George Murphy began his search of the site, as he had promised. His wife stood a few steps behind him, checking the shapes outlined in the beam of the torch. Finally, George climbed down into the air-raid shelter. His torch beam played around the debris and suddenly his wife gave out a blood-curdling scream. There, lying on the ground, amongst the rubble, was the body of Ronald Varley.
George’s first instinct, quite naturally, was to pick up the child but another of the searchers, Alfred Brindle, alerted by the scream, ran to the scene and advised George to leave everything where it was until the police arrived. There might be valuable forensic evidence, or other clues on the boy’s body. George Murphy stepped back and the body remained undisturbed.
The police investigation soon revealed some very interesting information. Sarah Letitia Dean ran Hall’s shop, a confectioners and tobacconists, from 62 Tollington Way. She recalled Ronald coming into the shop, at some time between 6.15pm and 6.30pm, and buying two petrol tubes for a lighter. Sarah was absolutely certain that Ronald had paid her with a 6d piece, and received a 3d piece in change. Ronald’s mother was equally certain that she had only given him three pennies and that Ronald had no money of his own. Where had he got that 6d piece, and why had it taken him so long to get to the shop? Also, the transaction meant that Ronald should still have had a 3d piece and three Id pieces, but no money was found on or near his body. He did, however, have the two petrol tubes. One was close to his feet and the other lay near his left hand.
There was also the fact that when his body was found, Ronald’s fly-buttons were undone. The boy wore short trousers and his mother confirmed that whenever he needed to urinate, he would do so by lifting his trouser leg up, not by undoing his flys. The suggestion was that the motive for the crime was some sort of sexual attack, though the post-mortem would confirm that Ronald had not been raped, but had been strangled to death.
A potentially important witness had also come forward by this time. Stanley William Harris was twelve years old and lived at 29 Landseer Road. At 6.10pm on 24 December, Stanley, his ten-year- old sister Patsy and his three-year-old brother Jimmy had gone to Hall’s shop, to buy some cigarettes for their father. As they passed the bomb shelter, Jimmy fell over some rubble and grazed his leg. As Stanley wiped his brother’s leg, with his handkerchief, a man approached them, from the doorway of the shelter. The man asked what had happened and Jimmy started to tell him but, when he looked up, the man had vanished. Jimmy was, however, able to give a description of the man. He was about five feet two inches tall, around sixty years old and had a tear in his trouser leg.
The police investigation continued and part of that was a series of door-to-door enquiries. It was this that led Constable Kitching to knock on the door of a mission hall at 93 Tollington Way. There was no reply, but the dutiful Kitching called at the address repeatedly until, finally, on the afternoon of 26 December, the door was opened by sixty-three-year-old Harry Morley, the caretaker.
Seeing the officer’s uniform, Morley immediately said: ‘I know nothing about it. It is a terrible business. I never went out. I didn’t hear any screams. I never heard a thing. When I came home at quarter past six there were no children about, which is most unusual.’
Morley was asked to give details of his movements on 24 December. He explained that he was actually the caretaker of two mission halls. His main work was at the one situated in Elthorne Road, but he lived at this one in Tollington Way. He explained that he had been carrying out his duties at Elthorne Road and had, as he had explained, arrived home at 6.15pm and not got out again.
Constable Kitching reported all his findings at the police station later that same day and, with each report, included a brief description of any male he had spoken to. Once all the reports were filed, it was seen that the description of Morley, as given by Kitching, was a very close match to the one given by Stanley Harris of the man he had seen in the shelter. It was decided to take a closer look at Harry Morley.
When Constable Kitching returned to 93 Tollington Way, he had with him Detective Inspector Jack Miller and Divisional Detective Inspector Albert Hare. Morley, once again, immediately went onto the defensive. He said he had not spoken to any children at all, but was asked to go to the police station to make a written statement.
