The results of the NMR analysis of the shawl showed the composition of the dye used on it. The molecules were very complex and this suggested that it was a natural dye not a synthetic one (which would have a much simpler profile). Also, as the dye was soluble in water, it again suggested natural pigment. Natural dyes are the oldest types in use and were invariably derived from sources such as roots, berries, plants and fungi. The blue dye samples taken from the shawl had similar properties to woad, a very common blue dye derived from the plant Isatis tinctoria which has been used for thousands of years. This was a massive boost, another huge step along the road, and I was beginning to feel that luck was definitely on my side.
While Jari was working in his lab I went on to one of his computers to research the origins of synthetic dye. It was first created, by accident, by William Perkin in 1856 and caught on swiftly, replacing natural dyes by the 1870s: synthetic colourants cost less, offered a huge range of new colours and they gave better visual qualities to the materials they were used on (I discovered that William Perkin actually lived in the East End, in Cable Street, and I have since been to look at the blue plaque on his house, grateful that his discovery helped us determine the age of the shawl).
Natural dyes also required a mordant which would fix the colour and a variety of natural substances were used to do this. The most common were alum, tin, chrome and iron, but sometimes human urine was used. The mordant improves the fastness of the dyes; however, they were not as water-resistant as synthetic dyes. Because of this, items like shawls were not necessarily washed, and often just given a good airing or an application of some fragrant plant such as lavender. As Jari told me, if my shawl had ever been put into a modern washing machine the entire blue section would have dissipated, and even gentle hand washing would have seen most of it leak out. The fact that it was a natural pigment, not synthetic, also explained why the small stains which were believed to have been made by semen affected the dye in the way they did, effectively giving the spots a ‘bleached’ look where the semen had made the natural pigment deteriorate. Natural dyes absorb more: a synthetic dye would have repelled the stains, and they would probably not have survived.
So the natural dye used on the shawl strongly suggested a date in keeping with the probability that it existed before 1870, which tied in with what the experts at Christie’s and Sotheby’s had told me when I asked for their advice. But now we had more than expert opinion, we had proof. Even more excitingly, Fyaz Ismail felt that the dye also had characteristics similar to those he had seen before which came from Russia, notably the St Petersburg area.
Dyes apparently have different properties owing to the different ingredients available for their synthesis in any given locale. Also, silk dyeing was a competitive and secretive business, and very little was written down – the recipes were handed down from generation to generation. Consequently they all differed, and it was possible to pinpoint a specific area. This was another significant and exciting discovery which made me feel that fate was on my side, and that my gut feelings were being transformed into real evidence. I remember thinking: I keep unpeeling this onion, and as every layer comes off it’s a massive, breathtaking moment. Is this all too good to be true?
We were now ready for what was going to be the most important test so far – the comparison of the DNA extracted from the bloodstains on the shawl with that of Karen Miller.
To do this it was vital that we had what are called ‘control samples’ from various individuals who had handled the shawl over the previous twelve months, in order to eradicate any potential recent traces of anybody else’s DNA. These samples were taken from myself and all the members of the team who had worked on the shawl, including Jari. Along with the sample from Karen Miller, all were purified, meaning that the DNA itself from each sample was isolated using a combination of physical and chemical methods. Since the shawl was over a hundred years old, unsurprisingly, the genomic DNA from it was found to be fragmented and not appropriate for use. Fortunately, we also had samples of the mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA), which is of course passed down intact over many generations via the female line. We therefore had a direct, uninterrupted genetic link along the female line between Karen Miller and Catherine Eddowes and thus Karen’s mtDNA should, we hoped, be identical to that of Catherine.
Due to the age of the material on the shawl, the human mtDNA was amplified in seven small segments to facilitate the analysis. If Jari had tried to amplify a larger DNA fragment in one go, there was a high chance of a double strand break (i.e. the DNA is cut into two pieces) somewhere in the segment and the polymerase chain reaction (PCR) would fail. By doing smaller segments, there was a higher chance of finding an intact fragment. This approach is normally required with ancient or damaged DNA samples, because of the risk of fragmentation with age, even when properly stored. PCR is currently the standard method used in DNA base forensics and also medical diagnosis. It basically replicates a single section of DNA strand millions of times, thus giving a sound base to work from. The amplification process was performed with a method which responded specifically to human DNA samples, so that any stains consisting of animal blood would not produce a result.
To find out the possible matches and mismatches, DNA needs to be sequenced. The DNA is made of four components called nucleotides which are adenine (A), guanidine (G), cytosine (C) and thymine (T). In DNA these are arranged in a chain which can have any of these in any order (or there can be a stretch of nucleotides which are the same, for example like AAAA or GGGGGG). Between two individuals the DNA sequence is identical for a vast majority of the sequence which is why it is necessary to select an area which is known to have some variation between individuals of the same species. In mtDNA there are two areas called hypervariable region I and hypervariable region II, which are known to contain variations in a normal population, so when two normal individuals are compared there are likely to be differences. The mtDNA segments which were amplified were all in these two regions. When this was performed on our control samples and to the samples extracted from the shawl, we could then compare them by looking at the order of those nucleotides.
