The Supernatural Murders

by Jonathan Goodman

  On the offside running board of the stolen car, adjacent to the driver’s seat, were a number of small red stains, which on analysis proved to be human blood. Under the front seats, an empty cartridge case was found. It was stamped ‘Mark IV’ and was of a kind that had been withdrawn from the army towards the end of 1914. Examination of the dead man had shown that one of the bullets causing the eye-wounds had been propelled by black powder, an explosive that had not been used for many years for army ammunition. Would the owner of the pistol from which that cartridge had been fired be found in possession of similar ammunition?

  Collecting Evidence

  Until the end of a case such as this, it cannot be known what facts will prove to be specially significant. Therefore, every one must be observed, noted, and considered. Information must be patiently collected, studied, recorded. There must be untiring patience in the pursuit.

  It need scarcely be said that much time and energy were spent and wasted by the police in examining every particle of information volunteered, only too often by well-meaning people. Several hundred persons were interviewed; their statements were recorded and checked. Every circumstance that might have a bearing on the case was carefully looked into, including recent purchases of arms and the comings and goings of suspicious persons. Of course, there were bogus confessions. Criminals whose records suggested that they could be guilty of such a crime were looked up, and inquiries made as to what they had been doing on the night of the murder. A house-to-house search in Brixton produced no result. Fingerprints on the steering-wheel of the stolen car were of no assistance; nor were those on the door of the garage at Billericay. But there were suspicions, which centred on a man who knew the highways and byways through which the car had been driven and whose reputation as a desperado was notorious.

  Towards the end of December, valuable information did come to hand, from Sheffield. A letter was received at Scotland Yard from an ex-convict who had known a man named Browne at Dartmoor, and who stated that Browne was the driver of a car which had been the cause of a serious accident in Sheffield on 14 November. Browne was wanted by the police there on a summons for reckless driving. The driver’s licence ran thus: ‘Sidney Rhodes, 27 York Terrace, Clapham Road, Stockwell, S.W.’, which proved to be false. Inquiries showed that the driver was Frederick Guy Browne, who had sold in Sheffield a car that he had stolen in Tooting and who was conducting an apparently legitimate business in a garage at Battersea. The informant described Browne as a most dangerous man – which was not news to Scotland Yard. He also said that, when visiting Browne in his garage in October, he had seen a big Webley revolver hanging in the office there and that he had jestingly said to Browne and his assistant, one Pat Kennedy: ‘I hope you didn’t shoot Gutteridge’ – to which Browne had airily replied: ‘We have been expecting them coming for us every day. But if they do come, we can prove we were letting cars out of the garage at 6am. We did go down there for a car the day before this chap was murdered, and it is a good job we were not there the same day.’ Later, in November, at the informant’s home in Sheffield, Browne ‘stood in the corner of my kitchen with a large Webley in each hand, which were loaded, and he held them up and said: “If they come to my garage I shall let them in even if there is half a dozen or a dozen, but there is not one that goes out alive. I shall get the first car afterwards, and clear”.’ During this visit he was alleged to have said: ‘The police are not so fond of pulling a car up at night after what we did to Gutteridge.’

  Benjamin Stow, a butcher at Sheffield, was acquainted with Browne and had bought a car from him in November, paying for it partly in cash and partly by exchanging an Angus-Sanderson car. The purchased car was the one that had been stolen from a garage at Tooting.

  On Wednesday morning, 18 January, Browne set out in the Angus-Sanderson to meet a friend who was being released from Dartmoor and to whom he intended to offer a job in his garage. That Browne was absent was discovered by the police, who lay in wait for his return in considerable numbers, expecting a desperate resistance unless they could catch the man unawares.

  It will be well now to explore the careers of these two men, Browne and Kennedy.

