One Man Crusade : DCI Miller 1: The Serial Killer Nobody Wants Caught

by Steven Suttie

  “Thing is though, surely that kind of lackadaisical attitude would bring the force into disrepute?” Ellis was being naïve thought Miller, as he shook his head.

  “It’s a simple case of every single agency responsible for the one hundred and ten thousand convicted sex offenders in this country simply closing rank, and telling anybody who’ll listen that the dire situation that the system is in at present isn’t their fault. Don’t forget, we’re up to our necks in criticism for the Rochdale paedo gangs, the Manchester care home cover-ups, and not forgetting the bloody Member of Parliament for Rochdale was at it for thirty years, and we did jack shit about it. We are guilty of turning a blind eye to paedophiles on our own doorstep, on an industrial scale. Maybe that’s why the attitude that the force appears to have taken is justifiable to some people.” Miller didn’t thoroughly understand the tactics and he wasn’t too intrigued either, he just didn’t agree with it. Any of it.

  “What would you do with them then?” asked Ellis. Miller thought hard about the question before offering a response.

  “Within two minutes of conviction, I’d kill them quietly with a lethal injection,” he said, ever so casually. Ellis was astounded. She was about to comment but Miller continued. “You see I get turned on by women, that’s my thing. I love sexy women, big boobs, long legs, blonde hair and revealing clothes. I love my wife to bits, but if a sexy woman got undressed in front of me and asked me for a quickie, I bet it would be practically impossible to refuse. I would do it… or should I say, I couldn’t not do it. Because that’s what I’m programmed to do.” Ellis looked interested, though her expression made Miller feel like he was a traitor. Ellis and Clare were close friends, and she knew how much he loved her, which made the DI even more intrigued by the argument that Miller was trying to make.

  “So you have no self control, no discipline?” asked Ellis.

  “It’s not like that Karen. Listen right, let’s say it was you - that you started seducing me now. In my mind, I’d know that it would be the biggest disaster of my life - but I’d still bend you over that desk and you’d have the best thirty seconds of your life!” They both laughed enthusiastically.

  “And then, when I’d finished, and you were thanking me persistently, I’d feel terrible. I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye again. Our friendship would be wrecked, our professional relationship in tatters. I’d have betrayed Bob, a bloke I think of as a brother. I wouldn’t be able to look my wife in the eye, and essentially, although I would probably have enjoyed it very much for those few seconds, I’d feel weak and I’d be angry with myself.”

  Ellis continued to look nonplussed.

  “So the point that I’m trying to make is this. I know how I would react in that situation, plus I know what the consequences would be, and how lousy I’d feel afterwards. But I know that if you stood there now and begged me for sex, despite me just going over all the consequences and them being fresh in my mind, I would still do it anyway. That’s man’s weakness you see.”

  Ellis thought that she had grasped the idea, but Miller could see that she was unsure of what it was leading to.

  “So what I’m saying is, if they brought out a new sex offence, for being unfaithful, or for shagging attractive colleagues, I’d be guilty - and therefore I’d be a sex offender. If I’d known that that was the penalty, that becoming a registered sex offender, going to jail would be the punishment, I’d still do it. Can you see what I’m saying? I act on my sexual needs, desires. The consequences pale into insignificance.”

  Miller took a breath and looked at the Detective Inspector, trying to judge whether she understood his point. She looked as though she was following. He continued. “If I was a paedophile, it would be exactly the same. I would prey on kids, even though deep down I’d know it was wrong. So what I am saying is, I believe we are all programmed into our own niche, mine is women, yours is men, gay men’s is men, lesbian’s is women, Yorkshire men, sheep.”

  Ellis laughed and held her hand to her mouth as the joke came from nowhere in such a serious and deep discussion.

  “Paedo’s is children.” Miller continued. “None of this is curable. It’s not possible for me to walk past a sexy woman and not turn around to have a look at her arse. It must be the same for you, having inappropriate thoughts when David Beckham comes on the telly, naked from the waist up, wearing a fireman’s hat.”

  “Yeah! You’re not wrong!” laughed Ellis, looking up to the skies with a cheeky smile.