Six out of seven of the mtDNA segments subjected to DNA sequencing analysis were successful, in other words, we had six complete DNA profiles that could be used for profiling. Only results fulfilling the highest quality control were accepted and this was done using the Phred quality score, a widely used method of measuring the quality of a DNA sequence. The most commonly used method is to work with a Phred score of 20 or above, which dictates that the level of accuracy will be 99 per cent or higher.
The result of the first complete DNA profile was an incredible ‘Eureka!’ moment, and confirmed that the shawl contains human mtDNA identical to Karen Miller’s, based on that particular mtDNA segment.
Jari was still being a scientist, and stressing caution. He had to stay neutral, but even he was admitting it was a very good match. For me, it was cause for a celebration and I must admit to visiting the pub and sinking a few pints. Just occasionally, I had to let my hair down and revel in how far we had got.
When work started analysing the other mtDNA sections, it was found that two others showed contamination from fresh DNA (matching with one of the reference samples). However, this is a well-known and well-documented problem with ancient DNA samples as fresh, non-fragmented DNA amplifies much more readily than older DNA and so contamination like this is known to occasionally take place. However, such contamination could not be responsible for the match between the mtDNA sequences from the shawl and that of Karen Miller.
One of the amplified mtDNA segments from the blood found on the shawl matched Karen’s, and had a sequence variation which gave a match with the mtDNA of Karen Miller only and did not match any of the other control samples. The variation is known as a Global Private Mutation, a rare gene variation that is usually found only in a single family or a small population. According to the database of the Institute of Legal Medicine and based on the latest
information available, the variation that both Karen’s DNA and the DNA from the bloodstains on the shawl shared has a frequency estimate of only 0.000003506, in other words, it is present in only 1 in 290,000 of the world’s population.
To put the genetic variation discovery into context, it means that as the United Kingdom currently has a population of around 63,750,000, Karen Miller is one of only around 223 people in the country who possesses this genetic variation. If that ratio was the same back in 1888, when the UK population would have stood at about 36,000,000, Catherine Eddowes, whose blood (also containing that variation) appears to be on the shawl, would have been only one of about 136 people in the country with that variation. To work proportionally with that statistic, Catherine would have been one of only about a dozen people with that variation in London in 1888 when the population stood at about 4,000,000. Karen Miller is one of about twenty-five people in London with the variation today. Considering that Catherine Eddowes’ daughter Annie’s descendants stayed in the same area of London (Bermondsey and Southwark) for generations, and Karen herself was born in South London too, this really does narrow down the field.
Jari sent me a summary of his findings, which more or less repeats what I have explained, but may be of more interest to any scientists reading this:
The shawl was first visually inspected, both in visible light and also using special forensic light sources, i.e. different wavelengths of ultraviolet and infrared using a customised forensic camera with specific band pass filters. Using these methods several differentially fluorescing stains were identified, suggesting presence of various biological sources (for example, blood/saliva/semen). A total of six of these stains were sampled for DNA using a novel in-house method developed for this purpose. The DNA from these samples were purified, as well as control reference samples from Karen Miller (descendant of Catherine Eddowes), Russell Edwards (the owner of the shawl) and the laboratory personnel who have been known to handle the shawl. Due to the age of the shawl, the human mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) was amplified in seven small segments to facilitate the analysis. This approach is normally required with ancient or damaged DNA samples, since the DNA is known to fragment with age, even when properly stored. The amplification was performed with a system, which is specific to human DNA, so stains created with animal blood etc. would not produce a result.
Six out of seven mtDNA segments subjected to DNA sequencing analysis were successful. Only results fulfilling the highest quality control (so called Phred20 score) were accepted. One of these amplified mtDNA segments had a sequence variation which gave a match between one of the shawl samples and Karen Miller’s DNA only; i.e. the DNA sequence retrieved from the shawl did not match with control reference sequences. This DNA alteration is known as global private mutation (314.1C) and it is not very common in worldwide population, as it has frequency estimate of 0.000003506, i.e. approximately 1/290,000. This figure has been calculated using the database at Institute of Legal Medicine, GMI, based on the latest available information. Thus, this result indicates that the shawl contains human DNA identical to Karen Miller’s for this mitochondrial DNA segment. According to the history of this shawl, a maximum of six persons have handled it in the past twelve months. Because the garment is made of silk, skin cells from those handling it prior to the last twelve months will no longer be there (in the case of wool, the cells would remain for far longer). Based on the DNA work above, we know that at least two of these persons do not have this specific mutation (314.1C). Hence the analysis above strongly suggests that the shawl could contain the DNA of the Jack the Ripper victim Catherine Eddowes. When analysing the other mtDNA sections, we found two other mtDNA segments to have apparent contamination from fresh DNA (matching with one of the reference samples). However, this is a well-known and documented problem with ancient DNA samples as fresh, non-fragmented DNA amplifies much more readily than old DNA. So contamination like this is known to take place occasionally. However, contamination cannot explain the match described above.
