During a lighter but equally significant exchange Cooper was asked, “You have problems with arthritis, do you, in your left arm?” “Yes that’s correct,” came the reply.
“Is it correct?” he was asked again. “When you fixed curtain poles at your wife’s clients’ houses, you used both arms?” “I did,” said Cooper, “but I would use my good arm for the drill.” “So how would you hold the pole in place?” asked Mr Elias, “using the arm you can’t lift up supposedly?”After a long pause Cooper replied, “Well I would hold it in place with my good arm and then drill.” “So it was a one arm operation?” asked Mr Elias. This raised a titter in the courtroom as Cooper could clearly see he was on a slippery slope. He was then asked to account for how he would dig in the garden with one arm and how he buried the shotgun in the drainpipe with one arm. One of the significant moments for me during this cross-examination was when a piece of paper balancing on the edge of the witness box started to fall, only to be stopped in mid flight by the quick reflexes of Mr Cooper’s arthritic left arm shooting out to grab it. There were a few knowing looks from the jury.
Equally telling was his explanation for the scratches and marks on his face seen by a witness days after the Sardis robbery. He told the court that he had fallen over an old Christmas tree growing near the entrance to his caravan which was parked in his garden. Cooper insisted a blurred object seen on a photograph of the caravan was the tree. A video of the same caravan was then shown to the jury. On the video however it was clear that the blurred object was in fact a piece of wood leaning against the side of the caravan, not a Christmas tree as described by Mr Cooper. It was yet another lie.
Mr Elias spent all of that morning showing how Cooper was a compulsive liar, how his complex web of deceit had been exposed by the witnesses and forensic evidence provided to the court in the previous weeks. For the first time I could see that Cooper looked defeated. The man who thought he had all of the answers had been dismantled lie by lie. As Cooper returned to his glass cage, the courtroom was set for the closing statements of Mr Elias, followed by Mr Evans. This would be their last opportunity to make their prosecution and defence arguments respectively.
Gerard Elias was direct as he went through the forensics and the catalogue of other circumstantial and bad character evidence which was the Crown’s case. He was calm, measured and detailed. Piece by piece he unravelled the forensic evidence and then established its significance and connectivity to Cooper. At the end of his summing up, and having detailed the wealth of evidence, he asked the jury, “Is this just coincidence?” As he pieced the jigsaw together I could not help thinking that I would rather be in our camp than Cooper’s. As he concluded he was equally clear in his submission. “What you have heard is the most damming of evidence that John William Cooper is guilty.”
Mark Evans QC was brief but equally as clear in his closing speech. The Crown’s case, he said, was all based on the fact that John Cooper was guilty of the Sardis and Huntsman offences. If the jury were persuaded that they doubted that conviction then the rest would fall like a pack of cards. The defence also doubted the value of the forensic evidence and protested that all of this evidence could be explained by cross contamination and less than professional handling of the exhibits. I remember thinking how unfair this was when they had not established this during the trial or presented any credible evidence to undermine the forensic evidence. Our experts had been seen and heard in the court; in contrast the defence experts had been seen, but not heard.
The case was then summed up by Justice John Griffith Williams. He went through the almost ten weeks of evidence skillfully and in detail, maintaining a balanced and considered approach. He then concluded with the points of law he was required to deliver to the jury and agreed by counsel. As he sent the jury out he instructed them that it was the job of the Crown to prove the guilt of John William Cooper, not for the defence to prove his innocence. If we had failed to do so then they should acquit him.
As the jury filtered out from the packed courtroom I sat alone for a few minutes and pondered the last six years, and in particular the last ten weeks. Could my team and I have done any more to prove the case? As I did, a feeling of great satisfaction came over me: no, we could not have done any more! I had been supported by a fantastic team of officers and police staff. The Chief Officers and Police Authority had shown unwavering faith and support. Our partner agencies and the local community had been right behind us. All of the witnesses had attended and given their evidence in a clear and honest way and our experts had come up trumps. I looked across the courtroom and saw Lynne Harries, Glyn Johnson, Paul Jones and Gareth Rees and I could not have asked for more personal commitment from these four men, who had made many sacrifices over the years. It was over. Matters were now in the hands of twelve men and women, good and true, to consider the guilt or otherwise of another human being in a process that I had placed my faith in many times over the years.
Conclusion
ON 26 MAY 2011, John William Cooper was found guilty of all charges and told that he would spend the rest of his life in prison. On 31 October 2012, Cooper appealed his conviction at Cardiff Crown Court, an appeal that failed. His grounds for appeal were that the judge in his trial, Justice John Griffith Williams, had misdirected the jury in his summing up on the identification evidence. It related to the Sardis robbery case and the value of the Bullseye comparison with the artist’s impression. Like the vast majority of his defence case, he was hanging on to his insistence that he was not guilty of the Huntsman offences and conviction. The strange thing was, in his application to appeal he had accepted our forensic evidence, which had strengthened that very conviction.
