The Carver Articles

by Robert F Barker

  Of course any number of factors may have played a part in the changes I describe. The influences, positive as well as negative, that may come to bear on an an enquiry the size of Ford are many and diverse. The availability or lack of financial and staffing resources, personalities, investigatory successes and failures, confidence in achieving a result. All play a part in shaping the prevailing mood at any given time. But during my conversations with team members when I sought to explore possible explanations, I perceived a theme emerging, or rather, a name. Jamie Carver. Time and again, I heard the phrase, 'Oh, that was down to D.I. Carver', or variations on it. As my research went on it became increasingly clear that amongst the lower echelons of staff at least, Jamie Carver's involvement in the investigation was having a galvanising effect.

  To some extent I suspect that this would have been due to the reputation Carver already carried with him long before he became involved in Ford. Like many, I was familiar with that reputation and was aware of some of it's origins. For an officer still relatively junior in terms of both rank, (Inspector) and service, (fifteen years) Carver is credited with a string of investigatory successes and has amassed a range of experiences that many who are officially his 'senior', struggle to match. His most widely-known success - even I was aware of it - was his bringing to justice the notorious Ancoat's rapist, Churchill Wentworth, whose string of twelve attacks on women, all raped in their own homes, had brought terror to the East Manchester district some eighteen months earlier. In addition, as DI on the force's Serious Crime Squad, Carver had played key roles in several other murder and/or serious sex-crime investigations. Two of them involved repeat, ('serial') offences - one a series of attacks on gay men, (doggers), in the Peak District National Park. Following his secondment to Ford, I learned of other, 'strings to his bow.' These include helping to establish the National Crime Faculty's increasingly well-regarded, 'Operation Chainlink' as well as a study-trip to the US where he studied and worked alongside the FBI's investigators at their renowned Behavioural Sciences and Analysis Unit at Quantico. As one Ford staff member told me, 'There is nothing detectives respect more in their leaders than hard, practical experience. When it comes with the degree of success Jamie Carver has enjoyed, it counts double.'

  Added to all this was the feeling amongst those close to the investigation, (such as the press corps), that for the first time in a long time, there was a very real sense of urgency amongst the investigators. It was almost as if someone had shown them exactly what they had to do to catch the killer, that it was just a matter of time and that the sooner they got on and did it, the quicker he would be caught and the less lives would be lost. (I would later discover that in one sense, this is exactly what did happen.) Even after Hart claimed his three further victims and before the attempt that was the occasion of his arrest, my memory is that this feeling of urgency and self-belief prevailed.

  It must be said that at the time neither I nor anyone else to my knowledge associated these changes with, or attributed them to, Jamie Carver or any other single officer. To those of us who are long enough in the tooth to have covered lengthy police investigations before, it was simply another example of the sort of ebb and flow, up then down, one sees from time to time. Sometimes they are explainable. As often, they are not.

  But in this instance, having carried out my research and after speaking with so many who had worked with the man with whom I was still endeavouring to arrange a meeting, I was certain. There was an explanation, and its name was Jamie Carver. By now I was desperate to meet him.

  As luck would have it, late in the evening of the day I conducted what would prove to be my final meeting with 'Jock', (he transferred back up to his native Scotland soon after), I was sat at my desk uploading our recorded interview onto my computer when my mobile rang. My normal routine, having learned from bad experiences long ago, is to never answer unrecognised numbers. On this occasion, for some reason I still can't explain, I broke my own rule.

  I answered as I always do with simply, 'Jackson.'

  A voice I recognised at once said. 'This is Jamie Carver. I believe you've been trying to get hold of me?'

  Next Week; In the final part of this series, Alexander Jackson finally gets to interview the man who brought Edmund Hart to justice. It was Hart's vitriol-filled outburst as he was sentenced to eight life sentences that triggered questions to which Alexander Jackson felt only Jamie Carver had answers. But were they forthcoming? Find out in Part III. Do not miss it.

  PART III

  In this third and final part of his behind-the-scenes take on the Escort Killer Investigation, journalist, Andrew Jackson finally gets to interview the man he hopes will answer the questions that spurred him to seek a meeting in the first place. But as he concludes, 'If only things were so simple.'

  I finally get to meet Jamie Carver in the quiet confines of a North Wales Country House Hotel on a damp and dreary October evening. He chose the location, he says, 'So we don't bump into anyone.' At the time I remember wondering why he thought that might be a problem. I add the question to my list.

