by James Morton
‘If Mitchell had escaped at any time of the day, whether he was with me or away from me, there was nothing I could do to prevent him. My duty as an officer working alone would have been to collect the remaining members of the party and walk or run approximately three miles to the telephone kiosk at Peter Tavy… I know of no one who would argue with Mitchell on his own.’133
The plan to free Mitchell began as early as 10 March 1966, the day after the murder of Cornell, when Firm member Pat Connelly, mini-cab owner ‘Fat’ Wally Garelick (calling himself Jacob) and Connelly’s ‘wife’ (in reality Garelick’s girlfriend) visited Mitchell at Dartmoor. The visits by various members of the Firm continued sporadically throughout the summer and autumn, including Reggie in disguise accompanied by the boxer Ted ‘Kid’ Lewis, who was giving a talk to the prisoners.
Visiting arrangements inside this high-security prison were just as lax. Because of the distance visitors had to travel, they would often stay in the area for two or three days and make daily visits. If a prisoner had not used up his monthly visits and someone turned up without a visiting order, the prisoner would be asked if he wanted to see them. If he did, they would be allowed in. No checks were made on possible criminal records. Before and after a visit the prisoner was given a basic rubdown search. Visitors were not.
On 31 May Garelick was back, this time as Mr Connolly, along with his girlfriend whom he had met at the Regency. She was again Mrs Connolly and later gave evidence at the subsequent trial as Miss A.
From September onwards, Mitchell spoke to Ronnie Kray on the telephone and on 13 October Billy Exley and Charlie Kray, using the name Wylie, went to see him. There were two more visits by members of the Firm, on 4 and finally on 11 December, to tidy up the escape details. The next day Mitchell went with a working party to repair fencing on Bagga Tor. The weather closed in and the men stayed in a hut playing cards. At 11.30 a.m. Mitchell asked for permission to go and feed the ponies. He was not back by one o’clock, but no one reported his absence. Nor was he back at 3.45 p.m. when they realised he was missing.
By then Mitchell had made his way to Peter Tor, where he was collected in a black Humber hired by Billy Exley and driven by Teddy Smith along with Albert Donoghue. He was well on his way to London to a flat sourced by Charlie Kray in Ladysmith Avenue near the East London Cemetery.134 He had been given clothes belonging to Tommy Brown, the only member of the Firm who approximated his size.
The journey back to London was not without incident. First, Mitchell attacked Teddy Smith, who Mitchell believed was about to blow the whistle on him. When Donoghue pointed out Old Ford Road where Mitchell’s parents lived, he wanted to stop and see them, but he was denied permission.
It was suggested he could stay with the Krays’ parents but for once in his life Charlie Kray put his foot down. Another option was staying at Nobby Clarke’s parents’ but when they arrived, Clarke sensibly told them his father was ill. Now Mitchell would stay with the wannabee Lennie Dunn, who was to receive £500 for his troubles. Three quarters of an hour after Mitchell was reported missing, he was safely in Dunn’s flat at Ladysmith Avenue. The next day his prison clothes and possessions including the sheath knife were found near Widdon Down on the A30.
For the first few days all went well. Letters to The Times and Daily Mirror were written on Mitchell’s behalf by Smith, which he painstakingly copied. Each demanded a release date and had his signature and thumbprint for identification purposes. The letter to the Daily Mirror read:
‘19/12/66
To the Editor
The DAILY MIRROR
Sir,
The reason for my absence from Dartmoor was to bring to the notice of my unhappy plight. To be truthful I am asking for a possible Date of release. From the age of 9 I have not been completely free, always under some act or other.
Sir, I ask you where is the fairness of this, I am not a murderer or sex maniac nor do I think I am a danger to the Public. I think that I have been more than punished for the wrongs I have done. I am ready to give myself up if I can have something to look forward to. I do not intend to use any violence at any time should I be found, that is why I left a knife behind in my prison things.
Yours sincerely
Frank Mitchell’
The letter next day to The Times was in similar vein.
At first Roy Jenkins, the Home Secretary, said he would meet Mitchell but, after an outcry, insisted this would only happen after his surrender.