What made John William Cooper commit the offences that he did? To me, the fact that he kept mementoes of his offending gives us an insight into this controlling, evil man. He thrived on control and the items he stole served a number of purposes. When he stole keys it made the victims feel that he could return in the future to terrorise them. Some of the items he stole were worthless, like the shorts he stole from Gwenda Dixon. Again every time he wore them he was reminded of the moment in time when he held their lives in his hands. The cash and jewellery he stole supported his gambling addiction, allowing him to continue and perhaps hide the full extent of his gambling from his family. Some of the property he took provided the perfect cover story. He would tell his family that he had bought it from car boot sales and the like, allowing him to use his cash for gambling. I have often been asked, why did Cooper do what he did? My response is simple. I believe some people are born evil and John William Cooper is one of them.
By the end of June 2011, the vast majority of the Ottawa team had returned to their normal duties. This proved to be a very testing time for them. My team had great difficulty in re-adjusting to normal policing duties following the intensity of the investigation, trial and the national recognition they received. During the case they had been carried on a runaway train that was heading down the tracks with nothing to stop it. Suddenly they were back to investigating house burglaries and attending to more mundane administrative duties that were a world away from Ottawa. The case had consumed so much of our lives; it was where we would go to practice our art, fully focused on achieving justice.
Unfortunately some of the team experienced a certain amount of jealousy from other police officers not involved in the case. The fact that these people had the capacity and mindset to display such feelings is probably the reason I did not choose them in the first place. Within a very short space of time two of my senior management team would seek help for post traumatic stress and their lives would change dramatically. Within a month of the end of the case my wife told me that our marriage was over; a conclusion she had come to many months before. I was so wrapped up in the case that I did not see it coming. Cooper was still wrecking lives from within his cell. Little did I know that months later I would fall in love with Diane, the most wonderful and courageous woman who is battling cancer for the s
econd time. Her beauty and bravery make everything else pale into insignificance.
The difference between success and failure is small and in Ottawa we embarked on a journey which had the potential for both outcomes. Success brought with it national recognition, rewards and accolades for a fantastic, successful investigation and yes, we accepted all of those rewards. The same people were also prepared to accept failure, the disappointment that would bring, and the inevitable post-mortems from wise observers. It was my job to ensure that the team never contemplated failure; it was an option that, as the detective leading the investigation, I could not allow to enter their thoughts. As a young officer I would never accept that I would fail; I always worked on the basis that I would get a breakthrough and detect the crime. In Operation Ottawa I had like-minded people supported by a fantastic Force in Dyfed Powys Police, who when times were difficult and with rising costs, held their nerve and supported the investigation. In the current financial climate I am not sure that I would receive the same support over such an extended period, and that I believe is a risk to justice.
I will take many memories from my thirty-three year career; my informative years in Cheshire Constabulary and the fantastic detectives I worked with as a DC in Winsford and on the Serious Crime Squad. Likewise, moving to Dyfed Powys presented me with fantastic opportunities whilst living in a safe and beautiful part of the world. My two wonderful children, Emily and George, have thrived and become two individuals who never let me down and of whom I am immensely proud. It is a privilege to be a police officer and to discharge that responsibility without fear or favour, with humility and humour. A smile and a joke in the right place can defuse many situations and humour has been a large part of my life. I’ve met some fantastic people like the victims and the families of the victims in this case. There are many difficult and emotional conversations I have had with them which no doubt would have made some interesting reading, but that would betray a trust. Those conversations will remain between us as a bond that will go beyond a job or a short-term association; we will always remember and understand what went on and why. It is these moments of contact with people who have suffered the most terrible loss that I will look back on to remind myself of how privileged I was to meet such exceptional people.
As a senior detective you always hope that you get a chance to lead a ‘big one’ and I was given that opportunity with Operation Ottawa. Furthermore you hope that you rise to the challenge. I was lucky on both counts. For me there were several critical elements. First and foremost the foresight of the Senior Investigating Officers in all three investigations to retain the exhibits and material as they did. Also crucial was the remarkable investigation carried out by the Operation Huntsman team and their foresight in keeping exhibits. The energy of the new CID team in 2005, who decided to grasp the nettle and conduct a thematic forensic review of undetected serious crime in Pembrokeshire was also a key element in the story. Bringing together a hand picked team who were not involved in the original investigations set us on the right course, as did the decision to locate all evidential material before any efforts were made to recover it. Our attention to detail when recovering the old exhibits negated any challenges in court. We only dealt in fact and were not swayed by the many myths and legends which had grown up around the case, and we were honest with ourselves, warts and all, even if this made our work more challenging. The relationship with the scientists enabled us to question their thinking without compromising their independence and my decision-making was always scrutinised by senior management. We had a first class media strategy and my team always displayed the utmost professionalism. Finally, Lynne Harries and Glyn Johnson, Gareth Rees, Paul Jones and myself were supported by an excellent police force.
At the end of the investigation I was asked whether Cooper might have committed further crimes. I fear we will never know. There was much speculation in the press regarding other murders and unexplained deaths. What we do know is that even faced with the most damming of forensic and circumstantial evidence, John Cooper admitted and accepted nothing. From work I have carried out there is very little in the way of material to be examined on which informed comment can be made. However, the death of Florence Evans in 1989 troubles me and I have spoken to her family, but again that is a conversation that will remain between us. As we now know, John Cooper made a big mistake in his interviews. He anticipated what we had and in doing so put forward defences and introduced vulnerabilities which he felt he needed to explain away. In fact he actually offered us direction. It was John Cooper who introduced Florence Evans into his interviews on more than one occasion and that worries me deeply.