  He is already there when I arrive, sitting at a table in a remote corner, with a pint of some local micro-brewed ale in front of him the name of which escapes me. (I prefer whiskey over ale.) Dressed casually and out of his regulation suit and tie, he seems taller, a tad short of six foot, and with shoulders that seem broader than his frame allows. Black haired and with a dark complexion, I wonder if he may have some Romany blood in him, though when I ask, he claims no knowledge. I notice at once that he is a good deal more relaxed than I remember from our previous meetings, even allowing for the fact that back then he was helping to run a multiple-murder investigation. He also looks better physically, with more colour in his cheeks and, I think, carrying a little less weight around his middle. When I mention it he confirms he has been on, 'a bit of extended leave', which prompts me to ask, innocently, if it was in any way health-related. His quicker-than-expected reaction, 'What makes you ask that?' leaves me in no doubt that it was. When I try to dig however he passes it of as, 'nothing serious' and takes pains to point out that during the period he was absent, he was also spending time at the College of Policing - the police service's national centre for the development of excellence - working on something he calls the Pinnacle Inventory. He describes it as an analysis tool he is developing which he believes will aid Repeat Offences Investigation. (He is disparaging of the term 'serial' - as in /Killer/Rapist, etc., which he dismisses as a media invention.) But at least his explanation provides some insight into where he was during the time I was trying to track him down.

  I begin by asking if he thinks his investigatory experiences pre-Ford are the reason he was chosen for secondment to that enquiry. 'Not particularly,' he says. 'I was the first DI on the Joanna Linklater scene, so it was probably more to do with that.'

  It is the first of several responses in which, as our interview progresses, I begin to discern a pattern. Unlike many detectives I have met, he kicks back against any attempt to label him, or any other officer, as the sort of 'gifted detective' figure that lives so strongly in the public imagination. Time and again he goes out of his way to all-but denigrate his contribution to catching Edmund Hart, Desmond Wentworth, and their like.

  'As a major crime investigator, you're just part of a team,' he says. 'The system works when the team works together, each man and woman doing their bit.' This belief in the efficacy of, 'the system', comes across as key to understanding his personal approach to crime investigation. Later he makes the point again, this time when describing his theory that there are only two types of detectives, those who are thorough, methodical, and follow the system, and those who believe they are in some way different and have some special gift. Whereas the former achieve success by staying focused over time, the latter tend to believe that in every investigation there will come a, 'Eureka Moment' when, through some almost mystical process, usually involving the uncovering of some vital clue, the path through the for
est of gumph concealing the guilty-party's identify will suddenly become clear, allowing them to catch their man, or woman. In his view, the first reflects reality, whereas the second lives only in books and TV dramas.

  Given his stance on the matter, I cannot resist testing his theory by referring to some of the things I learned interviewing the likes of Alice and Jock. I float the idea that prior to his arrival, Operation Ford was a failing enquiry, and that things only began to happen after he got involved.

  'Not true,' he states, flatly. 'All large-scale enquiries go through rough patches where nothing seems to be working and the investigators get a bit low. Things pick up eventually, usually I'm afraid when the killer strikes again. I probably arrived when the enquiry was at a low ebb. If people perceived things improved afterwards, it's just coincidence.'

  I tell him about some of the comments I have heard referring to poor leadership and a lack of direction from the SIO Team, notably around the time of the Joanna Linklater murder and the general feeling that things began to change following his appointment as Assistant Senior Investigating Officer. Again, he bats them off, stating they were just the perceptions of investigators worn down by months and in some cases years of hard work. But when I point out that these are not comments made at the time, but reflections given long after the investigation had wound up and following Hart's conviction, he struggles to explain them. 'Like I said. Probably just coincidence, ' he repeats, not altogether convincingly.

  I try a different tack and ask him if it is true that the Operation Ford SIO and Deputy SIO were playing golf on the day Joanna Linklater's body was discovered?' He takes his time answering, reaching for his pint and regarding me, for the first time, with suspicion as he drains the glass. When he puts it down he turns to me, and I find myself staring into the eyes of a practised inquisitor as he demands I tell him, "What I'm really after?". He then all-but accuses me of looking for 'dirt' on the Operation Ford investigation, and it is only with great effort I manage to convince him my interest lies only in learning how individuals are affected by working, long term, on such an enquiry. But having done so, I return to my question, justifying doing so by pointing it that whatever the truth of the matter, it sheds light on individual's behaviour.

  He blanks me. 'I wasn't part of Operation Ford at the time Joanna Linklater was murdered. If you have any questions regarding the conduct of anyone connected with the enquiry before my involvement, you will have to ask someone who was there.'

  I tell him about the stonewall I have met trying to bottom the matter.

  'And sometimes, that's just the way it is,' he says, in a way that leaves me uncertain if there wasn't a hint of a twinkle in his eye. 'Sometimes there are no answers.'

  I drop the point and move on. Given my research, I believe I know the answer to my own question. But for me it is a revealing moment. One thing is clear. Jamie Carver is a man of principle. And one of those principles is not to talk out of school. Throughout the rest of the interview, Carver repeatedly shies away from saying anything that could be interpreted as in any way disparaging to any colleague, past or present.

  I turn to the matter of his own contribution to Operation Ford, which culminated in the capture of Edmund Hart. He becomes visibly less relaxed. I start by asking about his particular approach to major crime investigation.

  'The thing about repeat offenders,' he tells me, 'Is that you know they will strike again, and that in most cases the victims have a similar profile. If you target the profile and can reach potential victims, then you stand a good chance of being ahead of the killer when that happens.'

  I ask if that is what he did in the Hart case, bearing in mind that the victims were high-class escorts.

