by Gitta Sereny
“The place was swarming with police,” June Brown remembers. “But people were worried—really worried, especially everybody who had small children. We kept looking out for them, calling after them.”
“We were real nervous,” Rita Finlay added, “but the kids themselves felt it too. They were ‘bunching’—know what I mean?”
“There were, of course, a lot of inconsistencies in many of the answers in the questionnaires,” Mr. Dobson said. “You know what kids are. We saw several of them several times. I looked more thoroughly at the forms of about a dozen children.” Among those who were visited repeatedly by the police because of unclear replies were Norma Bell and Mary Bell.
Detective-Constable Kerr visited Norma Bell at 4 P.M. on 1 August to ask her to clarify her answer to question 8 (“Do you know anyone who played with Brian? If so:—Name and address . . .”).
“Of course, they were overcrowded,” Detective-Constable Kerr says of the family. “But they gave me the impression of a close and happy family.” He talked to Norma, her mother, and several of the other children. “I thought Norma was peculiar,” he said. “She was continually smiling as if it was a huge joke. Her mother kept saying, ‘Didn’t you hear what he asked? Answer the question.’”
Norma finally gave Detective-Constable Kerr a supplementary statement:
The HOWE family moved in to our street about one year ago and little Brian HOWE started to play with my brothers John Henry and Hugh Bell.
Brian also used to play with John and Jacqueline Blackett, 111 St Margaret’s Road, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. They all used to play round about our street, St Margaret’s Road, and in different back gardens. I have never seen any of them playing near the railway lines, behind the Delaval Arms public house. I have only been down there about 2 or 3 times, and the last time was months ago.
The last time I saw Brian HOWE was about 12.45 p.m., Wednesday, 31 July 1968, when he was playing with his brother and two little girls on the corner of Whitehouse Road and Crosshill Road. I cannot say who the little girls were.
Between 1 p.m. and 5 p.m. that day, I played in my street with Gillian and Linda Routledge, 59 Whitehouse Road. We were making pom-poms. [Next to this sentence, on the statement, appears the police remark “verified.”]
After leaving Norma Bell’s house, Detective-Constable Kerr went next door to No. 70, to see Mary. In her case he was checking her replies to questions 6 (“. . . When did you last see Brian?”) and 9 (“Were you playing behind the Delaval Arms Public House near to the railway lines between 1 P.M. and 5 P.M., Wednesday, 31 July 1968?”).
“It was a very different atmosphere in there,” he said. “No feeling of a home, just a shell. Very peculiar . . . the only life one felt was that big dog barking. Mary was the most evasive child I’d ever come across. And her father was very odd. I asked him, ‘You be her father?’ and he said, ‘No, I am her uncle.’ ‘Where are her parents?’ I asked and he answered, ‘She’s only got a mother and she’s away on business.’ All the questions I asked her, she was continually looking at him for guidance.”
Detective-Constable Kerr wrote to Mary’s dictation:
I last saw Brian Howe in Whitehouse Road about 12.30 p.m. Wednesday, 31 July 1968, when he was playing with his brother. I did not go near the Railway Lines or the waste ground near there at all on Wednesday, 31 July 1968. I have been down there before, but it was at least two months ago.
Later that evening, Detective-Constable Kerr saw Norma once more—by this time it was 7:05 P.M. This time she added a little more information:
Further to my first statement, I would like to say that on Wednesday, 31 July 1968, I met Mary Flora BELL . . . in the pathway of my home. This was about 11.30 a.m. in the morning. We went out to play in our back garden and for a few minutes in her back garden. We stayed there until I went in for my dinner at 1.30 p.m.
At 2.30 p.m. I went and called on Mary Flora BELL and we went to Davy’s shop which is at the end of St Margaret’s Road. We stayed at the shop about half an hour, and played with Elaine the daughter of the owner of Davy’s shop.
We walked back along home, then Mary Flora BELL went into the house for about 10 minutes. I went into my own house.
About 3.15 p.m. that day I went out the back way and met Mary Flora BELL. We crossed our back garden, went up the garden path, and into Whitehouse Road, and we just played in the street until about 5 p.m.
