms Child A and Child B to protect their identities, the two defendants were adversely placed on a raised platform affording all those in attendance a good look at their faces. Neither child was called to give testimony throughout the entire three weeks of court proceedings. Their confessions together with some twenty tapes of CCTV footage provided the judge and jury with sufficient evidence to decide on the fate of these young offenders.
While there was little question that the boys had killed James Bulger, the focus of the opposing counsels was to deduce whether their clients knew right from wrong. Expert testimonies from psychiatrists verified the boys were not insane and had understood their actions were criminal. These findings led to guilty verdicts for both children making them the youngest convicted murderers in modern British history.
Their subsequent sentencing to eight years detention was met with public indignation and in July 1994 the then Home Secretary Michael Howard extended the tariff to fifteen years. This ruling, however, was deemed unlawful by the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and the original sentence was reinstated. In the summer of 2001, following a six-month parole review, Jon Venables and Robert Thompson were deemed no threat to society and released.
Granted a lifetime of immunity to protect them from reprisals, the pair began their new lives with new identities. Though, while Robert Thompson appears to have turned over a new leaf, Venables has since shown to have been unable to shake his criminal behaviour. Arrested twice in 2008 on charges of affray and possession of cocaine, in June 2010 the child killer was handed a two-year prison sentence for downloading and distributing indecent images of young children.
Joshua Phillips
When a young girl goes missing from a quiet suburban street in north Florida, only one teenager knows the truth behind her disappearance, remaining silent until a shocking discovery is made.
MADDIE GOES MISSING
Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened in Lakewood. It was just your everyday stereotype of American suburbia on the outskirts of Jacksonville in North Florida. Station wagons parked on driveways and children played in the backyards of the 1950s homes without fear. Yet on Tuesday 3 November 1998, this picture of suburban serenity was forever destroyed when little Maddie Clifton went missing.
It had been Election Day across the United States, where citizens voted for their preferred public officials, but as dusk set in on this average autumnal evening Sheila Clifton was more concerned with preparing dinner for her family. At six-thirty she called for her two young daughters to come inside. Jessie, her eldest, promptly returned but when eight-year-old Maddie failed to appear her mother grew anxious.
As dusk turned into night the distraught Cliftons called 911 and reported their daughter missing. Maddie had last been seen around five o’clock that afternoon, dressed in a red YMCA shirt, blue shorts and black tennis shoes. Next-door neighbours helped them to search the local area with torches but to no avail. It was as if their little tomboy had simply vanished into thin air.
PRIME SUSPECT
Straight-away the local police focused their attention on one man: Larry Grisham. This prime suspect was a Lakewood neighbour who had two previous arrests for sexual battery to his name. The fact that these accusations were over fifteen years old and charges in both cases were eventually dropped did not assuage the authorities who, at this stage, had no alternative leads.
Bringing the suspect in for questioning, detectives soon had reason to feel more confident they had the man who stole Maddie when Grisham failed a lie detector test. Such faith in his guilt, however, was swiftly destroyed when he provided an air-tight alibi for the time-frame in question. Grisham was cleared of all wrongdoing and the police returned to the drawing board for clues, focusing their efforts on finding the missing little girl.
A massive citywide search for Maddie Clifton brought together over four hundred volunteers to scour the woods, dump sites and local parks of Lakewood and the surrounding areas. A reward of $50,000, later doubled, was offered for information leading to Maddie’s safe return, and even the FBI were contacted to bring a successful end to a case growing colder by the hour.
Little did they know there was somebody in Lakewood who had vital information on Maddie’s whereabouts. One of the helpful neighbours in-volved in the extensive search and who also had handed out flyers within the community knew exactly where Maddie was. His dark secret would soon be revealed in the most shocking manner.
CLEANING UP AFTER A KILLER
On Tuesday 10 November, a week after Maddie’s disappearance, Melissa ‘Missy’ Phillips opened the door to her fourteen-year-old son’s bedroom. A typical teenager’s domain, the carpet was barely visible for clutter; it was like a bomb had gone off inside. Missy and her husband, Steve, had been on at their Joshua to tidy his space for weeks. With a few hours to spare before she was due at her job as a typesetter, the despairing mother decided to make a start on the mess.
The room was in dire need of a clean. There was also a strange smell emanating from somewhere amid the jumble of books, dirty laundry and other junk. Missy then spotted a water mark on the floor at the corner of her son’s water-bed. Thinking it had sprung a leak, she moved closer to investigate. Studying the bedframe, she noticed a dirty white sock protruding from under the mattress. She tugged at it but it wouldn’t move. Loosening the baseboard, she stuck her hand into the gap to retrieve the sock. It was then she touched something cold.
Peering into the dark hole she had created, she received the shock of her life. Staring back at her was the dead corpse of Maddie Clifton. Missy’s first thought was to call her husband. Unable to reach him directly, she left a panicked voice-mail message to contact her immediately. When no call came she was forced to go against her protective role as a mother and raise the alarm, thus implicating her son.