  He nods. 'More or less. We were lucky in that we managed to get some links into the escort community, which meant we were getting up-to-date information about what was happening there. Once that started, it was just a matter of time before we picked up on something. In this case it was mention of a man calling himself, 'Eddy' who some of the escorts had come across and who all happened to share the same reservations about his character, describing him as being, 'a bit weird'. And when sex-workers talk about someone being 'weird', you can bet they mean it.'

  As we speak, I am conscious that during Hart's trial, there was little mention of the police's involvement within the escort community he refers to. I ask him to expand. He becomes even more wary, to the point I wonder what nerve I may have struck.

  'We asked them directly for their help,' he says, simply.

  I point out that to my knowledge, (as a journalist, not a punter; I confess to having no personal experience in the matter), escorts are not noted for their willingness to engage with the 'establishment', especially the police.

  'I think that in this particular case, the fact they were in danger of being murdered probably helped focus their minds,' is his answer.

  At this point I take a gamble. I had heard from one of my sources that it was Carver himself who had unearthed the vital link that enabled the woman, Witness A, to arrange a meeting with the man, 'Eddy' - who of course turned out to be Edmund Hart. The source had told me that in his view, 'Carver had an instinct for operating in the world where the killer was operating, that up to that time had been missing from the enquiry.' I ask if this was the case.

  'I'm not sure you'd call it 'instinct,'' is his cryptic reply.

  'So what would you call it?' I ask. 'What did you do to get close to the escort community that your other SIOs hadn't done?'

  His response is to start talking about certain aspects of the investigation having to remain confidential, - "In order to protect people."

  I point out that I'm not asking for names, or specifics, just enough to get an impression of how things fell into place. It does me no good. He steadfastly continues to say nothing which may give away anything about how the contact with 'Eddy' was actually made. A thought occurs to me and I voice it. 'Might it have involved anything unethical, illegal even?'

  'Absolutely not,' he replies. As he speaks, his face is a mask.

  'What about Witness A? Presumably you must have had to work closely with her to be able to arrange a meeting with Hart?'

  This time his response is complete silence, accompanied by another of those looks. 'I'm not prepared to say anything about her. She was just a witness.'

  I press him to tell me something, anything, about her.

  'Only that she's a remarkable woman. And that we couldn't have caught Hart without her.'

  The way he says it, knowing I will quote him verbatim, I have the clear impression he is intending it as a message, though to whom and what that message is, I cannot say. And having reflected on it further, I still cannot. Maybe I should not.

  Finally I turn to the matter that initiated my quest to meet him in the first place - Edmund Hart's singling him out from the dock as his target for vengeance - and ask him to explain it. His initial answer is long-winded and reiterates much of what has gone before. 'I was just one of a team.' 'I was the nearest police officer to the dock.' 'You shouldn't read too much into it.'

  I point out that I was there that day, and witnessed not just Hart's outburst, but also his own remarkably sanguine acceptance of it. I remind him that I have covered murder trials for many years and point out that in the hundreds I have attended, I have never see anything pass between the accused and a police officer that was so clearly personal, rehearsed and heart-felt. 'So please don't tell me it was nothing of any note,' I tell him. 'Edmund Hart clearly sees you and you alone as responsible for his downfall. There has to be a reason for that.'

  Which is when he gives me the exact same look he gave Edmund Hart that day. In that moment I know I am right, but I also know he is not going to give me the answers I seek.

  Eventually he sighs and says, 'To some extent, all psychopaths live in a world of their own making. Edmund Hart created this persona of a brutal killer who will go down in the annals as one of the most prolific and vicious of his
kind. From what we discovered after his arrest, it is clear he believed he would never be caught, that he would continue to outwit the police for many years to come. It would be hard for a man like that to accept that he was brought to justice by something as mundane as 'the system'. Far easier to invent someone he can blame for his misfortune, someone on whom he can focus all his anger, frustration and feelings of humiliation. But he also need to believe that that person only succeeded because he was in some way, 'special'. I arrested him. I guess that makes me the easiest and most convenient target.'

  It is a good answer. One that sits well with our understanding of how psychopaths such as Hart do indeed see the world and how they rationalise their experiences and feelings. But I did not then and still do not believe it. I put it to him that there is more to it than that, that something must have happened to make Hart make the threats against him and Witness A that he did.

  He shrugs. "I'm sorry. I can't give you any more than I already have." And I confess to a feeling of failure as I realise that no matter how hard I may push, I am not going to get any more out of him. And that whatever lies between the two men who confronted each other in court that day, it is going to remain something between them and no one else.

  We talk a great deal more that night. Much of it is general conversation, about the state of policing - and journalism - in this country today. Away from the specifics of the Operation Ford enquiry and all things Edmund Hart-related, I find Carver to be an engaging and interesting subject. And though he clearly has a sense of humour - it reveals itself most often in moments of self-deprecation - there is an intensity and seriousness about him that speaks of someone who knows that their job is to operate in a world most of us never get to see, a world populated by murderers, rapists and psychopaths. Clearly he knows that world. Clearly he is good at operating within it. Equally clearly, he is never going to acknowledge the fact.