Even a courtroom stops for bank holidays. The break meant that over the next four days everyone would get a rest, or at least that’s what we thought. Back in our little room, pondering over a nice cup of tea, we were asked by Mike Jones to see AJM/60, the gloves recovered from Cooper’s house in 1998. The gloves had been recovered from Cooper’s kitchen and linked by fibres to the murder weapon, placing the gun in his hands. “Yes not a problem, Mr Jones,” Nev confidently replied. We all sat around and watched the colour slowly disappear from Nev`s face as he frantically opened the bag but did not produce AJM/60. “Don’t worry,” Mike said, “I’ll come back in a minute.” Nev`s face went from a lighter shade of pale to a glowing red as he alerted us all in the office that he couldn’t find AJM/60. Just like Corporal Jones in Dad’s Army the instruction “Don’t panic!” was given as we all set about searching the room. After ten minutes and still no sign of the exhibit, panic did set in. I had total faith in Neville, but by this stage I was starting to feel very uncomfortable. Earlier that day the fire alarm had gone off in the building resulting in us all evacuating to a grassy verge opposite the court. As we did so we had to grab the exhibits from the courtroom and carry them with us. At this stage I chose not to alarm Mr Elias as I was confident the matter would be resolved. I was wrong. We searched high and low without any joy. The exhibits are all marked up and bagged but for ease of movement they were placed in larger carrier bags and black bin liners, very similar to the ones in which we placed our rubbish every night ready to go in the skip. As was his way Lynne Harries, suited and booted, volunteered to search the said skip on what was a very warm, late spring day. ‘Stig of the dump’, as we nicknamed him, could be seen, up to his knees in bin bags, opening them one by one. The sight of him rummaging through discarded food and nappies will remain with me forever, but the glove was nowhere to be seen.
What if someone had taken the exhibit and left the building with it? What if the cleaner had mistakenly taken it out of the room? What if we had dropped the exhibit on route to and from the court? What if we had dropped the exhibit outside the police station where it was stored at night? What if we had left it behind in the police station? At this stage I had to speak to Mr Elias, he raised his right eyebrow and fixed me with the stare he kept for the most difficult of clients. “I am sure Mr Wilkins that after a thorough search it will be found. If not I will have to have a very difficult conversation with the defence”.
To cut a long story short we spent the four days of the long weekend searching CCTV footage, bins, toilets, skips, police stations and kerb sides for the missing exhibit but to no avail. Mr Elias and his team had been pre-warned when they went home on the Thursday that the exhibit was missing and he left us with the reassurance that he was sure it would turn up. Neville was going away for the weekend, but telephoned every member of the team repeatedly in the hope of good news. He didn’t get it.
On our return on Tuesday, after a very stressful bank holiday break, the glove was still missing. I had made the Deputy Chief Constable aware, and I could just see the defence making hay about our meticulous handling of exhibits. I spoke to Mr Elias to inform him that we had lost the exhibit. He didn’t blink and made his way to speak to Mark Evans QC. “Mr Evans,” he said, “Would it be possible to have a moment of your time?” “Could you give me five minutes please Mr Elias? I will be with you then,” Mr Evans replied.
At that moment the gods were smiling on us. As we sat in the room feeling sorry for ourselves, distraught at the fact that we had lost a key exhibit and that all our professionalism had gone out of the window, DC Mark Roach had taken it upon himself to have another look in the room. Mark opened a box file used to store statements and suddenly let out a high pitched screech and fell on his backside. Mark is not one to get carried away and I thought he had been bitten by a rattlesnake. He then said in a very high-pitched voice, “It’s it. I’ve found it, the exhibit, AJM/60.” We all gasped with amazement as Mark was besieged with hugs from the team, and I have to admit to kissing a male detective in public. The outburst of elation was only interrupted by all of us simultaneously exclaiming “Mr Elias!!” who was waiting to speak to Mark Evans. Mike Jones was told, and like a flash he was gone out the door to tell Mr Elias, just as he was about to break the news to the defence. The day was saved. Only through the tenacity of Mark Roach had we avoided the embarrassment of losing an exhibit. Neville Evans was phoned with the news and replied, “Told you it would be there.” I could have strangled him!