I then went over to Gillian and Linda ROUTLEDGE’S house and we sat on their front step making pom-poms. As far as I know Mary Flora BELL just went into her house.
I didn’t see her again until 7 p.m. in the back lane behind our house, when she was on her own. I don’t know where she had been.
On the next day, 2 August, Detective-Sergeant Docherty went to see Mary about some further inconsistencies in her answers. It turned out she, too, had remembered something else. She said that on the Wednesday afternoon Brian Howe was killed, she saw a little boy, A., standing by himself in Delaval Road, and he was covered with grass and little purply flowers. She said she had seen A. play with Brian Howe a lot and that she had seen him hit Brian for no reason at all. And that he had hit Brian around the face and neck. She further said that she had seen A. play with a pair of scissors “like silver-colored and something wrong with the scissors, like one leg was either broken Or bent.” “And I saw him trying to cut a cat’s tail off with those scissors,” she remembered.
“A.,” said Chief-Inspector Dobson, “was eight. When we read Mary Bell’s statement mentioning those scissors we had found lying in the grass near Brian Howe’s body, they had not been photographed or described by any of the newspapers. We spent two days on A. He was the first child I saw myself. He was a kid who was not very quick for his age—but he stuck to his story and it was confirmed by others. Of course, in cases where children are involved, one is prepared for parents to cover up for them. But in those two days we didn’t only see his parents—we saw everybody who had, even remotely, anything to do with his story. But everything the boy—and his father—said was borne out by the statements of all the other people: A. had played with Brian Howe until Brian went away. In the afternoon he went with his mother, grandmother, and stepfather to the airport. They came back at 7:45 and had tea at their house in another part of Newcastle. After that he played there in the street till he went back to Scotswood with his grandmother, at ten P.M. This was confirmed by a man the stepfather knew who had seen them at the airport that afternoon. Everything A. had said had proved true. But Mary Bell had said that she saw A. with those scissors: how did Mary Bell know about those scissors which could have been used to make those puncture marks on Brian’s body? How could she know enough to describe exactly what they were like?
“Those two girls, Mary Bell and Norma Bell, had already changed their statements twice,” Chief-Inspector Dobson said. “By that time we had pretty well eliminated everybody else. I had not seen them yet, but they had remained in a pocket of my mind: it had to be them, or one of them.”
On 4 August at 7:45 P.M., Detective-Constable Thompson went back to talk to Norma once more about her whereabouts on 31 July. He pointed out to her that she had said she had been playing with her brothers and sisters during those hours, but several other people had said that they had seen her in the streets with Mary Bell and Mary Bell’s dog, who was known all over Scotswood for his ferocity.
She insisted for quite a while that what she had said in her two statements was true, but then suddenly began to cry and said, “Can I talk to you without my dad being here?” Her father left the room, and Norma said, “I was down Delaval Road with Mary and the dog. Mary took me to see Brian.” Detective-Constable Thompson then stopped her, called her father in, and said he was taking Norma to the police station. She said, “I don’t want my father there.” Mr. Bell agreed that she should go alone.
Meanwhile Detective-Constable Kerr had once again called at No. 70. Mary came to the door. “I said, ‘Can I come in?’ She said, ‘No.’ I asked her
why not. ‘My uncle’s not in,’ she said. I asked here where he was and she said at the pub and I told her to go get him. Billy Bell was very hostile when they got back and Mary was again continually looking at him. Of course, I believed he was her uncle—I had no reason not to. And I had the feeling that this uncle was only passing through—you know, not living there. I got no further information from them that evening.”
Chief-Inspector Dobson saw Norma Bell for the first time at 8:10 P.M. that night, in her father’s presence. “She was pale and nervous,” he said, “her eyes darted from one of us to the other and there was this nervous smile that turned to tears at the drop of a hat.”
“Norma,” he told her, “I am Chief-Inspector Dobson, this is Detective-Inspector Laggan, and you already know Detective-Constable Thompson. I am obliged by law to tell you that you are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but that anything you say may be taken down in writing, and may be given in evidence. . . .
