Real Hard Cases

by Robert Jeffrey

  There was yet another surprising development to crawl out of the woodwork in this more-than-twenty-year-old tale. The local newspaper now had the bit between its teeth and was covering the investigations, new and old, in-depth. They gave me the name and telephone number of a woman and suggested I contact her. This woman told me that, at the time of the murder, she worked for a voluntary organisation and, in this role, she spoke to a woman seeking advice on a matter that had been troubling her. This woman claimed that, on the day Gilmour was convicted, she had gone to the Paisley police to tell them he was innocent. She said she had picked up a man at a pub on the night of Pamela’s murder and she had awakened during the night to find him in tears. When she asked what the matter was, he told her he had ‘killed that girl in the woods’.

  This was not what the police would want to hear on the day of what was, from their viewpoint, a successful conviction. Officially, the crime had been solved and Gilmour was the perpetrator. I tried my best to trace this woman but without success. However, the publicity was turning up other interesting facts. I was told that Robert Black and other lorry drivers used a bed-and-breakfast establishment near a Johnstone bowling club at the time of the murder. I was quickly on the streets and, being a keen bowler myself, I soon found the club and, sure enough, opposite it was a two-storey building with a wrought-iron black railing across the front. It was the place described in the tip-off.

  I knocked on the door and a young man confirmed that, at one time, it had indeed been a B&B used by long-distance lorry drivers. As we chatted, another local appeared and said that he recognised me as the man investigating the Pamela Hastie murder. He went on to say that the infamous Robert Black had used the place and had, on occasion, gone over to the bowling club for a drink with the other drivers. I concealed my astonishment and asked how he knew this about Black. I was told that it was common knowledge. I went across the road to the club and saw a guy I knew to be a fellow indoor bowler. He and others confirmed that Robert Black used to drink there.

  At the time of the Johnstone murders, Black worked as a van driver delivering posters to addresses all over the UK. After his conviction, the police reopened numerous unsolved murder inquiries. In his job driving around Britain, he had to keep his receipts for petrol and these chits are invaluable in placing Black in certain areas of the country and proving the dates he was there. I passed all the information gleaned from my Search for Justice inquiry to Detective Chief Superintendent Roger Orr, of Lothian and Borders Police. He was the Scottish arm of a consortium of international senior detectives engaged in the task of looking at unsolved murders and I hoped my information would help him discover if Black could be connected to any of them.

  The reply I got from Mr Orr was pretty unequivocal – they ruled out Black having been anywhere near Johnstone at the time of the murder. So that appears to be that and now there is no doubt that the mystery man who ran from the woods remains just that – a mystery man.

  Another piece of interesting information I discovered was that a noted psychologist, Ray Wyre, had interviewed Black after he had been convicted. I phoned him and he was cooperative. He had talked to Black over a period of years but this hugely evil man would not discuss any case he had not been convicted of and flatly refused to help the police. You would imagine that, if you were asked about cases in which you were not involved, you would simply say so. Incidentally, Wyre was of the view that Black could have been responsible for the murders of fifteen or more children.

  This intriguing case of Raymond Gilmour caught the eye of TV and an excellent Channel 4 programme Trial and Error proved beyond doubt that this was an unsafe conviction. Interestingly, the owner of the B&B establishment I had traced appeared on the programme with another titbit. At the time of the Pamela Hastie murder, one of the guests had cut off his hair with a pair of scissors and departed the establishment early despite the fact that he had paid in advance and was still owed another night. And another perhaps significant bit of evidence came to me later. It included a report that Black had a pal in Johnstone in the ice-cream van business – what easier way to mix with young kids?

  In August 2002, Raymond Gilmour was freed on parole, pending an appeal, following an investigation by the Scottish Criminal Cases Review Commission. Up to this point, his continuing insistence of his innocence had cost him any chance of parole. His appeal is still pending. My own opinion is that the man who killed Pamela Hastie is the man, whoever he was, who collided with the van driven by Andrew Henderson. I am convinced of the innocence of Raymond Gilmour. Charlie Craig is dead but one thing is at least clear – the bonnet of Andrew Henderson’s van should have been tested for prints.