  Frederick Guy Browne, or Leo Browne, was born in 1881 of working-class parents. Nothing significant is known of his boyhood. In 1909 he was at Eynsham, in Oxfordshire, conducting a bicycle-repairing business and practising bicycle-stealing. During 1910–1913, he was convicted for carrying firearms, for larceny, and for burglary. Toward the close of 1916 he joined the army and was stationed with the Royal Engineers at Longmoor Camp, Hampshire, working in the railway-operating department. Early in 1918 he was sentenced at Petersfield to ten months’ imprisonment, and was discharged from the army in November with an ‘indifferent’ character. Late in 1921, he was living at Eastwood, near Southend, and during his residence there he became familiar with the countryside between Billericay and London. On Christmas Eve, 1923, he was arrested, charged with making fraudulent claims upon insurance companies, and in the following February was sentenced to four years’ penal servitude. At Parkhurst Prison his behaviour was so disorderly and violent that he was transferred to Dartmoor, where it is said that he first met Kennedy. He came out on 30 March 1927, having served the whole of his term, as he did not wish to have to report to the police after his release.

  He set up business in a garage in Battersea, doing lawful work in the letting of lock-up garages, car-repairing, and so forth. He was an excellent mechanic. He also did unlawful work. In 1927 he participated in a profitable burglary, the looting of the railway station, Tooting Junction; as we already know, he stole the car that he sold at Sheffield; also, he stole a Singer car at Tooting, and in December he and another broke into the railway station at Eynsham, coming away with considerable booty; he subsequently stole a Buick at Harringay and raided the railway station at Borden in Hampshire. He was a man of marked muscular power, which he sometimes boastingly displayed by raising a car without the aid of a jack. He was a teetotaller and a non-smoker.

  Patrick Michael William, or William Henry, Kennedy was born in 1891 or 1892 in Ayrshire, his parents being Irish. All his life he spoke with an Irish brogue. When a lad, he was taken to Liverpool, where he was apprenticed to a compositor. From 1903 to 1911 he served in the army with discredit, and in 1913 returned to Liverpool. His criminal career was not romantic; indecent exposure, petty thefts, ‘drunk and disorderly’, housebreaking, and larceny exhausted his abilities. Yet again he entered the army, from which he was eventually discharged with ignominy; he then returned to Liverpool and resumed his career of crimes. According to his own account, it was in June or July 1927 that he joined Browne, leaving him in December.

  Arrest of Browne

  Returning to town on 20 January, and after dropping his friend not far from Scotland Yard, where he had to report, Browne drove to his garage, which he reached at about 7.30pm. He was promptly arrested, no chance being given him for resistance. He was held on the charge of stealing a car; but it quickly became apparent that there was more than sufficient evidence to justify his being charged with the murder of Constable Gutteridge.

  It is not necessary to do more than indicate the general nature of the evidence which Browne had stored up. When searched, in his pocket was found a Spencer-Wells forceps, which he said he had possessed for a long time. In the office were more instruments, bandages, and so forth, exactly such things as had been in the two small attaché cases which Doctor Lovell had left in his car. The doctor had no doubt that they, and other things found at Browne’s lodgings, were his property. In Browne’s hip-pocket were found cartridges, of which one was a Mark IV. In a compartment beside the driver’s seat in the car was a Webley service revolver, fully loaded with six Mark IV cartridges. In the garage office were more of them, and still more were found at Browne’s home. Later, another Webley was discovered in the car.

  Kennedy and his Statement

  Hearing of Browne’s arrest, Kennedy thought it would be wise to retire to Liv
erpool, where on 25 January he was arrested. He was brought to London, to Scotland Yard, where he was seen by Chief Inspector Berrett, who said to him: ‘You are detained on a charge of being concerned with stealing a Vauxhall car. And I have been making inquiries for some time past respecting the murder of PC Gutteridge. Can you give me any information about that occurrence?’ To which Kennedy replied: ‘I may be able to tell you something, but let me consider,’ adding after a little while: ‘Can I see my wife?’ She came to him, and he said to her: ‘When I was arrested in Liverpool yesterday, I told you there was something more serious at the back of it. Well, there is. These officers are making inquiries about that policeman who was murdered in Essex.’