It was whilst Morley was waiting to be interviewed that Inspector Miller noticed some fibre flecks on Morley’s trousers. When Ronald’s body had been discovered, it had been laying close to an old cushion, which had some of the stuffing coming out of it. The fibres on Morley’s clothing seemed to be identical to those on the cushion so samples were taken for analysis. Inspector Miller also saw a mark on the shoulder of Morley’s jacket. It looked like brick dust, or possibly whitewash and again indicated that he might well have been inside the shelter.
Morley was questioned at length and, after some time, admitted that he had, after all, spoken to some children. He recalled speaking to a boy who had fallen over and later shouted at two boys who were sitting on the edge of a water tank. He still maintained that he had never been into the shelter where Ronald’s body was found.
Later still, the story changed again. Now he admitted that he had been in the shelter but only because he had suddenly been overcome with diarrhoea and had to defecate. It was gently pointed out to him that no trace of that had been found in the shelter. Morley thought hard for a few moments then claimed that he had done it in a newspaper, carried it home and flushed it down the toilet.
It was obvious that the police believed none of this. A report, drawn up at the time of these interviews by Inspector Miller, and preserved in The National Archives, at Kew, show that he believed Morley to be, ‘garrulous, effeminate, crafty and a typical old sodomite’. It was, of course, long before the advent of political correctness.
After further questioning, Morley admitted that he had been in the shelter with Ronald after all. He claimed that the boy had come to him voluntarily and denied that he had touched him sexually in any way. He ended his admission with: ‘I love children,’ before making a full statement, in which he admitted giving Ronald a sixpenny piece.
This made an interesting admission. The police knew that Ronald had been to the shop and paid for the petrol with a 6d. Morley must, therefore, have encountered Ronald before he went to Hall’s, and then waited for him afterwards and taken him into the shelter, probably for a sexual purpose. Then he had either panicked at what he had done, or the boy had struggled, and Morley had strangled him. As a result, Morley was charged with murder, at 12.30pm on 27 December 1947.
Morley’s trial took place in February 1948, before Mr Justice Birkett. The first witness was Stanley Harris who detailed what he had seen on 24 December. Unfortunately for the prosecution, though Stanley was an excellent witness, he could not say with certainty that the man he had seen was the prisoner in the dock.
Terence Fleming was eight years old and lived at 120 Sussex Way. He knew Ronald very well, as they were in the same class at school. On 24 December, Terence had been sent to Hall’s shop, to get some cigarettes for his father but, on the way, he had stopped to look into the window of the bicycle shop nearby. As he looked at the gleaming machines he noticed Ronald leaving Hall’s shop and heading off in the direction of his house. The two boys waved to each other. Terence believed that this was at about 6.10pm, but he couldn’t be sure.
Archibald Burman lived at 64 Tollington Way, but on the evening of 24 December, he had gone to visit his parents at number 95. Whilst he was there his mother asked him to dispose of some old empty milk bottles, and Archibald had put seven or eight into a bag, with the intention of dumping them in the air-raid shelter.
It was around 6.40pm when he approached the shelter, but he saw a man standing at the entrance, so, instead of going in, Archibald dumped the bottles near the bombed out shop. As he did so, the man from the shelter walked past him, heading towards Cornwallis Road. The description Archibald gave did not match Morley. The man he had seen was aged thirty-six to for
ty, about five eight to five ten and had a long thin face.
There was, however, the fact that Morley had admitted being in the shelter with Ronald. The jury found it impossible to believe that Morley, a known homosexual, had taken a child into the shelter, left him alive and well and then someone else had gone in and killed the child. The verdict, when it came on 12 February, was that Morley was guilty and he was then sentenced to death.
An appeal was entered, and duly dismissed, but Morley did not hang. On 5 April 1948, his defence team received notification from the Home Office that His Majesty had commuted the sentence to one of life imprisonment.
Chapter 36
Michael Demetrios Xinaris
1955
Nineteen-year-old James Frederick Robinson was home on leave from the Army and, on the evening of Friday 18 February 1955, had been out with a couple of his friends. By some time after 10.30pm, the group were in the Blue Kettle cafe, which was situated in an alleyway off Islington High Street.
