Justice for Helen

by Marie McCourt

  And there it was. The reaction that changed everything. Because within a fraction of a second, Simms’ demeanour instantly, and dramatically, changed.

  Even though he was wearing a thick Aran sweater, his chest began to visibly palpitate. And from speaking calmly and easily, he suddenly had difficulty enunciating his words. ‘I-I-I’ll g-g-g get Tr-r-racey,’ he stammered.

  Silence descended. Every single police officer stopped what they were doing and turned to look at this remarkable response from the pub landlord. Superintendent Davies, who had a degree in psychology, exchanged glances with his colleague.

  He’s panicking.

  ‘Right,’ Superintendent Davies decided. ‘We’ll have you down at the station, too.’

  It was the one and only time that Simms’ mask ever slipped.

  Simms, Ken and Tracey were all questioned separately. Ken and Tracey’s stories matched; Simms’ didn’t. It quickly became obvious that he was lying through his teeth about his whereabouts on Tuesday evening.

  First, he told police he’d been upstairs with Tracey all evening. When Tracey’s account differed, he made a second statement admitting he hadn’t been truthful. This time he said that he’d left the pub, filled up with petrol at a garage in Main Street and called at the family home to confess to the affair but couldn’t bring himself to do so. Upset, he had driven to Southport, parked on the prom overlooking the sea and cried about his marital difficulties. He said he hadn’t wanted to tell the police this before in case they laughed at him. But neither of the two garages in Main Street recalled serving Simms. No one could vouch for his presence in Southport. And despite the strong gales, not a single grain of sand was found on or inside his car.

  When police asked about the scratches on his neck, he said they’d been caused the previous Sunday by Susan when he’d pulled her off Helen in the ladies’ toilets. But he had put make-up on them to hide them from Tracey, who disliked Susan.

  Simms admitted that he was on his own in the pub – with his Rottweiler guard dog – from 4.20pm, when his manager, Ken, had left following the lunchtime shift, until 5.55pm, when Ken returned to open up for the evening. He said he was doing his books in the first-floor office and ‘got his head down’ for a bit.

  Meanwhile, Simms’ Volkswagen had been impounded and taken to the station. An examination revealed heavy mud staining, inside and out. On opening the boot, forensics found ‘smears and spots of blood on the boot sill and its rubber seal . . . spots and splashes of blood on the inside of the boot lid and blood stains on the boot carpet’. And there, in the centre of the boot carpet, lay a solitary opal and sapphire earring with minute traces of blood on it.

  I’d already described to police everything Helen was wearing when she left the house that day – right down to her favourite earrings, an opal surrounded by sapphires.

  With heavy hearts, DCS Eddie Alldred and DS Tom Purcell made that fateful visit to my home and asked if I recognised it.

  Back at the station, just after midnight, Simms was asked what he could tell police about the jewellery found in his car. When he replied ‘nothing’, he was arrested on suspicion of the abduction and murder of Helen. He insisted someone must have placed the earring there.

  A detailed medical examination of Simms by a police doctor revealed scratches consistent with fingernails and vegetation on his hands, arms, legs and torso. Simms insisted the scratches were caused by brambles while walking his dog on the Monday – and the scuffle with Susan on the Sunday night. However, a police doctor examined Susan’s fragile, weak fingernails and insisted they could not have caused those scratches. Helen, however, as Mr Leveson told the court, had strong, long fingernails. A bracelet and two rings that Simms had been wearing (one was so tight that it had to be removed with lubricant) revealed traces of pale, encrusted mud that matched sediment found on the car.

  Meanwhile, back at the pub, which had been closed by police, forensic scientists were getting to work. Grit and sand were found at the bottom of the bath. Blood stains and splashes were found on the interior door, which led to the private staircase and at the bottom of the staircase itself – the area Simms had been scrubbing with bleach.

  More stains were found on the wallpaper and banister rail at the top of the stairs. A further drop of blood was found on the fifth step from the top. Forensics also found a fingerprint in fresh blood on the inside of the door, close to the splattered blood. Although there wasn’t enough blood to reveal a blood type, the print matched Simms’ right forefinger. ‘There is no doubt that there was blood on the finger when the print was left on the door,’ a senior fingerprint officer said.