Back on track our expert Roger Robson was sworn in and gave a comprehensive account of the fibre evidence. From the early days of the inquiry, when we had very little forensics, we now had a wealth of fibre evidence which corroborated a number of links to Cooper and 34 St Marys Park. Roger explained how the evidence had been recovered and its connection to key exhibits.
We had heard much about the defence’s fibre expert Mr Hodge. As is normal in Crown Court cases the defence always rely on their own experts to undermine the evidence of the prosecution’s expert. We eagerly awaited his presence in the witness box to be told that he could offer no expert opinion contrary to the one given by Roger Robson. Although we had one hundred per cent confidence in the fibre evidence, and its continuity and integrity, we were a little surprised to hear that Mr Hodge had left the building. The work carried out by Roger Robson had been extraordinary and his obvious expertise was impressive to say the least but I was concerned that the evidence was so complex that the jury might struggle to take it all in.
Our lock expert Mr John Crummack spent a whole afternoon describing how the ‘knib wards’ on the Norton Farm lock were extremely significant in comparison with the key AJM/445 discovered in Cooper’s shed. Richard Thomas had visited Norton Farm on the day he was murdered and his bunch of keys, described by his farm workers, were never recovered. John Crummack was adamant that the key AJM/445 had been used extensively in the lock from Norton Farm. By the end of the session and a contrary opinion from the defence expert, I think the courtroom had heard enough about the ‘knib wards’ and locks.
The next couple of weeks were spent by the defence exploring what’s known as the ‘box defence’. They were trying to introduce elements of the Huntsman trial which they believed assisted their case. This opportunity had been presented to them after Mr Evans had successfully appealed their defence position. In essence he had argued that Cooper was ‘dead in the water’ if he could not call witnesses from the Huntsman trial. The issue was one of case management and Justice John Griffith Williams had shown considerable skill in handling the arguments.
Elements of Cooper’s bad character were introduced by our counsel, including the interviews from 1998 which were diligently delivered by DS Rees in tandem with Mike Jones, who played the part of Cooper. The Sardis trail was then examined more closely, with an extraordinary claim from the defence. They said that at the end of the trail was impenetrable hedgerow and Cooper, frail at the time with his arthritis, would not have been able to negotiate it. This was the first time we had heard this new attempt to distance him from the Sardis trail. It sounded like pure desperation.
A trainer shoe found in this location was also scrutinised by the defence, as they intimated that it had been placed there days after the robbery. To assist them in this supposition they called a local man who lived near to the Sardis robbery trail. This local character, who was known to the police, entered the courtroom during the recess because he was on crutches. When the judge returned he was already sitting in the box waiting to give his evidence, in his best Sunday t-shirt. The witness wasn’t big on etiquette and it wasn’t long before the judge asked him to stand when he addressed the court. Unfortunately the judge was unaware that the witness was on crutches. After a little splutter he retracted his request, allowing the man to remain seated. After confirming his name he was left to answer the questions put to him by Mr Evans. Using a map on the electronic screens Mr Evans attempted to show the witness where he had discovered the trainer
following the robbery. Unfortunately for Mr Evans the witness didn’t agree with the account given and continued to take hold of the screen, next to him in the box, running his finger down it to show the exact spot where he walked. It resembled a sketch from a pantomime, as the conversation deteriorated into: “Oh yes you did. Oh no I didn’t.” There was no doubt that the defence was attempting to introduce this man as a possible suspect to deflect blame away from Cooper as they had done during the Huntsman trial.
Cooper had clearly told lies in the Huntsman trial. A hair had been found in the balaclava abandoned on the Sardis trail and it belonged to Cooper. He had tried to suggest that the local man had DNA which resembled his. It was clearly nonsense. The fibre evidence had forced Cooper into accepting that the balaclava had belonged to him, but he now insisted that it had been stolen from his boat. This local witness presented Cooper with a problem as he could not directly accuse him of the Sardis robbery because he had a very good alibi. CCTV at a local garage showed him filling his vehicle with petrol at the same time as Sheila Clark was being attacked. It was another diversion tactic.