  8

  SERIOUS RETAIL REFRESHMENT – FREE

  There is a rather chauvinist joke about where a woman goes when the going gets tough. A trip to major-league shops, a hit on the husband’s credit card, a nice cup of tea and a journey home festooned with shopping bags sporting upmarket logos can work wonders. Retail refreshment is powerful medicine and I suppose it does work. But, for the detective, shopping or, in his case, shoplifting can turn up interesting cases where the customer takes a trip to the stores and leaves well refreshed with no money changing hands. And here I am not talking about little old ladies who nick a tin of ham off the bottom shelf of a corner shop. There are ‘super shoplifters’ and large shoplifting gangs who, despite specialising in non-violent crime, can sometimes be as ingenious and as hard to catch as some of their more ruthless brethren.

  But it has to be admitted that many shoplifters are well known to the cops and sometimes it is far from a hard case to nab them. A classic example was a guy called Shorty who turned out to be better known to the police than even a naturally suspicious copper like myself would believe possible. He was a regular criminal who was lifted for all sorts of minor offences, including shoplifting.

  On one occasion, he had been arrested by cops in the Shawlands area and, having heard of me, he told the desk cops he wanted to speak to me. I turned up not knowing quite what to expect but Shorty said he wanted a favour. He told me that, if I had the power to release him there and then, he would return to the police station voluntarily the next morning – guaranteed. I was shocked when he told me the reason it was so important that he got out that night. He said he was needed to play on the left wing of a police football team. Apparently he had mates in the Tobago Street Police Station team and they had a particularly important match on that night.

  Slightly gobsmacked, as they say, I called the duty officer at Tobago Street and he said they did have a big game on that night, against another police side. I mentioned Shorty and was told he was one of their stars – a wizard on the left wing. He was not released and the team, minus their best player, was beaten. It amazed me that such a criminal was mixing socially with police officers. It adds a whole new dimension to the phrase ‘known to the police’!

  Shorty’s pals in blue must have been going around with their eyes half shut for, in his latest escapade, he was involved in some serious action. We discovered that he was selling very expensive-looking rings at a fraction of their apparent true value. We listened to what was being said on the streets and turned up enough info to allow us to intercept a car containing Shorty and a few cronies, all active criminals. I had a look at one of the rings and it seemed pretty impressive to me but, as I was no gems expert, I took it to Laing’s, a long-established and much respected jewellery store in the city. A member of the family who owned the store, Stuart Laing, offered to do a valuation himself. At first glance, he thought it might be worth more than £5000 but, as it was the CID asking the questions, he took a more careful, considered look and found that the ring was not what it appeared to be. It was zircon in a genuine valuable gold setting. We traced the rings back to a totally legitimate south-side jeweler who had sold them to Shorty at the proper price, unaware that his customer wanted them to pass off as genuine diamond rings and sell them at a considerable profit.

  This was
bad news for potential customers and bad news for the jewellery trade as well. Stuart Laing went on national television news to warn the public about the scam. It is an interesting fact that, since Shorty was known to many as a crook, the buyers of his rings thought they were getting stolen property of high value at a bargain price. It says something about greed I suppose. We chased up a few of the folk who had been fooled. One publican in Edinburgh, not on Shorty’s patch, paid five grand each for two rings! He denied it but it was obvious that Shorty, that demon of the football field, had scored again and conned him.

  Shorty’s shoplifting was not in the league of the five-quid Marks and Sparks bra snatcher but it was not quite in the league of a smart cookie I will call Tam either. Tam got me into a lot of bother (any young cops reading this take note!).

  A colleague, Detective Superintendent Davie Frew, rang me to tell me that diamonds worth £25,000 had been stolen from a store at Anderston Cross. There was a real mystery about how the thief could have got his hands on the sparklers – they had been on display under a glass-topped counter secured by six screws. To get at the jewels, the thief would have to have removed each of the screws without any of the staff noticing – unless, that is, it was an inside job and the screws had been loosened or someone was determined not to notice them being removed.