So there it is, in Jari’s dispassionate prose: ‘Hence the analysis strongly suggests that the shawl could contain the DNA of the Jack the Ripper victim Catherine Eddowes.’
Science appears to have proven that the shawl was what it was said to be. It must have been at the scene of the crime back on 30 September 1888 and shows traces of Catherine Eddowes’ blood, proven to match that of her direct female descendant. On its own, this makes the shawl probably the single most important find in Ripper history; no knife, diary or letter has ever been linked with these murders so conclusively. For me this was an incredible ‘wow’ moment. Despite all the peaks and troughs of this journey, things were suddenly going in a way that vindicated the shawl and my reasons for buying it.
But there was still a long way to go. Research had shown that the shawl was the right age, was most likely eastern European in origin and was present at the Eddowes murder. My feeling that it had come from the killer himself was growing stronger by the day and the figure of Aaron Kosminski was looming larger in my thoughts. We knew the shawl also contained other human material, and this time we would be using this evidence not to prove simply that the shawl was genuine and had been at the scene of the crime, but to solve the greatest murder mystery of all time: the true identity of Jack the Ripper.
CHAPTER TEN
NARROWING DOWN THE SUSPECTS
It was in 2007, soon after Alan McCormack gave me the name, that I started my research into Aaron Kosminski. But then the other aspects of the investigation took centre stage, and it wasn’t until many years later that I started looking at him in earnest again. There was still a niggling doubt in my mind: yes, we had almost certainly got the Ripper’s DNA. But what if the Ripper was not Kosminski? I was going on what Alan had told me, but there were other plausible cases made for suspects who seemed, at first sight, to be just as possible as him.
So before I go into the story of Kosminski, let’s look at the other possible Rippers.
The official files were not released to the public until the 1970s, and the detectives and senior policemen who were on the case in 1888 left nothing more than oblique references in their memoirs, so the case was wide open to all sorts of mad theories being put forward. With so little actual evidence, it was possible to make a case for almost anyone, many suggestions bizarre and almost laughable.
In the years since the last victim’s death, the Whitechapel murderer has been a Jewish slaughterman, an escaped lunatic, a mad medical student, an avenging doctor, a homicidal midwife and even a member of the royal family. One early theory was that the killer was several men who came from Portugal on the cattle boats. It wasn’t ruled out by the police, and it joined a slew of other tip-offs about foreign sailors who worked on ships that were berthed on the Thames. Extensive searches of the docks and the ships that were moored there on the nights of the murders were made and every man was expected to account for himself.
A popular belief was that the Ripper was an escaped lunatic, and this story was even more sensational if the lunatic also happened to be foreign. In the official files now held at the National Archives, there are numerous reports of suspects in this category. Jacob Isenschmid, known as the ‘mad butcher’ and who had spent some time in an asylum, became a suspect after the murder of Annie Chapman when the police were tipped off about his unusual and often aggressive behaviour. Inspector Abberline heard about Isenschmid, and he was promptly found and incarcerated while the police made their enquiries. In fact Abberline went so far as to believe that he sounded just like the man that Mrs Fiddymont and friend had seen in the Prince Albert pub on the morning of the Chapman murder. From what we can see from the reports, Isenschmid was an individual of great interest to the police, but he was believed to be so insane that the doctors would not allow him to be used in an identity parade. Eventually the fact that he was safely out of circulation in custody when the later murders occurred proved his innocence, if not his sanity.
Charles Ludwig was anothe
r strange character mentioned in the files. A highly volatile and violent German hairdresser, he had pulled a knife on a woman in a dark alley in the Minories, just south of Aldgate, on 18 September 1888. Avoiding arrest, he then went to a coffee stall and promptly threatened an innocent bystander with the knife, and this time was caught and held. He was still in custody on the night of the double murder, which ruled him out as a suspect. His landlord told the newspapers that he was:
A most extraordinary man, is always in a bad temper, and grinds his teeth in rage at any little thing which puts him out. I believe he has some knowledge of anatomy, as he was for some time an assistant to some doctors in the German army, and helped to dissect bodies. He always carries some razors and a pair of scissors with him . . .
The man was obviously mentally ill. The same could be said about Oswald Puckeridge who, apart from having a history of mental illness which saw him put away in asylums many times, was declared as being ‘a danger to others’. He was described in the official files as ‘educated as a surgeon’ and at one point had threatened to ‘rip people up with a long knife’.
There were loads of other suspects. Nikaner Benelius was a Swedish-born traveller who had recently come to England from America and who, despite having very little in the way of similarities to the descriptions of men wanted for questioning, was nonetheless interrogated after the death of Elizabeth Stride. He was arrested again after behaving suspiciously in Buxton Street, Mile End, but again was exonerated of all suspicion that he was Jack the Ripper.
Police time was wasted on a large manhunt following a suggestion that three medical students from the London Hospital, all believed to be mentally unwell, had gone missing. Two were soon accounted for, but much time and legwork was taken up tracing the final missing student whose mother claimed that he had gone abroad.
Naming Jack the Ripper: The Biggest Forensic Breakthrough Since 1888 Page 18