At around 11.00pm, a group of Teddy boys, dressed in their elaborate uniforms, also entered the cafe. Robinson found this most amusing, and made a few derogatory remarks about the group. One of them, Michael Xinaris, a Cypriot, known to his friends as Nicky, took objection to this and the two men squared up for a fight.
Friends of both men managed to get the intended combatants to sit down again at their respective tables, but the peace was short lived. It was clear that sooner or later, this would escalate into a full fist-fight and so the owner of the establishment, Frank Luigi Lurati, suggested that if they wanted to fight, they should take it outside. The two men, along with various friends, then strolled outside and the sounds of a fight then shattered the quiet night air.
It was only a couple of minutes later that Frank Lurati went outside. To his horror he found that Robinson was now lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from a deep wound in his neck. He had been stabbed and, as Luarto looked up, he saw eighteen-year-old Xinaris running away down the High Street.
The police were called and two officers, Constable John Miles and Constable John Coker, arrived in the alleyway at around 11.30pm. It was Miles who accompanied Robinson in the ambulance that carried him to hospital. Constable Coker stayed at the crime scene and guarded the discarded knife, which lay on the ground close to where Robinson had been lying. Later, he would hand the weapon over to Detective Sergeant Kenneth Percival but, by that time, James Robinson had been delivered to the hospital, where he was pronounced as dead on arrival.
A number of witnesses gave the police the name of Nicky Xinaris, as the man who had inflicted the fatal wound, and he was arrested at his home, 276 City Road, Finsbury, early the following morning, Saturday 19 February. Charged with murder, Xinaris faced his trial on 15 April 1955.
Rudolph Farace was one of Xinaris’s friends, and had been with him on the night of the attack upon Robinson. Farace stated that the group had gone to the shopping arcade in the High Street at Islington, and from there decided to go for a coffee in the Blue Kettle. They had sat at a table near the door, whilst Robinson and his friends were sitting near the tea urn, close to the counter. After recounting the details of the argument inside the cafe, Farace confirmed that they had then gone outside into the alleyway, where Robinson struck the first blow, hitting Xinaris in the side of the head on the left side. Farace had then briefly gone back inside the cafe, ostensibly to tell those who had remained at the tables that there was a fight going on. By the time he got back outside, Robinson was standing between numbers 28 and 30 High Street. He had blood coming out of his mouth and neck, as he staggered back into the alleyway and fell. There was no sign of Xinaris at that time.
Robert Ernest Allsop was another of the young men in Xinaris’s group. He had heard some sort of remark from Robinson, whereupon Xinaris had stood in front of the table, staring down at him. Robinson had said: ‘Who are you looking at?’ to which Xinaris had replied: ‘Looking at you.’ As they then moved towards each other, it was Rudolph Furnace who stood between them and separated them. Then, as they all sat down again at the table, Allsop saw Farace reach into his pocket and hand something to Xinaris.
After Frank Lurati, the cafe proprietor, had given his evidence, the prosecution called Henry George Young. He was a friend of the dead man, and had been with him at the table close to the counter, when the gang of Teddy Boys came in. Also sitting with him and Robinson was James Ingram and, after the initial remarks and the two men squaring up to each other, it had been Young and Ingram who both pulled Robinson back down into his seat. After the fight had taken place outside, Young had seen the knife lying on the ground, and had stood near it so that none of Xinaris’s friends could pick it up. When the two constables arrived, Young pointed out the knife and, once the ambulance had arrived, Young also went in the ambulance to the hospital.
Dr Anthony Bashford had attended to the patient as soon as the ambulance arrived at the hospital, but there was nothing he could do for Robinson. He was dead by the time he arrived at 11.45pm.
