Crime Scene Investigator

by Paul Millen

  This paint found on the garage door too was from a white Honda van which had been resprayed yellow. This was significant information and corroborated Barrett but not the witnesses at Armaguard who had seen a white Honda van. Barrett had described it as yellow and he had seen it hit the garage door. The remnants of the van were found in France. Although it had been scrapped, someone had cut the rear off and turned it into a trailer. It was definitely yellow and paint samples were obtained to confirm the layer structure. The two witnesses from the Armaguard scene were re-interviewed and it was revealed exactly when they had seen the van. They had both seen the van before dusk, under sodium street lighting. When this was reconstructed it was clear that if anyone didn’t already know the colour of the van it would appear white under the street lighting there.

  This was significant to me and a testament to the corroboration process we had undertaken. Barrett told investigators what he had seen. The Armaguard witnesses too, but although their view was truthful, the sodium street lighting had deceived them. The paint and roof bars corrected this view. Barrett didn’t even know about the roof bars and that corroborated his evidence and linked it to a Honda van, the type, if not the colour seen at the crime scene. Barrett was telling the police the truth. The corroboration process was working.

  Barrett gave a statement regarding a robbery which occurred in Greenwich, south London, committed by him, Croke and other gang members. A security van was attacked in the street. Croke had tried to shoot through the armour-plated glass first with some home-made armour-piercing bullets and then with a builder’s nail gun. Both failed but left the screen badly damaged. This offence would never have been linked to the gang if Barrett hadn’t informed the investigators. There was nothing to link them description-wise or in the method of attack and it was lost in the recorded investigation detail. So it was never linked before Barrett brought it to our attention. Barrett said that Croke had experimented by making steel-headed ammunition and had accidentally discharged one in his garage. A return visit to Emerald was undertaken and the damage found, revealing yet more evidence.

  Examination of the items from the Greenwich scene revealed another piece of cloth. It was found in the getaway car and was complete with a seam and stitching. It matched up with the two pieces of cloth found at Cross and Herbert and Emerald. There was a three-way connection. All these pieces of cloth had originated from the same garment.

  Barrett went on to tell investigators where the industrial nail gun could be found. It was at the home address of another suspect. A search was undertaken and a Hilti builder’s nail gun was recovered. Examination of the mechanism revealed fragments of glass which matched the laminated armoured screen of the security vehicle which had been attacked.

  The holiday which Croke took in Malta with his wife was also to be significant. Barrett had joined them there. One evening, after a good meal with plenty of drink, David Croke decided to buy a boat and name it Armag, after the premises which they had robbed. It was a bit of bravado on his part and he saw the idea through. A few days later (no doubt having sobered up) this didn’t seem such a good idea so it was over-painted with plain white paint. Barrett told us where the boat could be found. I knew that if we could find the boat we could use light sources to see through the upper paint layers to reveal the name underneath. Kevin Shapland arranged a trip to Malta on which I would accompany him. In the end it was Detective Inspector Ken Grange and Kevin Shapland who went. If the boat was found I would be called for. The boat was found, but senior officers at Scotland Yard felt that they had spent enough on this trip so the two detectives would have to do their best without me. I was disappointed and I spent a day on the phone to the Malta Police Laboratory which probably cost more than a trip would have. Under my direction they indeed revealed the name Armag from the lower paint surface of the boat. This was photographed. Kevin Shapland, ever the professional, took a statement that the word ‘Armag’ meant nothing in the local language.

  In another twist, Barrett admitted to a bullion robbery that he and Croke had undertaken in the west of England. The amount reported stolen was under £100,000. But Barrett and Croke had actually stolen three times that amount. It was revealed that the company they robbed, at gunpoint, had been in fact recycling gold bullion from another major armed robbery. They had stolen already stolen gold! A dust coat found in the garage at Emerald had been examined for firearms residues in connection with Croke’s alleged manufacture and discharging of weapons there. Fragments of bullion-quality gold were found in the pockets during this examination.

  Although no finger marks matching the suspects had been found at any of the scenes, fingerprint evidence was to play an important role. Croke and others had opened bank accounts in false names. Their fingerprints were found on documents, which enabled a direct link between them and the accounts and deposits after each successful robbery to be made.

  Even robbers have to use banks if they want to legitimise their ill gotten gains. In the major bullion robbery which preceded Croke and Barrett’s robbery in the west of England, many other suspects drew attention to themselves in a variety of ways. One very large but not too bright individual was given the task of taking a quantity of laundered cash to deposit at a small bank in a village outside London. He towered well over six and a half feet tall and was almost as wide. He had to wait for the bank to open; its hours were limited to just a few and only on two days a week. The presence of such a stranger drew attention in the quiet village. When the bank finally opened he went inside to be greeted by the small, elderly bank cashier. Placing £3,000 in cash on the counter with details of the account into which it was to be paid, he turned smartly and was about to leave. He was stopped by the cashier who in a firm motherly voice told him to wait. Being the polite man he was in the company of such a matriarchal figure he stood still. He waited whilst she counted the cash. But there was a problem. There was £3,100 and not the £3,000 that had been written on the slip for him. ‘What shall I do with the extra £100?’ the lady asked. He was struck dumb. He had no instructions for this eventuality, it was outside his brief. So he thought for a while and then calmly said to the elderly lady, ‘Have a drink!’ turned and left. The episode was enough to draw attention to the money-laundering process taking place in small amounts around the country.