Within days Mitchell became bored. The Krays did not dare let him out of the flat in case he was recognised and so Mitchell found he had exchanged one prison cell for another. And, after all the years he had spent in jail, Mitchell wanted regular sex.
So a week later, Lisa, a 33-year-old nightclub hostess from Leeds and who worked as a hostess at Joe Wilkins’ Winston’s nightclub under a Swedish name, was forcibly recruited by the red-haired Tommy Cowley, whom she knew and with whom she had had a few one-night stands. With him were Albert Donoghue and Reggie Kray, who told her she would have the ‘respect of the East End’. Although she was paid £100, generously increased to £130, for just under a week she also effectively became a prisoner. When they met years later Nipper Read was impressed with her:
‘I liked that woman. She was very, very interesting. She could hold a conversation with anybody. She had a broader knowledge than anyone would give her credit for. She took an interest, as a good hostess should.’135
She had left the club wearing a black evening dress, and the next day Billy Exley drove her to her own flat to pick up some clothes. There she left a message for her flatmate, Valerie. ‘Half the rent is here, and I will be away for a few days. I’ll be back in time for the weekend.’
Lisa was watched the whole time; even when she was in the bathroom the door was left open. She attempted to escape twice. The first time, she told the jury at the Old Bailey in the trial for Mitchell’s murder, ‘…was the first night, the wire was over the door of the bedroom for the electric fire and I fell over it. I didn’t see it, and I made a noise.’ She received a spanking, hard but not too painful, from Mitchell. The second time when she tried to get out of the bedroom window he merely explained that he was only trying to protect her. She told the jury that Reggie Kray had spoken to her while visiting the flat. ‘He said that if I ever told anybody no matter how long or where, they would always find me… well, I would die. They would kill me.’136
And now, curiously enough, she began to feel sorry for Mitchell. Both were prisoners. For a while he calmed down, having sex with Lisa and giving demonstrations of his strength by lifting his minders on each arm.
This interlude did not last. The Twins stopped coming to see Mitchell and a proposed visit to his mother never materialised. In turn Mitchell began to issue threats that he would come to find them at Vallance Road or one of the clubs.
Meanwhile the Kray Twins had other troubles of their own making. Ronnie Kray was in hiding to avoid having to give evidence at the trial of police officer Leonard Townshend on a charge of bribery. John Rigbey recalled:
‘The Krays liked dreadful two-bar pubs where no one else went. They used The Horns and then they moved to the Baker’s Arms, a filthy little pub in Northiam Street off Mare Street. Len Townshend was not frightened of anybody – he’d steam right into them – and the allegation was he told Ronnie he could drink there without anyone troubling him but it was going to cost him 50 quid a week. And Ronnie, forgetting all the rules of the East End, went and had him nicked. I think that was when the East End started to wonder what the Twins were really all about. You didn’t do that even to a copper.’137
Much has been made of the Krays’ obeisance to the East End code of not even grassing up a police officer, but in this case Ronnie had swept that aside and made a complaint to Scotland Yard. This was an ill-considered, but not necessarily unconsidered, move. After the initial alleged approach by Townsend, Ron
nie had arranged for the private inquiry agent George Devlin to go to the pub with an assistant and make a tape of the conversation he was having with Townsend. The tapes were then delivered to Manny Fryde’s employer, the solicitor Jacob Sampson, who on 12 August made the formal complaint.
It was backed by statements from a collection of Kray acolytes including Teddy Smith and the publican Eric Marshall, who said Townshend told him the Krays could use the pub on his terms.
Scotland Yard believed that provided the voices on the tapes were those of Kray and Townshend, there was a strong case against him.
On 15 August 1966 the trap was sprung and Townshend took a sealed envelope with £50 in it from the licensee of the Baker’s Arms. When he was arrested he claimed he thought the envelope contained information and he was being set up. On the latter point he was certainly correct.
Ronnie however, began to have second thoughts, and in turn, his acolytes backed off. On 11 October 1966 Teddy Smith, John Barrie and, curiously, George Devlin all went to Manny Fryde’s office where they made statements that while their allegations over Townshend were true they did not wish to go to court to give evidence. Nevertheless the prosecution went ahead.