  ‘You didn’t murder him, did you?’ she asked him.

  ‘No, I didn’t; but I was there and know who did. If I’m charged with the murder and found guilty, I shall be hanged, and you will be a widow. On the other hand, if I’m charged and found guilty of being an accessory after the fact, I shall receive a severe sentence of penal servitude and be a long time from you. Will you wait for me?’

  ‘Yes, love, I’ll wait for you any time…. Tell these gentlemen the truth of what took place.’

  ‘All right, I will.’ Then to Inspector Berrett: ‘You can take down what I want to say and I’ll sign it.’

  He proceeded to make a statement which, though lengthy, must be quoted nearly in full:

  New Scotland Yard

  26 January 1928

  WILLIAM HENRY KENNEDY, no fixed abode, Compositor, age 37,

  WHO SAITH:

  … I have tonight, 26 January 1928, at 8pm, been interviewed by Chief Inspector Berrett, and told he is making inquiries respecting the murder of PC Gutteridge at Stapleford Abbotts, Essex, on the morning of 27 September 1927, and asked if I can give any information respecting it. I wish voluntarily to tell you what I know about the matter, having been cautioned that what I do say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.

  Signed W. KENNEDY

  At the end of either June or July, whilst I was at work on a farm at Cheshire, after my release from prison in November 1926, I received a letter from a man known as Fred Browne, which letter I have destroyed or handed to the representative of the Central Association1 in Liverpool.

  In the letter he told me he was just starting a garage in Battersea - 7a Northcote Road - and invited me to come down and act as manager…. He said he could not offer me much money at first, but it would cost me nothing for board and lodgings, as I could live at the garage…. I came to London and slept on the premises at 7a Northcote Road, at the back of the place used as an office. My duties consisted of attending to correspondence, keeping the books, making and dealing with accounts. The man Fred Browne was also sleeping on the premises at the time. After this had been going on, I think, till about the end of August, Browne went to live with his wife at 2 Huguenot Place.

  1. The Discharged Prisoners’ Association.

  I remained sleeping at the garage till December, and used to go out on occasions on motor-rides with Browne, on ordinary and various business journeys, and once or twice we called at his sister’s place at Buckhurst Hill.

  I well remember the day of 26 September. He suggested that I should accompany him to Billericay, to assist him in stealing a ‘Raleigh’ car at the end of the High Street, away from the station. We went to a place which faces a large, empty house standing in its own grounds. Browne entered the grounds of the house where the Raleigh car was supposed to be. We went to Billericay by rail from Liverpool Street, which I think was shortly after 7pm, because we left the garage [Browne’s] at 6.30pm.

  I accompanied Browne into the grounds. Browne opened the door of the garage, I think with a key, and examined the Raleigh car, and we then left the garage and grounds and hid in the grounds of the empty house and waited until the people owning the Raleigh car went to bed.

  Browne told me to wait in the grounds of the empty house, and Browne went to the garage where the car was stored. A dog came out and, starting to bark, it made Browne leave and join me, and he said: ‘It’s no good here. We can’t get back by train, so we’ll try somewhere else.’ The time was then, I should think, about 11pm. We walked through the village again and came to a spot, which I now know is the doctor’s house, on a sharp bend - at the opposite end to where the Raleigh car was, and on the main London Road.

  We saw the garage at the end of the doctor’s house, and we went into the field opposite, and sat on some old palings or gates, and waited till the lights went out in the doctor’s house. It was getting late, and must have been after midnight.