“Now,” Mr. Dobson continued, “I understand that you have something you want to tell me about the death of Brian Howe.”
“I went with Mary Bell down to the blocks the day that Brian was lost and I tripped over his head,” she said.
“What do you mean, you tripped over his head?”
“When I went into the blocks I tripped over something. I looked down and saw it was Brian’s head. He was covered with grass but I could see all his face. He was dead.”
“What happened then?”
“Mary said, ‘I squeezed his neck and pushed up his lungs. That’s how you kill them. Keep your nose dry and don’t tell anybody.’”
“How do you know he was dead?” Chief-Inspector Dobson asked.
“His lips were purple. Mary ran her fingers along his lips. She said she had enjoyed it.”
“Did you see anything else on his face?”
“What do you mean?” Norma asked.
“Was there any blood on his face?”
“No, there was no blood, but he had a funny mark on his nose.”
“Were his eyes open or shut?”
“They were open.”
“Did you see any other part of his body?”
“Just his arm, which was out at his side, his hand was black. I could only see his red jersey.”
“Which arm could you see?”
“It was his left arm.”
“Did you see anything near Brian?”
“No, but Mary showed me a razor and said she had cut his belly. She pulled his jersey up and showed me the tiny cut on his belly. She hid the razor under a block and told me not to tell my dad or she would get into trouble.”
“Could you show me where the razor is hidden?” Mr. Dobson asked, and Norma replied, “Yes.”
At 8:30 P.M. Norma was taken to the spot where Brian had been found dead. “It’s under there,” she said and pointed to the corner of a concrete block. Mr. Dobson pulled the grass away from the bottom of the block and under the edge of the block was a silver-colored razor blade. He went back to Norma who was standing some yards away. “What sort of razor was it that you told me about? Was it one that opens like a knife?”
“No,” she said, “it was a razor blade.” He showed it to her. “Is that it?”
“That’s it,” she said.
“Show me where you saw Brian lying, and where his head was.”
She pointed to the space where the body had been found. “It was there,” she said, “but that hole wasn’t there—it was all grass.”
Chief-Inspector Dobson told her to lie down next to the hole and show him the position the body had been in. Norma lay down, on her back, with her left arm bent out at a level with her shoulder, palm uppermost, and her head on one side, in exactly the position Brian’s body had been found.
Less than half an hour later, at 9:10 P.M., Mr. Dobson saw Norma again at the police station, in her father’s presence. He asked her whether she wanted to make a written statement about what she had told him earlier and she said, “Yes.” The following appears in the records:
I, Norma Joyce Bell, wish to make a statement. I want someone to write down what I say. I have been told that I need not say anything unless I wish to do so and that whatever I say may be given in evidence.
Signed: Norma Bell
On Wednesday, when Brian Howe got lost I was in St Margaret’s Road back lane. May Bell, that’s what I call her, but her proper name is Mary, come up to me and said she was taking the dog out. She went in and got the leader and we went away with the dog on the leader. We went down to the car park near Scotswood Road . . .
At this stage Norma stopped and looked anxiously at her father. Chief-Inspector Dobson asked her whether she wanted her father to go out and she said, “Yes.” He said that a policewoman could come and sit with her.
