Whitechapel

by Bryan Lightbody

  “Yes,” he passed it to him. “Here it is. I have no doubt having seen those pictures that I need not warn you it does not make pleasant reading.”

  “I accept that, Guv. Before I start there is little for me to live for beyond work. I appreciate that I may be subject to a discipline inquiry still but I’d like to get back to work as soon as I can.”

  “Good, I’m sorry to learn of your motivation for returning but I am glad you wish to. I’ll discuss the matter with Mr Arnold and see what he says.”

  “I appreciate that, Mr Abberline,” said Robert nodding his head and straightening his lips briefly in appreciative acknowledgment. He then settled down to read the report on Mary’s injuries made by Dr Thomas Bond; he would find it quite comprehensive.

  The position of the body

  The body was lying naked in the middle of the bed, the shoulders, but the axis of the body inclined to the left side of the bed. The head was turned on the left cheek. The left arm was close to the body with the forearm flexed at a right angle and lying across the abdomen. The right arm was slightly adducted from the body and rested on the mattress, the elbow bent and the forearm supine with the fingers clenched. The legs were wide apart, the left thigh at right angles to the trunk and the right forming an obtuse angle with the pubes.

  The whole of the surface of the abdomen and thighs was removed and the abdominal cavity emptied of the viscera. The breasts were cut off, the arms mutilated by several jagged wounds and the face hacked beyond recognition of the features. The tissues of the neck were severed all round down to the bone.

  The viscera were found in various parts viz: the uterus and the kidneys with one breast under the head, the other breast by the right foot, the liver between the feet, the intestines by the right side and the spleen by the left side of the body. The flaps removed from the abdomen and the thighs were on the table.

  The bed clothing at the right corner was saturated with blood, and on the floor beneath was a pool of blood covering about two feet square. The wall by the right side of the bed and in line with the neck was marked by blood which had struck it in a number of separate slashes.

  Post-mortem examination

  The face was gashed in all directions the nose, the cheeks, eyebrows and ears being partly removed. The lips were blanched and cut by several incisions running obliquely down to the chin. There were also numerous cuts extending irregularly across all the features.

  The neck was cut through the skin and other tissues right down to the vertebrae the 4th and 5th being deeply notched. The skin cuts in the front of the neck showed distinct ecchymosis.

  The air passage was cut at the lower part of the larynx through the cricoid cartilage.

  Both breasts were removed by more or less circular incisions, the muscles down to the ribs being attached to the breasts. The intercostals between the 4th and 5th and 6th ribs were cut through and the contents of the thorax visible through the openings.

  The skin and tissues of the abdomen from the costal arch to the pubes were removed in three large flaps. The right thigh was denuded in front to the bone, the flap of skin, including the external organs of generation and part of the right buttock. The left thigh was stripped of skin, fascia and muscles as far as the knee.

  The left calf showed along gash through skin and tissues to the deep muscles and reaching from the knee to five inches above the ankle.

  Both arms and forearms had extensive and jagged wounds.

  The right thumb showed a small superficial incision about one inch long, with extravasations of blood in the skin and there were several abrasions on the back of the hand moreover showing the same condition.

  On opening the thorax it was found that the right lung was minimally adherent by old firm adhesions. The lower part of the lung was broken and torn away.

  The left lung was intact: it was adherent at the apex and there were a few adhesions over the side. In the substances of the lung were several nodules of consolidation.

  A closing paragraph covered the remains of food in Mary’s stomach and intestines. Robert already horrified inwardly by the pictures on the wall could not believe from this report the savagery with which she had been attacked, and just hoped that she had died quickly before the killer began his mutilations. Re-instated to the police or not he would find the man responsible for these crimes and kill him. He remained silent with Abberline noting that he had finished reading.

  “You all right, son?” he asked with fatherly concern.

  “No. Not really. I don’t believe I ever will be. I’d like to ask that if I am re-instated I’d like to join your team, sir.”

  “Yes. A bloke that has shown the resilience you have deserves to be on board.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be off home now gentlemen.” Robert got up from the desk and left the office to make his way back to his lodgings in Bakers Row.

  He arrived home within around half an hour to find the landlady had kindly looked after Bruiser. He took the dog upstairs with him and sat down on his bed. His world was still in turmoil and his plans no longer of any relevance. He decided as best he could one handed to tidy up his room beginning with the mess of clothes that were strewn around the room on top of the table, chair and littering the bed. He pulled at a jacket hanging over the back of the chair which began to pull the chair backwards. He attempted to stop it falling but with only one hand just dropped everything. He walked frustrated backwards to the bed and dropped himself back onto it. He began to sob with frustration and heartbreak; Bruiser jumped onto the bed and cuddled up next to him with his head resting on his paws all too aware of the emotions in the room.