  Smart cookie or not, Tam had been spotted in a car park at the rear of the store around the time of the theft and Davie Frew told me that Tam and his common-law wife, a prostitute, had been lifted at their home. One of them was taken to the Turnbull Street office and the other was whisked off to Cranstonhill.

  Tam was being difficult and denying being involved so Davie, aware that I knew him, asked if I would help. It is surprising at times how strong the bond between low-life couples can be. Tam was annoyed that his ‘wife’ had been dragged into the investigation and said, if she was released, he would admit the theft of the rings. The cops let her go and I told her to phone Tam from their home to confirm what had happened, which she did. Tam then said he would return the rings on the condition no one else got involved. He said, ‘It was me who stole them and I’ll plead guilty to that in court but only if you keep your word.’

  Davie and I discussed the deal on offer with some others. We agreed with Tam’s request that no one else would get involved so long as we recovered the rings – after all, without them, there was no case. Detective Sergeant Brian Laird and I went to an address Tam had given us – a high-rise place in Roystonhill. We were let in by a female I had never seen before who was in a wheelchair. Tam’s wife joined us and was told to produce ‘the stuff ’. She left the house and returned ten minutes later with a bag containing diamond rings with the price tags still attached (Shoplifters like to do this so that customers for their stolen merchandise know the real price.) I counted out the rings and there were seventeen. I told Tam that the shop had claimed more than seventeen had been taken. ‘They are at it,’ said this experienced crim.

  When we took the stolen jewels back to Davie at Turnbull Street, he thanked us and then Brian and I made statements about exactly what had happened. Some weeks later we had to attend the procurator fiscal’s office at Custom House Quay for a precognition (a legal statement taken in advance of possible legal proceedings) before the upcoming trial. The fiscal took me through my statement to clarify any points that might come up in court and the same was done with all other witnesses in the case. It was no surprise when I was asked to name the householder in whose home the rings had been handed over but, remembering my agreement with Tam, I refused to do so. As I said, I did not know her, never mind know her name. But, to tell the truth, I could have got it if I’d tried – the voters’ roll, for example, would have provided the info. The fiscal insisted but I told him what had happened and that I had given my word. Not good enough was the response.

  I had made a dangerous mistake. Two weeks later a letter arrived from the Crown Office in Edinburgh instructing me to name the householder and again I refused. It seems I was now not onside with the fiscal’s department. Incidentally, I was never convinced that Tam, although he admitted stealing the rings, had managed to magically remove the six screws without detection – I doubt if even David Copperfield could have done that. It seemed of some significance that Tam was a bit of a ladies’ man and all the assistants in the store were female – a little help from his friends?

  The trial was a sheriff and jury affair and Tam, on seeing who the sheriff was, said that he had appeared before him a couple of times before. He told us that, if we could arrange another court that day, he would definitely plead guilty. He was firmly told that was not on so he pled not guilty and went to trial. Well aware that a lot of people were unhappy about my involvement in the case, I had a long talk with Brian while we were waiting to be called. I told him that, if he had any problems when giving evidence, he should stick to the truth and not attempt to protect anyone. In this, I included those present that day in the high-rise in Roystonhill where the jewels were recovered.

  When I went into the box, the procurator fiscal took me through my statement and mentioned the fact that I had been asked to assist in questioning Tam because I had had previous dealings with him and, because of that, he trusted me. The fiscal asked me, ‘What was the first question you asked the accused at Turnbull Street police office?’ I answered that I asked if he had stolen the rings. I was then asked what he replied and, truthfully, I said that, at that stage, he had replied to the effect that he had not stolen the rings. The fiscal did not seem to get any inference out of this and looked puzzled. To be helpful I added that the interview had lasted over an hour – I hoped this would indicate that Tam had finally admitted the theft but only after his ‘wife’ had been released. After a few more questions, the fiscal sat down, still looking puzzled.