There were reported sightings of Ronnie Kray but nothing came of them and, with the first jury disagreeing, shortly before the second trial in the summer of 1967, he was said to be living in a caravan in Steeple Bay and waterskiing on the Blackwater River. This turned out to be his brother Charlie.
Despite Ronnie’s continuing absence, the case went ahead and after two juries had disagreed, on 18 July 1967 the prosecution offered no evidence on the third go round. Although Townshend admitted he had made false entries in the duty book, no disciplinary proceedings were taken against him. He was moved from G to J division at Leyton and given ‘friendly advice’.138 When he re-emerged, Ronnie justified his conduct, saying, ‘I did this because they are always verballing people and now it’s our turn.’139
As for Mitchell, the Krays quickly realised that they no longer had control of him. He had to go, and it was to Freddie Foreman, the formidable Alf Gerard and his running mate Jerry Callaghan that the Twins turned for help.
Foreman thought Ronnie’s request, coming at it did just before Christmas, was something of an imposition. He had plenty of things to do over the holiday without having to kill Mitchell and dispose of the body. Foreman thought of it as something of a mercy killing. Mitchell was never going to come out of prison and it was in effect a form of euthanasia. ‘It was the best, most merciful thing for Frank Mitchell.’140
Of Gerard, Albert Donoghue said, ‘We were none of us nice, but you wouldn’t turn your back on him.’141 ‘I thought of him as an original member of Murder Incorporated,’ said Mickey Bailey:
‘Alfie Gerard was all right. The likes of Gerard wouldn’t tolerate things as they do today. They wouldn’t tolerate a bully or a car thief. He wasn’t very tall but he was a very nasty man. Never pulled his punches. He probably killed dozens of people.’
Another London face thought:
‘You’ll hear so many versions. He was a man who I would class as a man’s man. He was a forthright man. If he had something to say he would say it. He was a very dangerous man. I wouldn’t hazard a guess at how many people he’d killed because he and his team had been killing people for years. Callaghan, Foreman and Gerard was Murder Incorporated and they didn’t advertise the fact either. They kept a very low profile. Out of villains in London this century he was probably amongst the most dangerous ten.’142
In contrast Callaghan was described as ‘very much liked, knew everybody, quite clever, never caught on a raid’. Gerry Parker, an old Spot man turned bookmaker, thought well of Callaghan and said in conversation with the author in January 2019, ‘You didn’t even need to write down his bet. If he lost, the money was there on the nail’.
Francis Wyndham of the Sunday Times recalled that when he went to see Ronnie Kray while he was still hiding in west London, Ronnie told him that Mitchell wished to give himself up to him, Wyndham, and the ubiquitous Father Hetherington. Wyndham reported back to the editor and was told to go along with the proposal provided he could have five minutes alone with Mitchell first. However, when he went back to Ronnie he was told Mitchell had changed his mind. Wyndham believed that meant he was now dead.
In fact Mitchell had been offered what was effectively one last chance. Just before Christmas, Scotch Jack Dickson asked Lisa to try to persuade him to give himself up. He would not agree and had to be calmed down. Next, he was told that in a day or so he and Lisa would be taken to France. Then Donoghue told him a new story that he would be moved and taken to Kent – the girl would follow – where he would spend Christmas with Ronnie, who was actually in hiding in Finchley over his botched attempt to bring Townshend down.
Mitchell was told to be ready to leave the flat on the evening of 23 December. He packed his new shirts, a black beret and what Lisa thought was a black mask. He gave Lisa what money he had and Donoghue brought him a large dark overcoat and trilby hat. He wrote down her address and telephone number and said that if he was stopped by the police he would get in touch with her. He was taken to a van waiting in Ladysmith Avenue with Foreman and Gerard sitting in the back. Donoghue later told the court that Ronnie Olliffe, a friend of Gerard, was driving, and he, Donoghue, was told to sit by him and give him directions to the Blackwall Tunnel. As the van pulled away Foreman and Gerard repeatedly shot Mitchell. Donoghue told the jury:
‘Gerard says, ‘The bastard’s still alive. Give him another one Fred, because I’m empty.’ So Foreman stood up and crouched over Mitchell and held the gun about an inch or two from his head and fired a shot into his head. That was the last shot fired. I would say it was about 12 shots in all.’143
Mitchell’s freedom had lasted rather less than a fortnight.