Walking down the block, she approached a detective engaged in the ongoing search. Unable to bring herself to inform him of what she had found, she merely pointed back at her house. In next to no time, authorities descended on the Phillips home and discovered the body of Maddie Clifton. With yellow crime scene tape circling the property, reporters clamouring for information, and neighbours eager to learn the news, Sheriff Nat Glover declared on camera that Maddie had been found and that she was dead.
NINE STRIKES AND OUT
Joshua Phillips was a ninth grader at A. Philip Randolph Academies of Technology. A normal student with a C average, this unassuming fourteen-year-old was in the middle of a geography class when he was summoned to the principal’s office. There, two detectives read him his rights and took him into custody. Inside an interrogation room with his father at his side, Joshua answered questions regarding his involvement in Maddie’s disappearance and death. Here, he gave his version of events that early November day.
According to Joshua, Maddie had come over to the other side of the street to ask to play with him. The older boy knew he had chores to complete and was also aware of his strict father’s rule of no playing outside while alone at the house. But Maddie’s
pleas for playtime continued and he soon gave in to the girl’s persistence. Outside in the backyard they started to play ball. At approximately five-fifteen, Maddie pitched to Joshua who swung his bat, connected with the baseball which then struck Maddie in the eye.
The wounded girl began to cry and, on seeing the nasty gash he had caused, Joshua began to panic. Fearing punishment from his father for breaking house rules, he dragged Maddie into his bedroom and attempted to suppress her screams, hitting her as many as nine times with the baseball bat. When this failed to bring silence he grabbed a penknife and stabbed her in the neck. Joshua then shoved her lifeless form into the hollow bed-frame and went to clean up the blood.
The nightmare had yet to end. After his father returned from work, Joshua heard faint moans coming from his bedroom. Not wanting to incur the wrath of his domineering dad, he rushed to his room and stabbed her again until all was quiet. For the next seven days, Joshua pretended nothing had happened, burying his nose in books, forcing himself to believe it was all just a bad dream. Meanwhile, the mutilated cadaver of Maddie Clifton lay beneath him, decomposing as he slept.
TAKEN LIKE A MAN
The case was brought before the Grand Jury which voted for adult sanctions. Joshua remained in a maximum security facility, held in isolation for nine months before his trial date came around. During this time he underwent a series of psychological and neurological tests which showed the presence of bilateral frontal lobe lesions. These were known to directly impair a person’s ability to comprehend the consequences of their actions. Unfortunately for Joshua, these findings were deemed inadmissible in court and played no part in his defence.
His trial, moved from Jacksonville to Polk County some two hundred miles away due to huge media interest, lasted a mere two days during the summer of 1999. His lawyer chose not to bring any witnesses to the stand nor submit any evidence that may have helped his case. Consequently, the decision for the jury was an easy one. Facing such overwhelming evidence as the blood-covered bat and knife together with his own confession, Joshua Earl Patrick Phillips was unsurprisingly found guilty of first-degree murder.
When it came to sentencing, his fifteen years prevented Joshua from receiving the death penalty, however in all other respects he was punished as an adult. The judge handed down a sentence of life imprisonment with no possibility of parole. The skinny, spectacled teenager was then delivered to Sumter Correctional Institute before being trans-ferred to a facility in Wakulla County following threats to his life.
A series of appeals fell on deaf ears during the succeeding years, however to this day neither Missy Phillips nor Joshua himself has given up hope of a retrial. Even officials involved in his prosecution have had second thoughts as to whether the sentence given to such a young man was correct.
Despite facing a life and death behind bars, Joshua has achieved his high school diploma and even works as a legal clerk, helping fellow prisoners with their own appeals. When asked by successive reporters and interviewers why he did what he did, to this day the inmate – now in his mid-twenties – remains unable to provide an explanation for his actions.
Kip Kinkel
Having put down his parents, this gun-toting teenager paid a visit to his high school and unloaded an entire clip into a cafeteria full of students before being brought down by the heroics of one of his peers.
IN HIS SISTER’S SHADOW
Six years after their first-born, William and Faith Kinkel of Springfield, Oregon welcomed their second child into the world on 30 August 1982. They hoped Kipland Philip would follow in the footsteps of his older sister; Kristin had already proved to be a popular young girl and was excelling at school. But when the family chose to spend a year in Spain during Kip’s preschool, his optimistic parents realised raising their son would be more of a test.
Finding the transition difficult, Kip struggled at the non-English-speaking school and on the family’s return to Oregon, his teachers at Walterville Elementary grew increasingly concerned with his development. Feeling his maturity was below that of his peers, the school called for Kip to repeat his first year. By the time he reached fourth grade, the young pupil had been diagnosed with dyslexia and was attending special education classes.
Sensing he had become a disappointment to his parents, in contrast to his perfect cheer-leading sibling, Kip’s self-worth began to take a nosedive. He started to fraternise with friends his parents considered a bad influence. While this concerned them, they would have been more troubled by another development kept hidden by their son. Since the sixth grade Kip had begun to hear voices inside his head.