  “Well, that same formula, it applies to paedophiles. And that’s why I’d kill them.”

  Ellis smiled at the thought of Miller’s simplistic theory. “It’s a good point I suppose. But how do you know that you couldn’t be cured from feeling sexual towards women?” She thought that she may have him on this one, but Miller just dismissed it. He noticed Saunders heading towards the office through the window. He was clutching some documents.

  “It’s not possible because it’s natural. Some gay folk try to defeat their true feelings, not because of the law, or because of their peers or parents, but simply because they don’t want to be gay. But they are gay and they can’t help it. I’m straight, and I can’t help it.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” said Miller. Saunders was about to announce his findings but he was stopped in his tracks.

  “Keith, settle a debate for us. Tell me and Ellis what turns you on.”

  Saunders just stood and looked at his two superiors. His friendly brown eyes glanced down at the paperwork he was carrying. He was embarrassed. Karen Ellis was the only person that truly turned him on, and this was beyond awkward.

  “No. Fuck off!” he stormed to the amusement of Miller and Ellis.

  “No, go on. It’s not a piss take. I’m just trying to explain a theory to her,” he said, nodding at Ellis while addressing Saunders in his most sensitive manner.

  “Well, I get turned on by different things… You know, I don’t know what you mean exactly.” He was struggling, mainly because of Ellis’s presence in the room.

  “Just tell us if you like fucking,” she said, forcing a blush from Miller as well as Saunders.

  “Yeah, course I do. Everyone does,” he said defensively, his voice was small and high pitched.

  “What’s your preference?” asked Miller.

  “Doggy style,” he said, to an explosion of laughter from his superiors.

  “What? Listen are you taking the piss? - because I am very busy.” His face had gone a deep shade of pink.

  When Miller had finally stopped laughing, he explained the point which he’d been trying to make to Ellis. Saunders agreed.

  “Yeah, definitely. If it was suddenly a crime to have sex with women, then get me down for a prison cell, I’d have to break the law, regularly.” Miller ran his theory about whether or not heterosexual men could be cured from having strong sexual desires towards women. “No, it’s instinctive. It’s procreation for God’s sake,” he said. Miller slapped the desk.

  “There you go. See, it’s procreation, so they can’t stop us from doing it, because it’s right, it’s natural, it’s what’s supposed to happen. Raping children is not. There can be no rational justification for it!” He was pleased that he had finally made his point.

  “So then, based on that argument, you are saying that it’s for the best all round if we kill all paedophiles?” asked Ellis, to Saunders’ evident surprise.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he stated.

  “Why?” pressed the D.I.

  “Because they can’t be stopped. They even justify their behaviour to themselves. I’ve arrested loads of them. They make up excuses, reasons why it’s okay. Paedos convince themselves that it’s alright to sexually abuse little kids, rather than do the honourable thing and kill themselves!”

  “So, you’re just agreeing with Pop then aren’t you? You’re no different from the man you want to arrest.” Ellis smirked. That correlation caused Miller
to lose his cool.

  “Don’t be so bleeding daft Karen. Jesus that’s just stupid.”

  “You just said it. Derr.”

  “What, I thought we were talking hypothetically, as though I was the decision maker. I wouldn’t just go around killing people because it seemed like a reasonable thing to do.”

  “But that’s exactly what you’ve just said! Derr!” Pushed Ellis. The look of confusion was unmistakable on Miller’s face.

  “We don’t even know what this Pop wants yet, do we? So how can I be agreeing with him?” Saunders looked over at Ellis, who still wasn’t done.

  “Well, let’s just say that that is his aim, to get all convicted paedophiles lethally injected. Would you still want to catch him?” Miller loved this quality in Ellis, pressing people relentlessly. Except when she was using it on him.

  “Yeah, I would want to catch him, and the simple reason is because it’s my job. I’ve told you, I don’t care about the circumstances. If I get given a case, I solve it. That’s what makes me tick. I’m not interested in politics or changing government policy - it’s not my problem.”

  With that he closed the conversation by turning his computer monitor back on and allowing the Sky News stream to dominate the attention.