  The case built against Croke and the other defendants, aided by Barrett’s testimony and the corroboration was accumulating. There was no silver bullet. Such is the nature of corroboration; there was lots of simple but significant independent scientific evidence which showed he was telling the truth in the small and large things.

  As time went on, I was drawn back to other duties at the main office and I had to organise my time, undertaking examinations and then planning submissions to the laboratory. Trips to the lab allowed me to keep up to date with developments and ensure clear communication between investigators and laboratory. As information and result became available, they would be communicated and reviewed to see if yet more work was needed.

  Once the statements were back from Kevan and the many scientists who had undertaken an array of examinations, they were each reviewed by the detectives and me to see if they led anywhere else. The integrity, history and examinations of every item were cross-referenced and the items prepared for easy accessibility at court. The whole process took over a year.

  Lawyers advised that the trial would last at least four months. The police and prosecutors were ready. At one stage, in an attempt to get off a charge of armed robbery of the van at Newport Pagnall, Croke tried to claim that not only Al Turner but the other guard was also in on the crime. This would mean that, instead of robbery, they had committed a theft made to look like a robbery. The evidence, however, said something else.

  The night before the trial was due to begin Kevin Shapland was informed that Croke was going to change his plea to guilty. The substantial amount of overwhelming independent crime scene and forensic science evidence had forced Croke and the other defenda
nts to admit their offences. This was a massive success for the investigative team, detectives, crime scene investigators and forensic scientist alike. The following morning I joined the detectives in court to see Barrett, Croke and the other defendants in the dock at the Central Criminal Court, the Old Bailey in London. Barrett was separate from the others and protected by prison officers.

  His Honour Judge Michael Coombe, the presiding judge, gave credit to Croke for pleading guilty and thus saving the court valuable time, which would have resulted in his conviction in the face of overwhelming evidence had he not pleaded guilty. His victims had been terrified, he had taken families hostage, threatened them with explosive devices and discharged guns in the commission of his violent crimes. He was sentenced to twenty-three years’ imprisonment. There were gasps in the courtroom. Had he not pleaded guilty he could have expected a sentence of over thirty years from His Honour.

  Barrett too was a dangerous and evil man but he was given credit for his assistance to the police since his arrest. He was sentenced to sixteen years’ imprisonment. Other defendants were given lesser but still significant terms of imprisonment.

  Members of the investigation were commended by the trial judge when he was passed a hurriedly completed list. Kevin Shapland, Ken Grange and Dick Kirby were later commended by the Commissioner, and I by the Deputy Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. I ensured that letters of thanks were sent to Kevan and his team for their incredible effort and professionalism.

  This supergrass investigation had been thorough and transparent. For the guilty there was nowhere to hide, for there is nowhere to hide.

  14. Bad News and Very Bad News

  In 1989, the first promotion board, for scenes of crime officer (Grade 1) held since my joining the department was announced. It had been a long period since the last promotion board and there were lots of candidates but thankfully quite a few vacancies. The nine years had allowed me to hone my skills, culminating in a successful four-year tour on the Flying Squad, no mean feat. I was confident that I had a good chance. That didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as I walked down Regency Street in London in October of that year to the interview. I calmed my nerves by whistling ‘The Dambusters March’ written by Eric Coates for the 1955 film. As I did so I began to march in step and I found myself being joined in my imagination by the solid professionals who I had worked with. Kevin Shapland, Dick Kirby, Norman Craig and many, many more until there was a veritable crowd of support. I’m not sure how the interview went. One of the panel, Dave Ince, was one of my bosses. A week or so later, on the day the results were announced, I got a message to phone him. I was busy with a robbery investigation. So when I phoned him a few hours later I apologised and explained the reason for my delay. ‘You SOCO Ones are all the same,’ he said. I had made it and it felt very good. The promotion meant that I would leave the Squad and I was posted to Kings Cross to be the manager of the eleven SOCOs in a wedge of London from there right out to Cheshunt and the Essex and Hertfordshire border.

  My role at that time was seen as a supervisor, a senior professional, although I hated the thought of being just a supervisor. I wasn’t impressed by some who seemed to drive around checking books and registers without offering professional development to those in their charge. So I wanted to get involved and lead. I wanted to be like Norman Craig and build on what he had taught me. I had been warned by one senior manager that I would have trouble delegating as I prefer to do the job myself. I didn’t find that to be true, though. I didn’t mind delegating. The problem with the busy workloads my team had was to find someone to delegate to. That, I was to realise, was what becoming a manager was all about. I hope I didn’t ‘lord it’ over my team. I soon realised that my job was to make their job easier, not harder. I wanted to reward the hard work whist encouraging those who needed development. Equally I realised that the first-line supervisor was a key part of the organisation. Many organisations fail because they get this part wrong. They mess up the planning and communication.