  More jigsaw pieces were starting to fit. Remember the men’s clothing found by the dog walker the morning after Helen disappeared? This was sent to the forensic laboratory at Chorley for routine analysis. At this stage, remember, there was no link with Helen’s disappearance. These clothes, which had been found fifteen miles away, could have gone to any of the scientists who worked there.

  In addition, the forensic lab was used by several police forces including Merseyside, Cheshire and Greater Manchester. Merseyside was the main force investigating Helen’s disappearance, but the Hollins Green area came under Cheshire Constabulary while Irlam (which would also be involved) came under Greater Manchester. But, by complete chance (again, I thank St Martha), they went to the very same forensic expert, Dr Eric Moore, who had been called out to the George and Dragon the day before to search Simms’ car.

  Opening up the bag, he immediately spotted the sweatshirt which was no longer inside out. It featured a distinctive Labatt logo. Then it came to him in a flash.

  The George and Dragon was running a promotion of Labatt beer. There were posters behind the bar. Staff were wearing Labatt sweatshirts.

  This find was crucial to the case. Had the clothes gone to any other forensic scientist that connection might not have been made. Thank God it was. Both Simms’ wife, Nadine, and his girlfriend, Tracey, immediately identified the clothes as belonging to Simms. In fact, the police report said that, Tracey’s reaction was dramatic: she vomited.

  Tracey also confirmed the towels recovered with the clothes were similar to some used in the George and Dragon flat and the dishcloth was identical to one of two she had recently bought from the village store to use in the flat (this was also confirmed by the shopkeeper).

  The distinctive light blue leather boots belonged to Barry Smith – a previous pub manager (and son of Mrs Smith, the cleaner), who had lived on the premises. When he’d moved out in September 1987, he’d left the boots behind. Simms had been seen wearing them.

  And those muddy Supertuff-branded jeans? Simms had been issued with four pairs of them while working at the glass company Pilkington Brothers – known as Pilkingtons – as a process worker and, later, trade union representative. This was his job prior to taking over The Stone Barn restaurant and then the George and Dragon itself.

  For twenty-four hours Simms insisted the clothes weren’t his, that Tracey had been mistaken in identifying them. Then, out of the blue, and without being shown the clothes again, he admitted they had come from his flat but must have been taken by someone else.

  Brick by brick, a wall of evidence was building up. Helen’s blood group was not known. However, by examining blood from both myself and Billy, scientists were able to establish the blood group she would have inherited from us. And they identified a one in 470 chance that the blood stains found on Simms’ clothing, the flat and the car were consistent with a child parented by myself and Billy.

  The DNA genetic fingerprint findings were even stronger. Newspapers reported how scientists concluded that the DNA make-up of blood samples recovered was 14,000 times more likely to have come from a child parented by us than a random person.

  ‘The Crown submit that this is strong evidence that the person who bled onto the clothing was Helen McCourt,’ said Mr Leveson.

  With the sweatshirt, the findings were even stronger – at 28,000 t
o one. And with the jeans, they had increased to an astonishing 126,000 to one.

  Mud was also recovered from the bracelet and two rings Simms had been wearing, leading the prosecution to declare he had been ‘wrist-deep’ in mud.

  As we know, on Sunday, 14 February 1988, Simms was charged with Helen’s murder. For more than three weeks, the search for her body continued.

  Then on 3 March, a young gym instructor was shooting rats on the bank of the River Irwell, in Irlam – three miles away from where Simms’ clothing had been found in Hollins Green – when he spotted a woman’s dark blue handbag in the undergrowth. Assuming it had been stolen, he gathered up the make-up and personal possessions which had spilled out, then took the bag home. Inside, his dad found a Royal Insurance identification badge. His heart missed a beat on seeing the name and photograph: Helen McCourt.

  ‘This is that missing girl from Billinge,’ the dad had said.