  “Sir, I’ve found three relatives for Eric Bradshaw. He’s got a brother who lives over in Blackburn, and a sister who lives in Chorley. His sister has a daughter, aged seventeen. Shall I check them out?” he asked.

  “Crikey Keith, you get quicker each time!” said Miller to the freshly smug face of Saunders.

  “Yeah, check them out – but not just yet though. Let’s see what Mr Greaves photo-fit brings first.” This proposal knocked the wind out of Saunders’ sails, he hated nothing more than waiting around. But he wasn’t dismayed for too long though. Within fifteen minutes, Pop was back on the phone to Sky News.

  Chapter Thirteen

  11.40 a.m.

  Sky Television Studios

  Jerry Phillips had hardly been away from the office since the televised call from Pop the previous afternoon. He had been besieged by all manner of Sky’s managers, production staff, lawyers and affiliates - questioned none-stop about technical matters arising from the calls.

  Earlier in the morning, he had been called in to see his boss Barney Shaw, who had shaken his hand as he sat down with the head of Sky TV’s archive sales, Mike Thatcher.

  Jerry had been informed by the two men that world-wide sales of the phone call to various TV, radio and press agencies had totalled over seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and that was only up until eight o’ clock that morning. Jerry howled with delight as Mike told him that they had sold the copyright ownership for the seven minute segment to over two hundred different news associations worldwide.

  Most of the morning had brought various visitors to the office, mainly people just wanting to discuss the story. He had called one of his presenters, Sue Bentley, at home, to ask her if she’d come in early as he wanted to speak to her about the previous day’s call from Pop. He had spent forty-five minutes in the office with her, eager to try and reassure her. In the end she seemed fine, explaining that it was simply a shock to hear somebody speaking so calmly and unaffectedly about committing such ghastly crimes. Jerry knew that she would be alright, and warned her that Pop could call at anytime during her segment of output, which was between one and five pm, every weekday. He was encouraged by her positive outlook, she seemed eager to get the next call and prove that she could handle the situation.

  He’d also had a lengthy chat with Lisa Warrington up in Manchester, praising her outside broadcast from Wythenshawe the previous day, and warning her to remain alert for the next job.

  It was just before twelve when Jerry was screamed at to get into the gallery. One of the producers was blaring that Pop was on the line, wanting to speak on air. He scrambled into the gallery and grabbed a pair of headphones off the huge mixing desk. He sat down next to the Shift Director, Jack Holmes and stared up at the huge wall of TV monitors. The mid-morning shift presenters David Fitzpatrick and Clare Anderson were still in the process of introducing him, the look of nervousness was clear on their faces. Jerry leant close to the microphone and pressed the talkback button.

  “Remember what we discussed guys, good luck,” he whispered into their earpieces. There was that familiar sound of delay before the caller spoke.

  “Oh, hi. Thanks for putting me on air, I appreciate it.” David Fitzpatrick seemed troubled by Pop’s pleasantries, just as Sue Bentley had found them odd the previous day. “I hope that I have provided sufficient evidence to prove that I am who I say I am,” he said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. David replied, leaving his on-screen partner Clare silent for the moment.

  “Yes, I think that the police have confirmed that you are the man who is responsible for the spate of murders of paedophiles throughout the north west of England. Tell me, Pop, are you happy to stop the murders now that you have caught everybody’s attention?”

  The question was the first of twenty or so that Jerry had prepared and had stored on the autocue. Pop’s obvious amusement at the question caused a nervous look to cross both presenters’ faces. He greeted the question with a heckling scoff.

  “I’ll tell you, I’m happy to commit murders! Heh heh, I’m not so sure about stopping them just yet. But, yes, I am glad that I have also aroused the attention of the senior authorities. I’m sure that they would agree with me that this kind of activity, the activity that I am currently undertaking, has been imminent for many years. Don’t allow yourselves to think that this will have come as any great shock to them.”

  Again, Jerry was stunned by the control that Pop displayed in his calmness. His cool manner was like that of a football fan offering his opinions of a game he’d just watched his team win. The other presenter, Clare Anderson saw an opportunity to step into the interview.