Back in the flat Lisa and the others had heard the shots. When Donoghue returned, Lisa screamed at him that he had killed Mitchell, which he denied. He then telephoned Reggie Kray to say, ‘The dog has won’, a code used when reporting a success, which Lisa misheard as ‘The dog is dead’. For all practical purposes it amounted to the same thing.
Kray told Donoghue to meet him later at a party at Winnie Harwood’s flat in Evering Road, and to bring Lisa with him. Meanwhile there were frantic efforts to clean the flat of any traces of Mitchell:
‘I [Donoghue] went back and got cleaned up. Then I divided them into teams and made one go over everything with a wet cloth and the second team to go after them with a dry one.’144
Magazines were burned and Lisa was told to hand over anything he might have given her but she crucially held back a comb in a grey case, a calendar and a Christmas card.
She was then driven by Donoghue and Connie Whitehead to the party in Evering Road where she was given around £100. On the way she said to Donoghue that when it was time for her to ‘go’ she wanted him, rather than Whitehead, who had been laughing and whom she regarded as sadistic, to kill her. At the party Donoghue told Reggie Kray of Mitchell’s death and Reggie began to cry, saying he had not wanted this to happen. Ronnie questioned her twice and ‘she sailed through’ although Reggie said Whitehead would ‘cut her throat if she spoke out’. When the party finished she spent the night with Donoghue. The next day Kray and Connie Whitehead came back and told her to say nothing. She went back to her flat but she remained in what might be called protective custody. She went to a New Year’s Eve party with Donoghue, and attended another in the New Year, when Reggie gave her the further £30. Donoghue was given £1,000 to pay Foreman, and the story was circulated that Mitchell had gone away to France.
In the new year Lisa was allowed to return to work. Later she would tell the jury she was very grateful to Donoghue. ‘For what?’ asked counsel for the prosecution in re-examination. Her reply was devastating:
‘Because he saved my life. Really there is no doubt about it. Because he co
nvinced Reginald Kray that it was quite safe for me to walk around.’145
Ironically, on the day Mitchell was killed, the Daily Mirror published an open letter to him suggesting he took ‘the man-to-man advice’ the editor was offering:
‘Keep your word and surrender at once. By doing so you will strengthen your claim that you are entitled to a fresh consideration of your case. We’ve given you a fair hearing, Frank Mitchell. Now give yourself up.’
Over the next nine months the police and politicians were sent a regular stream of sightings and suggestions about where Mitchell might be. Home Secretary Roy Jenkins received a Christmas card with a Caernarvon postmark which read ‘Happy Hunting, Frank Mitchell’. There were suggestions that he was living with the club owner Joe Wilkins in Coulsdon in Surrey and he was sighted at the Savoy Club off the Strand. Unsurprisingly, police surveillance of the club produced nothing. Another correspondent thought he was living with a man in the north with whom he had been in prison. Then again he had been seen in a pub in Park Side, Romford and in February there was advice that the police should check the London Hospital because he was bound to be suffering from strain. As if no one would have recognised him there!
Or maybe he was in Plymouth, where he visited the Tagada nightclub, or in a basement in Old Market Square, Exeter (4 March). Or maybe he was living with a West End Club owner in Dun Laoghaire. A memorandum from DCI E.G. Harris at East Ham dated 4 March 1967 showed the police still thought the information that Mitchell was in Ireland was accurate. A seeker of ‘Justice and Revenge’ thought he was in Southampton in April. That month a Hull prison officer overheard two ‘serious’ criminals say that the Krays had got him over to Ireland to a village he thought was Abbeyfeale. Or what about Tangier, where he was meant to be living with a girl?
Then a story by Norman Lucas in the Sunday Mirror of 29 October 1967 to the effect that Mitchell had been killed somewhere in Docklands and his body thrown in the sea near Shoreham, Sussex was deemed inaccurate, and had been put about on the instigation of the Krays by an East End publican.