The post-mortem had been carried out by Professor Cedric Keith Simpson. He reported three stab wounds on Robinson’s body. The first was a three-inch-deep and quite long wound on the left hip. The second was a wound on the left arm, but the fatal wound was a five-inch-deep one on the left side of the neck, underneath Robinson’s jaw. This wound had severed the carotid artery and opened up Robinson’s windpipe. Robinson had lost a great deal of blood, especially from that last wound, and that haemorrhage was the direct cause of death.
There could be no doubt that Xinaris was responsible for Robinson’s death and the jury only deliberated for a short time, before returning their guilty verdict, though they did add a recommendation to mercy. Only now could it be revealed that just two months before the attack upon James Robinson, Xinaris had been arrested for carrying a knife, and had been warned as to his future behaviour by the magistrates. There could, of course, now only be one sentence for the murder and, having donned the black cap, the judge duly sentenced Nicky Xinaris to death by hanging.
An appeal was entered and heard on 25 May, before Justices Hilbery, Gorman and Havers. They saw no reason to interfere with either the verdict, or the sentence and the appeal was dismissed.
Michael Xinaris did not, however, pay the ultimate penalty for his crime. No doubt due to the fact that he was so young, the sentence was commuted to one of life imprisonment.
Records preserved at The National Archives at Kew show that the authorities wished, in fact, to add to that punishment. It was suggested that once he had served his sentence, Xinaris should be deported to his native Cyprus. After much debate, and a number of letters being exchanged, the powers that be eventually ruled that since Xinaris had lived in England since he was a baby, he had no real links with Cyprus and so could not be thrown out of the country.
Michael Xinaris only served some eight and a half years in prison. He was released on licence on 18 October 1963.
Chapter 37
Ronald Henry Marwood
1959
At 10.30pm, on the night of Sunday 14 December 1958, Constable Raymond Henry Summers was on his beat, at the corner of Seven Sisters Road and Isledon Road. He was walking towards Holloway Road, when he saw what looked like a massive street fight.
A large group of youths, perhaps thirty strong or more, were milling about on the pavement outside Grey’s Dancing Academy, at 133 Seven Sisters Road. Bravely, Summers went to investigate and, seeing him approach, many of the youths ran off. However, by the time he arrived at the scene, there were still perhaps a dozen men standing around.
Tempers were running high, and it was clear that in order to nip the problem in the bud, Summers would have to move people on. Again not seeking to take the easy way out of this situation, Constable Summers approached one of the tallest and biggest men there: Michael David Bloom, a man aged twenty-four and standing six feet three inches tall. Words were exchanged, and Summers decided that he would have to arrest Bloom. The two men strugg
led for a few moments, but eventually Summers managed to grab hold of one of Bloom’s arms and pin it up behind his back. The officer then began to walk Bloom away from the scene, when another member of the group, Ronald Henry Marwood, stepped forward and appeared to strike the Constable in his back.
In fact, Marwood had had a knife in his hand and Summers had now been stabbed. In great pain and losing a good deal of blood, Summers had no choice but to release his grip on Bloom, and watch as the two young men, and their friends, ran off in different directions. Constable Summers managed to stagger off down the street and, in all, hobbled a total of forty-three yards before he collapsed outside the Co-operative store, further down Seven Sisters Road.
Frederick Francis McLoughlin and Edward Walter Hassall had both been walking down Seven Sisters Road, and had seen part of the attack on Constable Summers. They had also seen the men run off, and Summers staggering along the road. They, of course, had no idea at this stage that Summers had been stabbed but, once he fell, they ran forward to see what help they could offer. A passing car, driven by Kenneth Edward Hudd, was stopped. There was a telephone box close by and Hudd immediately rang for the police, but it was obvious that the officer had been badly hurt and needed urgent medical attention. Rather than wait for an ambulance, McLoughlin, Hassall and Hudd all helped to gently place Summers in Hudd’s car, and they then drove the stricken officer to the Royal Northern Hospital in Holloway Road. It was all to no avail. Constable Summers was dead by the time the three samaritans managed to get him to the hospital.
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