  ***

  That evening Sean Miller was walking along Sidney Street towards Commercial Road on his own with thoughts in mind of how he could persuade members of the Vigilance Committee to turn against the authorities following this most recent atrocity. So deep in thought was he that he was unaware of the carriage pulling up alongside and keeping pace with him. After a few seconds he looked across at it aware of it only when the door opened towards him. As he looked inside he was grabbed by his lapels and dragged into the interior by a huge portly suited man sporting a large beard that sat him down and slapped some manacles onto his wrists. He had tried to struggle but somewhat pointlessly against his colossal strength. He then became aware of a smart older suited man sat in front of him in the darkness of the interior. He lent forward allowing the street lighting to highlight his features and spoke menacingly.

  “So, Mr Miller. I think you maybe responsible for hurting a good friend of mine. What gives you the right to do that eh?”

  “He was a fucking pig spying on an innocent man and other working men,” Miller replied aggressively.

  “Really? Well, well, we fucking pigs have to stick together, you Fenian bastard. You are plotting seditious activities. For that we must ensure you leave the country,” said the man sitting back into the dark.

  “Oh, yeah? And how are you going to do that then, pig?”

  “Quite simply. We can help you on you’re way.” The bearded man held tightly onto Miller and gagged him as the well dressed man tied some large lead weights to Millers legs that were sitting on the floor of the carriage. Miller looked out of the window to see that they were alongside the Regents Canal Dock, now known as the Limehouse Basin, a large expanse of inland water linking to the Thames. Miller began struggling and making muffled sounds of protest that then broke into pleading as the carriage stopped along side of the water.

  “Like we said, Mr Miller we’ll help you leave the country.” The driver got down from his perch and with the large bearded man they pulled the bucking and screaming Miller from the carriage with his weights and carried him to the edge of the dockside. The smartly dressed man joined them and looked into the black water lapping against the harbour side.

  “Hopefully your countrymen will get the message when they forever wonder what happened to poor old Sean Miller. Way you go chaps.”

  The two men swun
g him sideways a couple of times to gain some momentum before letting go and tossing Miller into the dock and watched him instantly sink, leaving only a trail of bubbles.

  “Well done, chaps, a job well done,” replied the smartly dressed John Littlechild as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hands that had been soiled by the tying of the weights. They all got back onto or into the carriage and rode off.

  ***

  Friday 16th November; Tumblety returned to Commercial Street Police Station to be charged with all four counts of indecent assaults investigated by Detective Sergeant Thick. Abberline and Godley knew he was there but had still not had a result on the handwriting analysis. It was a great personal frustration and setback to them to watch impassively as he came and went from the police station over the other matters. Tumblety’s bail date to appear at the Central Criminal Court or ‘Old Bailey’ was set to be the following Tuesday, the 20th. The Ripper investigation team could only hope to have a result by then. He strolled out from the front entrance of The Street with an air of unconcern as he knew he would challenge these allegations at court and his social standing against, it would seem a callow youth making the claims, would win him the day.

  Four days later at the court the case was being heard with Tumblety and the youth, Fred Churchyard, finally coming face to face. The lad looked terrified appearing in a public forum and seeing the man he was so superficially lying about. Druitt sat in the back of the court out of sight in the public gallery from either party. Unbeknown to him within the crowd were Abberline and Godley. Tumblety was representing himself and sat quietly as the prosecuting council made their case and then called Churchyard to come to the witness box and give his evidence.

  Unsteadily he was led through his account of what had happened with an obvious air of nervousness in what he said and the questions he answered when put by the prosecuting counsel. Tumblety had sat impassively through this waiting for his chance to destroy and discredit this obviously false witness. Judge Joseph Reed spoke to him; his chance had come.

  “Dr Tumblety, do wish to cross examine the witness?” Tumblety stood.

  “Yes, your Honour, I do.” He turned away from the judge to the slightly shaking Churchyard and smiled gently at him and began to speak.

  “Young man, have you really seen me before?”

  “Yes, of course I have. You’re the one what buggered me.”

  ”Really? All right. I put it to you, you are lying.”

  “Nah, I’m not. You assaulted me and my mate.”

  “I don’t think so. I put it to you; you are lying for some personal or financial gain. I also put it to you that we have never met before and you were never assaulted.” The boy paused and swallowed before answering.

  “That’s not true. You assaulted me and that’s it.”

  “No. You are lying and stand to perjure yourself. You were not assaulted and certainly at least not by me. You are a false witness.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are, young man.”

  “I’m fucking not!” The judge interjected.

  “No swearing in the court or you’ll be in contempt.”

  “You are an inveterate liar who for money would try to slur anyone’s good character.” The boy was sweating and shaking and now looked at his feet before speaking, his voice breaking a little. He had finally been intimidated to tell the truth; his resolve was simply not strong enough to take anymore cross examination from the American whose steely glare seemed to intrude into his very soul.

  “All right!” He shouted emotionally, “I was never assaulted. My mate don’t exist. He’s right I was put up to it by some posh bloke from South London.” The court suddenly went into a constant hum as everyone turned to each to speak with the shock of this announcement. Churchyard carried on shakily telling the truth.

  “Some posh bloke who looks like the queen’s grandson, works in a school or something by all accounts, told me to do this to get back at this fellow.”

  “And why was that then?” asked Tumblety.

  “Don’t know, he just wanted to get back at you it seemed.”