  Police searches recovered Helen’s red purse five feet from the water’s edge, while divers retrieved a black bin liner containing her coat, navy trousers, white knickers, mitts, maroon scarf, a right brown suede knee-length boot (the left has never been found) and her Superdrug shopping, submerged in the water.

  Police also found a grey, zip-up cotton jacket, which Simms immediately recognised as his – a jacket he said he rarely wore because it was getting ‘tatty’. Partially washed-out blood stains were found on the upper right front of the jacket and on both sleeves – particularly the right. Scientists identified the blood as human but were unable to group it as it had decomposed. Bullets found in the pocket matched bullets retrieved from the pub safe (Simms had been a member of Pilkingtons’ gun club until twelve months previously).

  The most disturbing discovery was a piece of electric flex or cable. It was made up of two separate pieces knotted together. A total of twenty-four strands of long, brown, tinted hair were caught in the knot and twisted around the cable. Simms admitted the flex had come from the pub. Indeed, close examination showed it was punctured with bite marks that matched the teeth of his Rottweiler, who had been playing with it that week. But he could provide no explanation for the hairs being caught in the knot.

  We’ll come back to this shortly.

  Police also found two of the bracelets Helen had been wearing when she vanished – a snake bracelet set with a ruby, Helen’s birthstone, and a triple bracelet, now damaged and pulled out of shape, while, they believe, being yanked off her wrist.

  A candy-striped pillowcase, identified as coming from the pub, was also found. A microscopic examination of the black bin liner, which had held Helen’s possessions, revealed that the series of holes punched near to the top edges, and the heat seals at the bottom, corresponded with the roll of bin liners at the pub.

  Inside her red purse was the receipt from Superdrug, listing prices of all the items she’d bought that day with a five-pound note. Police matched up the receipt with all of the items found strewn inside the bin bag: shampoo, body lotion, nail varnish, mint and orange hot chocolate sachets and stockings.

  However, one 49p item was missing. Returning to the George and Dragon, police carried out a fingertip search. There, in the back bedroom, they found a brand-new Superdrug toothbrush, costing 49p. ‘Helen was always brushing her teeth,’ I told the police. ‘She’d brush them every time she ate, even at work. She was always going through them [toothbrushes] and could well have been buying a new one.’

  For some reason, this evidence was not allowed in court, but it still had a dramatic effect on the investigation. Suddenly, police realised the significance of the noises that had been heard coming from the room above the restaurant the night Helen disappeared.

  The room was emptied and searched forensically. One officer found a butterfly clip that matched Helen’s broken earring. Police also found, between the bed and a chest of drawers, a blood stain and a clump of hair – they were long strands of tinted hair pulled out at the root.

  Without a body, forensic experts really had their work cut out, but I thank God for how diligently they worked, gathering and analysing essential evidence.

  Remember how, shortly after Helen disappeared, police had taken some strands of her long hair from her Velcro rollers? Examining them microscopically, they detected a gradual colour change from mid-brown near the root to a distinctive red-brown colour towards the tip from where Helen had dyed her hair.

  While scientists examined the strands forensically, police made regular calls asking what shampoo and hair products she’d used. I’d answered as best I could, but it was clear there was still something flummoxing them. Something else they’d identified on her hair.

  Something out of the ordinary.

  Driving home from one of our Tuesday novenas, it suddenly came to me: ‘Dettol!’ I cried. ‘That’s it.’

  Once a week, Helen had started giving her hair a final rinse in a very weak dilution of Dettol as she’d read somewhere that it prevented dandruff (not that she had it, she was just a stickler for keeping on top of that sort of thing). I told the police and they reported it to Dr Moore. ‘Well remembered, Mrs McCourt,’ was the response I got back. Apparently, it was the last substance they had been trying to identify.

  Back to the hairs in the knotted flex. Under a microscope, scientists could see roots on these caught hairs, indicating they had been pulled forcibly from a scalp. But there was very little tissue that could be used to identify DNA. However, the police forensic scientist had examined these microscopically and detected a gradual colour change, from mid-brown near the root to a distinctive red-brown colour towards the tip – that is to say, they matched the hair found on Helen’s Velcro rollers. The strands also matched Helen’s in length.