  After the lights went out, Browne and I went to the garage, which is a wood structure, and he forced the doors with, I think, a small tyre lever or tool of some kind, which he took with him. The door was opened easily. He first examined the petrol tank and make of car, and told me there was plenty of petrol in the tank. He told me it was a Morris-Cowley. It ran down on its own weight to the road, and we pushed it along about a hundred yards in the opposite direction, or at right angles to the main road. Browne said: ‘We will go by the byways and escape the main road.’ We then went for a long run round country lanes at great pace at different times. We got to several crossroads and corners, where it was necessary for us to examine the sign-posts, but eventually we got on to a kind of main road on the way to Ongar. When we got some distance up on this road we saw someone who stood on the bank and flashed his lamp as a signal to stop. We drove on, and I then heard a police-whistle, and told Browne to stop. He did so quite willingly, and when the person came up we saw it was a policeman. Browne was driving, and I was sitting on his left in the front. The policeman came up close to the car and stood near Browne and asked him where he was going and where he came from. Browne told him we came from Lea Bridge Road Garage, and had been out to do some repairs. The policeman then asked him if he had a card. Browne said, ‘No.’ He then asked Browne, ‘Have you a driver’s licence?’ Browne again said, ‘No.’ The policeman then again asked him where he came from, and Browne stammered in his answer, and the policeman then said, ‘Is the car yours?’ I then said, ‘No; the car is mine.’ The policeman flashed his light in both our faces, and was at this time standing close to the running board on the offside, and then asked me if I knew the number of the car, and Browne said, ‘You’ll see it on the front of the car.’ The policeman said, ‘I know the number, but do you?’ I said, ‘Yes, I can give you the number,’ and said ‘TW 6120.’ He said, ‘Very well, I’ll take particulars,’ put his torch back in his pocket, and pulled out his notebook, and was in the act of writing when I heard a report, quickly followed by another one. I saw the policeman stagger back and fall over by the bank at the hedge. I said to Browne, ‘What have you done?’ and then saw he had a large Webley revolver in his hand. He said, ‘Get out quick.’ I immediately got out and went round to the policeman, who was lying on his back, and Browne came over and said, ‘I’ll finish the – ,’ and I said, ‘For God’s sake don’t shoot any more, the man’s dying,’ as he was groaning.

  The policeman’s eyes were open, and Browne, addressing him, said, ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ and, stooping down, shot him at close range through both eyes. There were only four shots fired. Browne then said, ‘Let’s get back into the car.’ We had driven close into the bank, and backed out a little, and drove on in the direction of Ongar. He gave me the revolver and told me to load it while he drove on. I loaded it, and in my excitement I dropped an empty shell in the car. The other three I threw away into the roads. We drove at great pace through many villages, the names of which I do not know, but I know we went through Buckhurst Hill, and then Bow and the Elephant and Castle, and while on this journey Browne said, ‘Have you loaded that gun again? If you have, give it me back.’

  I gave it to him, and he kept it on the seat by his right-hand side. He wanted to take the car to the garage, but I persuaded him to have nothing to do with the garage. We drove to Brixton, and went
up a road I don’t know the name of, and drove into a cul-de-sac at about 5.30am. We left the car and came out into the main road, and came by tramcar back to the garage, bringing with us two cases out of the car containing doctor’s instruments. These, or the majority of them, were smashed up, and the cases were cut up into small pieces, which Browne later took out in his car and distributed about various roads in the country, so as to destroy all evidence, and I did not know that he retained any of the doctor’s property. I forgot to mention that on our journey, after shooting the policeman, Browne turned into a tree owing to fog at a gate. The fog was very dense at that time. I think he damaged the near-side front wing. I was very excited at the time. We returned to the garage about 6am, and commenced our work.

  Dyson1 arrived at his usual time, about 8am, and business carried on as usual. I suggested to Browne that we should go right away from London, as I knew inquiries were sure to be made. Browne said there was no danger, and induced me to stop, and said if I made up my mind to leave him he would blow my brains out. He had the Webley revolver in his hand when he said this, and, as I knew it was loaded, I thought he would. I then later went to a newspaper shop and purchased the various editions of the papers, and in one I found that Scotland Yard was supposed to have found fingerprints, and again wanted to leave, and he said, ‘No, you don’t; you’ll stop here and face it out with me. If anyone comes up here, there will be a shooting match.’…