DEPRESSED DELINQUENT
Outside school, the maladjusted youth developed a disturbing fascination with firearms and explosives. Believing this adult hobby would help his son to mature, his father supported the interest, enrolling him in gun safety courses and even buying him his first gun, a .22 calibre rifle. Sadly, this recreation did not bring responsibility. By the eighth grade, Kip had turned to petty theft, shoplifting compact discs from a local store and was later arrested for throwing rocks off a highway overpass.
Subsequently referred to Youth Services, the teen-ager underwent a series of counselling sessions to assess his behavioural problems. His psychiatrist, Dr Jeffrey Hicks, diagnosed Major Depressive Disorder, highlighting a need for anger management. Following the completion of thirty-two hours community service for the rock-throwing incident, Kip’s temper went from bad to worse. In the spring of 1997, he received two school suspensions for violence and by the summer had been placed on a course of anti-depressants.
The daily dose of Prozac seemed to have a positive effect on Kip Kinkel. His depression appeared less acute and the tantrums had abated, just in time for his transition to high school. His freshman year at Thurston High began with promise. There were no signs of his temper to speak of and Kip had even been invited to join the school’s football team. It looked as if the young tearaway had turned a corner. Unfortunately, the dark depression had not vanished but was merely hiding, waiting to explode.
LOCKERED AND LOADED
Kip had become adept at hiding things. As well as keeping his rage under wraps, he had also started to stockpile a secret cache of guns and explosives. Dipping into his armoury, the delinquent would later claim he had tested his materiel on animals, blowing up cats and even a cow. Always eager to add to his magazine, Kip stirred when a fellow student called him with news of a new gun. This potential purchase would set in motion a series of events that would shock Oregonians and Americans alike.
The amateur arms sale began with a telephone call on 19 May 1998. Korey Ewert had stolen a Beretta handgun from Scott Keeney, a friend’s father and, knowing Kip’s passion for pistols, offered it to him for a price. The next day, Kinkel brought $110 to school and following the exchange stashed the firearm in his locker. When the owner found his gun missing he reported it to the police, giving them a list of possible suspects who might have taken it. While Kip’s name was not yet involved, further investigation led authorities to the troublesome teen and he was pulled from study hall.
Kinkel was searched and after a brief interrogation admitted the loaded weapon was in his locker. Promptly suspended from school for a third time pending an expulsion hearing, he was placed in police custody and charged with possession and receiving stolen goods. Driven home by an angry father, Kip knew he was in big trouble and began to consider his options. Nobody could have guessed the decision he would make.
KILL BILL
Back at home later that afternoon, Bill Kinkel scolded his son, threatening him with boarding school if he did not start to behave. The frustrated father was all out of answers. At around three-thirty, Kip entered his parents’ bedroom to retrieve his .22 Ruger rifle, loaded a full cartridge and returned downstairs where his father was sat drinking coffee at the kitchen table. Aiming the shotgun at the back of his head, Kip pulled the trigger instantly killing his father. For the next three hours, Kinkel waited at home, taking
calls from concerned students at Lane Com-munity College who wondered why their Spanish teacher had not come in. Kip calmly explained his father would not be working that day due to family problems. A conference call with friends revealed something was wrong. His mind spiralling out of control, Kip cryptically told them everything was over.
At around six-thirty, Faith Kinkel arrived home from work. Her gun-wielding son met her on the garage stairs and, after telling his mother he loved her, shot her twice in the back of the head. Not yet finished, he then fired three times into her face and once through the heart. The parricidal psychopath then dragged his mother’s body back into the garage, pulled his father into the bathroom and covered both with a white sheet.
HIGH SCHOOL HEROICS
The following morning, Kip woke as normal and readied himself for school while his parents lay dead below their makeshift shrouds. He drove his mother’s Ford Explorer to school, parked on North 61st Street and walked into Thurston High. Hidden under his tan trench coat he carried a 9mm Glock, a Ruger semi-automatic rifle and a .22 pistol, his pockets filled with ammo.
Armed to the teeth, Kinkel entered the patio area and fired off two shots, one fatally wounding Ben Walker. He then marched into the cafeteria where nearly four hundred students congregated, awaiting the start of first period. When the gunfire began, many of those inside thought it was the sound of fireworks, a joker’s juvenile prank. But when students began dropping to the floor in agony, it became clear this was more than just horseplay.
Kip Kinkel let rip the remaining forty-eight rounds from his rifle, wounding twenty-four students and killing sixteen-year-old Mikael Nicholauson. When the hollow click of the empty chamber forced him to reload, one injured teen saw a chance to end the madness. Despite sustaining a shot to the chest, puncturing his right lung, Jacob Ryker wrestled the gunman to the ground. As six more students rushed to pin him down, Kinkel managed to draw his Glock, firing one shot striking Ryker in the hand, but the shooter was unable to wriggle free and remained restrained until police arrived on the scene.