  “Was his name Druitt, a South London school master?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I only did it for twenty quid.” The court went into uproar as the judge began to speak.

  “Order, order! I hereby dismiss this case as a false and malicious allegation. The complainant is sentenced to thirty days in Newgate, I also issue a warrant for this man Druitt for conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. Dr Tumblety is herby acquitted, with twenty pounds costs awarded from the prosecution.”

  Thick was furious that he had been taken for a ride by this young liar as the prosecuting counsel packed up his brief. In the public gallery Druitt made a swift exit as Abberline stood and spoke to address the judge.

  “Your Honour, I am Inspector Abberline. I must request you keep this man subject to court or police bail as he is a suspect in the Ripper case and I am still waiting for the results of a handwriting analysis. The result of this test could mean that this man is charged with the crimes. There is currently a surety in force for his bail, and I ask you set a date to return to court as he can, if necessary, be charged in your presence or released.” The judge considered this application as Tumblety looked around in horror at Abberline’s presence and his request. He felt the net closing in and he must now be prepared to sacrifice the surety money. The judge spoke.

  “I grant your application, Inspector, the Doctor must return here on the 10th of December for the hearing you have requested and the bail with surety remains in force to that date and to here.”

  “Thank you, your Honour,” said Abberline making eye contact with a hateful Tumblety as he sat back down.

  “Do you understand, Dr Tumblety?” asked the judge.

  “Yes, sir, I do,” replied Tumblety, standing to do so. He approached the bench and extended his hand to Judge Reed. He spoke catching the Judge off guard who autonomously offered his own hand in a handshake in response, never to realise Tumblety’s dishonest intentions.

  “Your Honour, I must thank you for this great service you have done, I will not let you down, sir,” said a very sincere Tumblety. Calculating as ever in his actions he clasped Reed’s hand in a Masonic grip; having spent much time since making his fortune mixing with the wealthier echelons of American society the Doctor had become well versed in Masonic customs and traditions from his brief membership of the Brotherhood. He knew that by making this implication, if he was right about the judge being a mason himself, he would set the wheels in motion for the ‘Brotherhood’ to protect ‘one of their own’. It would be Reed’s duty to ensure that Tumblety not be convicted or fall into harm’s way as he was a brother mason. He clasped the judge’s hand in a kind of half grip against that of a conventional handshake and then ensured that he applied pressure with his thumb to the knuckle of the middle finger to convey membership of an organisation who declared ‘they were not a secret society, but a society with secrets’. The identity of the true perpetrator of the majority of the Ripper crimes would become one of their greatest secrets, and falsely too. This was just another example of the charlatan Tumblety duping those around him to his own ends to ensure he could make good his escape. No one knew the irony in the actions that Judge Reed would take in immediately contacting Sir Henry Matthews, the Home Secretary, when he left the court. Tumblety disguising himself in the eyes of the brotherhood as a member of such an upright social order knew the deception would be a way for him to seek immunity. They would never betray their own. It was a gamble that would pay dividends to Tumblety but would deliver one of the greatest injustices in the British legal system.

  The court emptied, Churchyard was taken down to the court’s cells to be transferred to the next door Newgate prison. Tumblety left knowing he now had to prepare to leave in the next few days. He knew that Abberline would come looking for him before the 10th with his address having now been made public in open court. On the steps of
the court he was unfortunate enough to come face to face with Abberline, the man that had now become his own nemesis.

  “Well, doctor. Don’t go too far. You know we haven’t eliminated you from our enquiries.” He spoke looking the American doctor in the eye. Tumblety saw an opportunity to buy himself some time and incriminate the man he had failed to stop, having set him on a destructive trail.

  “Abberline, I have one thing for you to consider, I have heard the name Chapman connected with this matter, perhaps this is someone who you should be looking for,” replied Tumblety walking away bumping shoulder to shoulder with Abberline as he did so. Abberline turned to Godley having watched Tumblety walk away and spoke.

  “Well, we know he didn’t do the last one, but he’s no way in the clear. We need to look up that name though, can’t afford to assume it’s a red herring after six murders.”

  “I’ll get on it Fred when we get back to The Street.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Monday 19th November; John Netley was waiting outside Tumblety’s Graham Road lodgings to take his American client off to one of the Central London stations. He had already brought one trunk out that Netley had loaded onto the rear of the carriage and Tumblety now came out for one last time carrying a medium size suitcase, his cane and a gladstone bag. He was smartly dressed as previously but looked unusually flustered. This sense of panic to flee the country had caused Tumblety to bolt without making the clearest of preparations, a massively unusual circumstance for him to find himself in. His sense of thoroughness which had always helped his sense of self preservation would not return until he found himself on route for America, and the port of New York. Tumblety had quite deliberately left his arts bag with its gruesome contents out of sight in the coal bunker at the lodgings in case he had received a visit from the police. In his flight from London he had forgotten about it.

  He clambered aboard the carriage and told Netley to set off for Waterloo Station, the terminus well known for travel to France. He was making for Le Havre where he was to board a French steamer bound for his homeland. His familiar cab driver tried to initiate conversation.