One of the last civilian witnesses to give evidence was the very brave Sheila Clark, victim from the Sardis robbery. She was a lovely, gentle, kind person who, having had the trauma of giving evidence in 1998, found herself back in the witness box. The defence’s intention was to challenge the description she had given on the night she was confronted by a man wearing a balaclava brandishing a sawn off shotgun. Giving a description of an attacker in such circumstances is not an exact science and if you put ten people in a room and asked them to describe an incident, the differences would be alarming. This is the always problem with recall and eye witness evidence. It was a lame attempt to cast doubt on her recollection and unfortunately for Cooper it backfired. Mrs Clark had given a harrowing account of her ordeal and the unnecessary violence she was subjected to. During cross-examination by Mark Evans she was asked to describe the attack: “I was tied up and looking at this masked man pointing a gun at me, I thought, thank god my husband will be home any minute.” She then went on to say, “I looked at this man with the gun and thought, I really hope my husband doesn’t come home”.
I felt sure that in that short exchange the circumstances of the murders of Richard and Helen Thomas flashed into the minds of the jury. What Sheila Clark described had played itself out at Scoveston Park, only this time Richard did come home and a robbery turned into a double murder. In my mind, if the jury were still satisfied that Cooper had committed the Sardis robbery, he had just convicted himself of the Scoveston Park killings.
It was now time for the centrepiece of the defence. It is always a big question as to whether a defendant will go into the box. In Cooper’s case I had no doubt that he would. The controlling element of his character meant that he would believe that he was the only person on earth able to get himself acquitted. So it was no surprise when Mark Evans uttered the words, “Call John William Cooper!”
Throughout the trial the public gallery had been packed, but never more so than when the usher called Cooper. He stood in the box in his grey suit, white shirt, matching tie and handkerchief. The defence began their opening by portraying a man who had suffered most of his life. Cooper, they claimed, had been plagued by arthritis, wrongly accused of burglaries, wrongly convicted, had a run of bad luck, lost his fortune on bad businesses, lost his wife after being apart for so many years and was being wrongly accused again. Cooper came across as a helpful and respectful man. With his bucket of keys he would always help people in distress and he knew nothing about the crimes. Mark Evans QC skillfully led him through his evidence that no doubt Cooper had rehearsed many times in his cell. The evidence he gave was well structured and presented his life in a logical sequence.
Mr Evans had delivered his client to the jury, and had over the day teased out of him the points that he felt portrayed the real John Cooper. By now I had been allowed to sit in court and I too felt that Cooper had given a good account of himself. The court day normally finished at 4.30 p.m., and it was now four o’clock. Mr Evans concluded his evidence in chief and sat down, no doubt expecting the day to finish leaving Cooper to be cross-examined by the prosecution the next day. Having sat down the judge enquired with Mr Elias if he would like to start his cross-examination of Mr Cooper the following day. To my surprise Gerard Elias got to his feet, “No my lord I would like to have twenty minutes with him this evening.” I had spoken with Mr Elias regarding his strategy to cross-examine Cooper and he had given me an outline of his plan. This did not include a quick twenty minutes with him at the end of a long day. What the people who were privileged enough to be in court that afternoon, witnessed was pure genius that I will never forget for the rest of my life.