  Two hairs were retrieved from the boot carpet, eight from the left pocket of the grey jacket belonging to Simms, and one hair on the right sleeve. All indicated they had been pulled out at the root. They all matched Helen’s hair.

  Scientists also recovered ‘a large number’ – at least twenty – of human head hairs from Helen’s coat. All had been ‘forcibly plucked out’.

  As part of their thorough checks, scientists examined hair samples from every woman who had been in the flat – including Tracey, Nadine and the partners of previous managers. Not one of them matched.

  Simms had two dogs – a black Labrador which lived at the family home and a black and ginger Rottweiler guard dog called Oscar. On the Labatt sweatshirt found at Hollins Green, Dr Moore found black dog hairs similar in colour and microscopic appearance to the black hairs from both dogs, plus ginger-coloured hairs identical to the Rottweiler. Black and ginger hairs were found on the carpets in the back bedroom and the landing, one of the towels recovered from Hollins Green, the grey jacket belonging to Simms and the coat and trousers belonging to Helen.

  ‘Whoever owned the Labatt sweater also had to come in contact with a dog with black and ginger coloured hair,’ said Mr Leveson. He explained to the court that, in the same way that animals and humans shed hair and skin, fabrics like clothes and carpets shed tiny fibres which can be identified under a microscope.

  The two piles of discovered clothes were all forensically examined, as were the carpets on the pub landing and back bedroom, and the interior of Simms’ car.

  Inside Simms’ grey jacket, scientists found fibres from the Labatt sweatshirt (found at Hollins Green), showing the jacket had been worn over the top.

  On the outside of the jacket, forensics found fibres from Helen’s taupe coat, one green acrylic fibre which matched her mittens, and black and ginger dog hairs, which matched Simms’ Rottweiler.

  The landing carpet at the pub flat consisted of brown and grey acrylic fibres. On the Labatt sweater, forensic expert Dr Eric Moore found twenty-six brown acrylic fibres and nineteen grey acrylic fibres identical to the landing carpet; on the jeans there were six brown and five grey fibres, and yet more fibres were found on the blood-stained grey jacket.

  Moving to Helen’s coat, the experts found a la
rge number of both brown and grey fibres; Dr Moore stopped counting at twenty-five. And on the trousers, he stopped counting at twenty.

  The carpet in the back bedroom was different in colour and texture – made up of mauve wool, mauve nylon and blue-grey wool. Again, these were all found on the Labatt sweater and jeans, and on Helen’s coat and trousers.

  Finally, they examined the blue-grey nylon carpet in Simms’ VW car – and found two matching fibres on each of the blue boots found at Hollins Green.

  The complex two-way transfer of fibres on Helen’s clothes, in particular, led Dr Moore to conclude that her clothing had ‘almost certainly’ been in the flat. Scientists found matching fibres from her taupe coat on tape lifts from the mattress and carpet in the back bedroom and on the man’s grey jacket and Labatt sweater.

  Fibres from Simms’ sweater were also found on her coat. And three wool fibres from Helen’s taupe coat were recovered from the boot carpet.

  There was also one more significant discovery. Close to Hollins Green you’ll find Rixton Claypits – a former clay extraction site used by the nearby brickworks factory, now a nature reserve.

  As the mud found on Simms’ car was ‘clay-like’, police divers began to search the deep ponds – popular with anglers – for Helen’s body. (Simms was found to have a fishing permit for those ponds.)

  On 24 March, they recovered a spade from an eighteen-feet-deep pond. The previous owner of the George and Dragon, Frank Keralius, recognised it immediately. It was a distinct Spear and Jackson design with a worn label. He’d left it behind after selling the pub to Simms.

  My head sank in despair when the court was told that, regrettably, someone had picked up the spade shortly after it had been found and began to dig with it. That handle could have had Simms’ DNA all over it – despite being in the water, I thought. Now it’s contaminated.