  “We are all watching this story with fervent interest. A lot of people are hailing you as a hero. Was that your intention at the start of this?”

  “No. Of course not. As I said yesterday, I’ll make my personal crusade clear to everybody as soon as I start to see some progress. I’m not a fool, but I am not a very experienced criminal either. In fact, I’ve only been a criminal for sixteen days, so you might say that I am still quite new to the game. But, to answer your question, I don’t believe that anything I am doing is remotely “heroic”. All I will say is that I am delighted to have been greeted the press in such a positive way. One of my initial fears was that maybe I would be greeted with some adversity. It’s nice to know that it’s not only me who believes that this country’s haphazard procedure on dealing with child molesters has finally run its course. I’m glad that it’s not just me who thinks that a time for change has finally arrived. It seems to me that, finally, people are no longer content with hearing stories about headmasters who have abused five of their pupils being sentenced to two-hundred hours community service - and I think this day has been a long time coming.”

  The Sky presenters seemed in admiration of Pop’s statement. They were evidently in support of what he was saying - their gestures of nodding, “mmming” and concentrating were subtle, yet obvious. Andrew continued with the prepared questions.

  “So Pop, what can we expect you to do next?” Upon hearing the question actually being relayed, Jerry realised that it was far too frank. There could be a strong argument for “sensationalism” or “goading” with a question like that. He listened to Pop’s response with concern.

  “Well, that’s a good question. Obviously, I’m aware that by now, I am looking at a jail term that would imprison me for the rest of my natural life, so my attitude at present, for my own contentment, is to make those long years in prison count. I will continue to murder paedophiles until I am caught. I figure that each one I kill equates to at least one kid being spared, and that is basically what you can expect from me until I am caught.” Pop’s delivery was calm and succinct, but as he continued
, his voice was clearly being drained with emotion. “In the meantime, I will hopefully bring awareness to the issue, the issue in my eyes is as simple as this - people who rape and sexually interfere with children are being told by my government, the government I help to pay for, that paedophiles can expect to spend two to three years in prison at most for that offence. It doesn’t affect the victim for two or three years, it affects them for life. I honestly can’t believe that this happens, but it actually does. If I can help to put a stop to this madness, then being in a prison cell until the day I die will be an absolute pleasure. I hope that everybody who is listening to me right now will do the right thing and say to the government, I will not allow this to continue. I will not let my children play out while there is a very real danger of a convicted paedophile who has been housed next door to a kid’s playground snatching my child. I won’t trust some over worked, under-paid probation officer’s judgement that the pervert poses no threat. Please, we have to stand up to the maniacs who run our country and tell them, make them understand that we will not allow it. We really can make the difference.”

  The Sky presenters had a difficult task in trying to appear completely neutral, because that was clearly a very stirring speech, and one that would probably be remembered for many years to come. Everybody in the gallery felt the poignancy of the moment. Clare asked the final question, avoiding all temptation to pick up on any of Pop’s points. “If you were to succeed, if Parliament did actually say, “Okay then Pop, what should we do?” What would your answer be?”

  Pop seemed to think for a while before answering.

  “Well you see, that kind of question could be answered differently depending on the circumstances of any given case. My gut feeling is that they should never be released from secure imprisonment, but that would be too costly. The government would rather they roam the streets if it saves their precious money. They can afford billions to spend on wars, they can afford to bail out banks, and build new railways. But they say they can’t afford to keep our kids safe by keeping paedos locked up. So, in those circumstances, the answer is simple - capital punishment. Let’s just kill these creepy bastards, every Friday afternoon, line all the monsters up, let the parents of the kids that they raped shoot them dead. That’s my belief. But, I know that’s never going to happen, it’s far too vulgar. Listen, I’m going to have to get on, I’ve got my work to do. One of my next targets hosted a sex party where he actually raped his own son and then let a few of his monster mates rape the little lad too. Hey, guess what - he got sentenced to four years for that, and was out in two. That’s what I’m talking about, that’s what I want to put an end to. Thanks for your time guys, keep up the good work.”