Cooper clearly thought he would be taken through his life just as Mr Evans had done. Mr Elias cut to the chase, “Mr Cooper, during the Huntsman trial in 1998 did you tell lies to that jury?” “No,” came the confident reply from Cooper. “Mr Cooper, I will ask you again, in 1998 before that jury, did you tell lies?” Again Cooper replied, “No, I did not.” Gerard Elias now turned to the jury and directed his question to them “Well let me help you out. In that trial you never accepted ownership of the balaclava abandoned on the Sardis trail did you?” Cooper tried to go off on a tangent, as was his way. “Answer the question Mr Cooper. Did you ever accept that that balaclava was yours? You said you had never seen it before.” Again Cooper tried to deflect the question away. The court was silent at this exchange. I thought to myself, you clever, clever man. It was off the cuff and he had his man under pressure straight away. “You have in this trial accepted the balaclava is yours and was stolen from your boat with other property, so you lied to that court, didn’t you? Yes or no?” said Gerard Elias in a raised, but controlled voice. Cooper again tried to avoid answering this simple and direct question, “Yes or no, Mr Cooper?” repeated Elias. “Yes or no?” Cooper was visibly squirming in the box and desperate to avoid the only answer he could give. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. Justice John Griffith Williams intervened, “Mr Cooper, the question is quite simple.” For a few moments there was silence only broken by Coopers’ response, “Yes.” I could see members of the jury looking at each other, recognising the significance of what they had just heard. “My Lord, I think that will be an opportune time to call it a day,” concluded Gerard Elias QC. As Cooper walked back to the dock I saw him glance at the prosecuting counsel with a look of despair because he knew he had been outflanked by a man at the top of his game. In those few minutes Mr Elias had established that during his previous trial Cooper had told lies. As the court cleared I spoke to Mr Elias and congratulated him on a brilliant opening to his cross-examination and a most unexpected one. It was clear he was looking forward to the following day. As I left the court I was approached by a member of the press who exclaimed, “Wow, that was fantastic. I didn’t jot down a single word, I couldn’t take my eyes off them.”
The next day Mr Cooper was back in the witness box at the mercy of Mr Elias. “Mr Cooper last evening we established that you told lies in your previous trial,” he announced as if to remind the jury, if they in fact needed reminding that this man was a stranger to the truth. In the following hour Gerard Elias established on a number of occasions that Cooper had told lies in his Huntsman trial. It was at that stage that Mr Elias moved on to the Ottawa offences. Cooper had changed tack during his evidence and cross-examination. He had maintained that he didn’t know Richard and Helen Thomas, when it had been established from a number of witnesses that he had in fact worked for them. It was also a fact that Cooper had once tried to buy land from Richard Thomas and had been refused. Gerard Elias referred Cooper to two specific documents: the first was a police ‘stop-check’ form completed shortly after the Scoveston Park murders. The local police had set up a roadblock to check vehicles near the entrance to Scoveston Park to see if they had passed the location on the relevant evening or had other information. When questi
oned at the ‘stop-check’ about his knowledge of the Thomas siblings, Cooper indicated that he only knew them to ‘say hello to’, and no more; this was another lie. The second document concerned the time when the police visited his home and he put forward a false alibi that the whole family was at home at the time of the murders; this statement was written down on a police house-to-house questionnaire. Why was he so reluctant to tell the police that he knew them well, or volunteer the fact that the blue Cortina so sought after by detectives belonged to the Cooper family?
Cooper was in trouble and you could sense it. The tension in the court was tangible and all present were transfixed by the confrontation. Gerard Elias moved on to the wedding ring and other rings sold by Cooper to the jeweller on Main Street in Pembroke. Cooper had already accepted that it wasn’t his wedding ring and in interview had suggested he handled stolen property. Two receipts were produced, one signed J.W. Cooper and one signed J. Cooper with a different address from his true home at 34 St Marys Park. Cooper could give little explanation and tried to cast some doubt by suggesting that he was not convinced that the signatures were his, though he accepted they could be. He went on to say that he had a number of different signatures which he used for different purposes. His responses were cannon fodder for Mr Elias and he made every exchange even more painful for Cooper. His explanation for burying a gun under the duck run was equally unbelievable, suggesting he was getting rid of it so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. The fact that he had preserved it in oilcloth to be used at a later date and modified it in an identical manner to the murder weapon was not lost on the jury.
The Pembrokeshire Murders: Catching the Bullseye Killer Page 27