  Tam’s solicitor, Len Murray, one of Glasgow’s legendary pleaders, stood up and addressed me. ‘Could someone other than my client be responsible for the theft of the rings from the display stand?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied as I still didn’t see how he could have got at the rings without help.

  I went back to work and was astounded to get a call from Tam thanking me for getting him off! He then went on the make some derogatory remarks about the brainpower of the fiscal who, according to Tam, didn’t get what I was trying to tell him. It was another example of what can happen giving evidence in court where you are limited in what you can say and can only respond to the questions you are asked. If the cross-examiner does not ask the right questions, the truth can unintentionally be obscured.

  I was in some bother, though, because the outcome of the case was that the fiscal sent a letter of complaint to the chief constable, saying that, in effect, I had deliberately misled the court. It meant a trip to HQ for me to attend a meeting with Assistant Chief Constable Willie Cant who informed me of the complaint and warned me that, from then on, I would need to be ultra vigilant as the prosecuting service would be monitoring my cases carefully. I had already figured that that might be the case!

  Fans of the movies and TV will be familiar with the use of stake-outs by the police – a procedure where a house or office where criminality is suspected is watched over 24/7 by squads of detectives. Although it does happen, it is not a technique that is used in humble shoplifting cases very often. However, I remember using it once in the case of a shoplifting team led by a guy I call Bernard. Nowadays a lot of shoplifting is done by young women stealing to finance their drug habits but, back in my days on the streets, money was the simple motive.

  Organised gangs, snatching in bulk from city shops, could make a lot of cash. Bernard was the top gun in a well-organised team working mostly from the Saracen area of the city. Informers are vital to detectives and we had our own sources, as they say. Hints we were getting indicated that a well-known criminal on the other side of the town from Saracen, in douce Dennistoun, was buying big time from the shoplifting gangs and moving the stuff on at a tidy profit.

  Along wi
th a colleague, Woman Detective Constable Janet Grant, I took a stroll along the street where the resetter lived. We quickly noticed that, immediately opposite the suspect’s address, there was a flat for sale. Great – it was going to be just like the movies! Janet went to the local estate agents and got the keys and we moved in. There are jokes galore about what goes on behind the lace curtains of such flats in respectable areas but the shenanigans in this case amounted to Janet and me hiding behind the curtain armed with binoculars. After a few hours’ wait, sure enough, along came a car to stop outside the suspect’s address. Out struggled six men – one of them Bernard. As we secretly watched, all sorts of items were unloaded from the boot and they disappeared up the close. That was good enough for us – we would do some more observation and perhaps raid the place the next day.

  After a night’s sleep, we were on the way back to our stake-out when we saw a car parked outside a shop in London Road. The vehicle was known to be used for the resetting of stolen goods so we stopped our car, searched the parked car and duly found a haul of stolen stuff. We paused on our way to Dennistoun and saw to it that the two guys who had been in the car were locked up.

  When we got to Dennistoun, we saw the same car as we had seen the previous day outside the suspect’s house but, before we could make a move, five men appeared out of the close-mouth, jumped into the car and drove off. We gave chase close behind and called for help on the blower. A traffic squad car overtook us and pulled the car we were chasing into the side of the road. One of the occupants was so quick off the mark that he escaped but we lifted the rest including Bernard. The traffic guys who had helped us to nab them took them off to Tobago Street and we went back to Dennistoun.

  I knocked on the door of the house we’d been watching and a female asked who was there. ‘Bernie,’ I replied and the door opened. We walked into the living room where the owner, his son and two other men sat chatting. On a coffee table in front of them, we saw a tray of diamond rings, three obviously very expensive wristwatches, a gold cigarette lighter and more than £100 in notes. But there was more to be found in this Aladdin’s cave – a search of the place turned up two leather jackets, a fur coat, three gents’ suits, a portable TV and three valuable rugs. In the time-honoured fashion of the fence, all the goods had the original price tags dangling from them.