We went through the wire netting, then a few yards to the blocks [Norma continued after her father had left]. We walked in among the blocks and I tripped over something. I looked down and saw it was Brian Howe’s head. He was lying on his back and his left arm was out by his side with the palm up, it was covered with black dirt. May said, ‘Keep your nose dry, he’s dead.’ I could see his head and nearly all his jersey. It was a red pattern. His legs were covered with grass. Round his lips were purple. May touched his lips and his nose, there was a funny mark on his nose. His eyes were open. I knew he was dead by his face. She got hold of my neck under the chin and said that was how she had done it, by squeezing his lungs up and she enjoyed doing it. She said she took him there to harm him. She said, ‘Don’t tell your Dad or I’ll get wrong.’ May got a razor blade from under the corner of a block and showed me it. She said, ‘Don’t tell anybody’ and put it back under the block. That was where I showed you tonight. She said she had cut his belly and she pulled his jumper up and I saw a tiny red mark somewhere on his belly. There was a man on the top of the railings at the other side of the railway line, he was shouting to some kids who were playing further along and I heard one shout ‘I’m coming, dad’. We thought the man was coming over to the blocks so we went across the waste ground and jumped down into Scotswood Road. Howe’s dog came with us. We went up the steps onto Delaval Road and May let her dog off the leader. We went up past Davy’s shop onto Whitehouse Road. It was about 4 o’clock then and we had been at the blocks about ten minutes. When I got to our gate I went across to Yvonne Coleman’s opposite and played with her and Linda Routledge, Gillian her sister and David Jones. Jacqueline Coleman was there and we made pom-poms. May took the dog in and I didn’t see her for a long time. About quarter to seven I went over to Savage’s back door and Pat Howe and May was there. May said to Pat, ‘Are you looking for your Brian?’ Pat said, ‘I haven’t seen him for a long time, are you coming to help look for him?’ May said, ‘Yes’ and I said ‘Yes’. May said, ‘Howay lets go down Davy’s way first?’ We all went down to the car park and May said to Pat, ‘He might be playing behind the blocks and he might be in between the blocks.’ Pat said, ‘We’ll just look around for him and if we don’t find him by seven o’clock, we’ll go to the police station at the top.’ I went back to Linda’s and they went up to the top of Whitehouse Road. Pat came back and asked me if I would go to the phone with her cause Brian was lost, but I said ‘No’ and I just played with Linda till half past eight. I went home and stayed in. Yesterday or the day before, May said that it was in the paper that an 11 year-old or a 14 year-old girl had killed Brian and would be caught by that night. She was happy when she said that.2 When we were looking at Brian on Wednesday, May said she was not frightened of dead bodies cause she had seen a few. I didn’t tell anybody about it cause I was frightened and if I had snitched May could have taken anyone else’s bairn. The last time I saw Brian was about dinner time when he was playing with Norman. I forgot to say when we left Brian, May put some purple flowers on top of the grass that was over Brian.
Cert: I have read the above statement and I have been told that I can correct, alter or add anything I wish. This statement
is true. I have made it of my own free will.
It took Norma an hour to give this statement. At 10:30 P.M., with her father’s agreement, she was taken to stay at Fernwood Remand Home, a County Council Children’s Home for girls in Newcastle.
Chief-Inspector Dobson and two police constables went to Mary Bell’s home two hours later—at 12:15 A.M. on Monday, 5 August. The house was in darkness except for a blazing fire and the television which was going full blast. The children, Mary, B., C., and D., were asleep upstairs.
“In a murder inquiry,” Mr. Dobson said, “you have to forge ahead. You ignore the time of day or night; when you have to see somebody you see them, never mind who they are or what time of day it is.”
Billy Bell was watching television. “He said his wife was away. I said I wanted to question Mary at the police station and he refused to wake her up. I said it would be easier for her if he woke her up and got her dressed, but if he wouldn’t, we were prepared to go in and do it.”
Billy Bell then asked them to wait outside. After a moment he came out, closed the door behind him, and said he was just going across the road to get his sister, Mrs. S.
“I thought he’d gone to get her to sit with the other kids while he came with Mary,” said Mr. Dobson, “but actually it was Mrs. S. who came in the car. She was very good too. She sat in the back with Mary, she had her arm around her, held her, and all the way to the police station she kept talking to her, very sensibly you know, very nice, telling her to tell the truth.”
Billy Bell’s sister Audrey is small, slim, and attractive, with a careworn face which lights up when she smiles.
“I took them straight up to my room,” Mr. Dobson said. “We didn’t have to go through the main office, but anyway it was a quiet night. I got some tea brought up right away and biscuits. We all had some. But Mary didn’t seem very bothered—she was fresh-faced, chirpy, and confident. She was completely alert in spite of being woken up like that.” The Chief-Inspector cautioned her and told her he was making inquiries into the death of Brian Howe on Wednesday, 31 July 1968. “I have reason to believe that you can help me with these inquiries,” he finally said.