  A case I got heavily involved in was that of Gemma. Gemma had been nursing a sick child. The young mother had not slept, sick herself with worry, she had sat in a chair next to her child’s bed in the emergency room at North Middlesex Hospital. The emergency room had experienced a busy night. It provided a service to a large part of north London. There is nothing routine about a London hospital emergency room at night, other than the volume of people. The nursing staff have to deal with all aspects of human beings at their most vulnerable. The injured, the drunk, the seriously ill and their worried relatives all are there.

  In the early hours of the morning, the child was admitted to the children’s ward and was out of danger and resting peacefully. At six am Gemma decided to go home, have a shower and rest for a few hours before returning to the hospital.

  She walked out of the hospital, crossed the road and decided to take the direct route home on foot. This meant entering the public park and gardens, the gates of which had just opened.

  Walking purposefully through the gates it was only a few paces later that she was grabbed from behind and a hand was pulled over his mouth. The man was much stronger than her and although she struggled she could not get free. She was dragged into a public toilet block and into the furthest cubicle. There she was subjected to vaginal rape. She only saw brief and restricted glimpses of her attacker’s face. She did notice a logo on an article of his clothing, a dark-coloured sweater. It was over very quickly. Her attacker warned her not to look at him and not to scream. Otherwise he would return. He left as quickly as he had appeared. She sat on the toilet seat and, in her own words, she discharged what the rapist had ejaculated into her into the toilet bowl.

  I had started duty at Kings Cross Police Station at nine am. The morning ring-around the area identified the number of burglaries requiring examination at each station and the staff available. More importantly, it identified one serious crime. A quick look at the resources told me that the staff on duty were already overstretched and it would be difficult to write someone, let alone two, off for at least a day. It was down to me and so I set off to Edmonton.

  The local detective chief inspector was on the case as the officer in charge. The toilet block had been sealed off and I advised and made sure that Gemma was being examined by a forensic medical examiner. She was being counselled by an experienced and trained female officer. It would be some time before a full statement was available, but at a suitable break the story of what had happened was relayed to me by the female officer.

  I was immediately struck by the fact that Gemma had not flushed the toilet before she left to seek help after her ordeal. The first officers at the scene had identified that the toilet block had been cleaned and the floors washed before the park gates were opened shortly before six am. To the credit of the officers, no one, not even the first officers, had entered the block at all. A great job of scene preservation.

  A sense of urgency struck me. Two potentially useful areas of evidence immediately became apparent. If I could find any, only the shoe marks of the offender and the victim would be on the toilet block floor. Secondly, and more importantly, there was a chance that the discharged semen was still in the toilet bowl and that could help identify the offender.

  The year was 1990 and DNA evidence was being used in only the most serious crime cases. The technique was still in its infancy in crime investigation, but its power as an investigative tool was already recognised.

  Within an hour or so, the victim examination covered and with a brief indication of what the victim thought had happened, I arrived at the scene.

  The toilet block was of red-brick construction at least fifty years old. It sat immediately inside and to the left of the gates to the park. The main road was only yards away with the North Middlesex Hospital on the other side of the busy North Circular Road.

  The park was well maintained and the toilet block well cared for, shown by the fact that it had been cleaned that very morni
ng before the park opened.

  A police officer stood guard at the gate and the area was cordoned off with police incident tape.

  The paths were regular and covered with tarmac and the grass and flowerbeds were soft with residue of the morning dew. A large pyracantha (firethorn) bush was in flower and extended along the path to the right of the door and entrance of the ladies’ toilet where the rape had taken place.

  The external paths and flowerbeds would require search and examination, but that would have to come later. There was a greater priority. I was concerned about recovering any remaining semen and the genetic material it contained from the toilet. I was unsure about any degradation or dilution which might occur.

  I made a focused examination of the path leading to the toilet block door before peering inside.

  The floor was stone tiled and dry. It appeared clean and free from any dust, as you would expect, having just been cleaned. The door faced a wall turning right into a short passage. To the far right was a bank of four toilet cubicles, each with a private door. The victim had described that it was the furthest cubicle from the door, the one on the far left, into which she had been dragged.

  I had a dilemma. Normally, I would carefully examine the floor for shoe marks, or at least clear a narrow path to the furthest cubicle. But I was unsure if I had time to do that. If there was semen in the toilet bowl I was unsure how it might degrade or dilute. So I decided to clear a path as quickly as possible within eighteen inches of the wall on the left side. I thought that with the floor having been cleaned and with only two known occupants since (the offender and the victim), this area was least likely to contain shoe marks. I cleared the path with oblique lighting, held close to the floor in front of me. I didn’t find any shoe marks and I was very soon at the cubicle door. Again securing the door back so I didn’t disturb anything for a later complete examination, I cleared the floor area inside the cubicle. Then, looking inside, I could see a column of opaque white fluid stretching from the top surface of the water in the bowl to the bottom. Using a teat pipette I drew the fluid up and secured it in a glass evidence bottle.