As I now contemplate life after retirement I will look back on Operation Ottawa as a time when I could practice my skills as a detective and lead a fantastic team of officers and staff. The feeling when the word ‘Guilty’ rang out in Swansea Crown Court on 26 May 2011 will remain with me forever. Nothing will ever come close.
Postscript
I HAD TO THINK long and hard about writing this book before I eventually decided to do it. I have read books by retired police officers and I have questioned the appropriateness of such a venture. At the conclusion of this case I was quite clear in my own mind that I was not going to become an author. Soon after though, I was contacted by a number of journalists who were intending to write a book about the Pembrokeshire murders and asking me to take part. I started to question the value of someone else telling the story that others and I had lived and breathed over the previous six years. I mentioned it to my Chief Constable Ian Arundale, a very shrewd and forward thinking senior officer, whose response was simple, “Do it yourself Steve.” The more I thought about it the more his words made sense.
This was a story of how a police force with the fewest officers and the largest geographical area in England and Wales demonstrated why it has consistently been top of performance charts for crime investigation for many years. Now some cynics will say that’s all well and good, but nothing happens in Dyfed Powys. Frankly that is nonsense. Some six weeks after I retired my former colleagues were facing the critical and at times unforgiving eye of the world’s media as they investigated the sad circumstances surrounding the disappearance of five years old April Jones. Had I still been Head of CID I would probably have been the Senior Investigating Officer. I know only too well the kind of pressure they would have been under but I also know the calibre of excellent officers and support staff that would be totally committed to achieving justice for the family and local community. The public will have seen the total commitment and professionalism demonstrated by those tasked with leading and conducting such an investigation. Our communities are small and close-knit; everyone does know everyone else, and their fathers and their father’s father. Most of the officers are born and bred in the areas they police. I believe that is our strength.
Operation Ottawa is the story of those kinds of officers and their dedication to duty. It is a story of how a small force carried out an investigation into a serial killer and through their skill and attention to detail achieved justice. The feeling that justice had been done and the sense of relief was shared by many, from the victims and their families to the communities of North Pembrokeshire. In telling this story I wanted to take the reader on a journey which spans twenty-five years of detective work. Many processes and procedures have changed over the years in line with national best practice and advances in forensic science. Murder investigations are far more structured and scientific compared with years ago. I have been fortunate enough to have worked in both eras and what has not changed is the quality of detective work and that good old fashioned ‘gut feeling’, and in this story there is plenty of that. In leading Operation Ottawa the investigation captured the old and the new and in doing so developed its own best practice.
I have presented the story of the case to a wide range of audiences including senior detectives. A common observation from them is the attention to detail that characterised the case and th
e huge demands made on people to get things right. My response is simple, that is what we do. If we cannot get that right, then we have no right to represent the victims and their families. It was my motto right up until the day I walked out of my office for the last time. In this investigation I was blessed with a like-minded team who shared those values. This has been the true account based on my personal records, recollections and discussions with a handful of people. In light of the Leveson Enquiry I have not spoken to serving police officers, to avoid any possible conflict with their senior officers.
As an observation, professional relationships between senior police officers and members of the media should continue to flourish, as long as they are exactly that, professional. Leveson has triggered a certain amount of paranoia in the Chief Officer ranks which risks us going back to the bad old days when police and journalists treated each other with mistrust. Leveson was about members of an industry who were out of control and corrupt police officers who took money for information that put people and investigations at risk. There is no better example for me how this relationship should work than my relationship with Jonathan Hill. A chance conversation and a snap decision on trust started a professional relationship, which had clear boundaries, and I will be forever indebted to him for not breaking that trust. Our collaboration on this project has been a rewarding and enlightening experience.
I would like to thank my team, many of whom are mentioned in the pages of this record. They were truly magnificent. There are many who could be singled out for special mention but this would be unfair to others. Those who shared this investigation know who they are and will recognise their contribution, which is detailed in these pages. Having said that, Lynne Harries and Glyn Johnson were superb and the people of Wales owe them a great debt of gratitude for their unwavering commitment and devotion to duty. They made it happen. Tom Atherton, from the Crown Prosecution Service was also superb and his selection of Gerard Elias QC to prosecute on behalf of the Crown was inspired. The work of LGC Forensics under the watchful eye of Dr Angela Gallop was quite brilliant. I would also like to thank retired police officers, Aldwyn Jones, Don Evans, Derek Davies and Clive Jones, men who led those early investigations and whose foresight enabled me to finish the job. In particular I am so glad that I had the chance to meet and spend time with Retired Detective Chief Superintendent Dave Davies, or D.M. to his friends and colleagues. Sadly D.M. passed away shortly after the conviction of John William Cooper. I know that he told his close friends that he would go to his maker a happy man, knowing Scoveston Park was detected.
The Pembrokeshire Murders: Catching the Bullseye Killer Page 28