by James Morton
In a murder trial there is always a medical report as to whether the defendant is fit to stand trial. In the Kray trial both Twins were seen in a series of five hour-long interviews in December 1968 for pre-trial reports. On remand both had been making cuddly toys. Reggie was good at bears and the doctor noted his ‘extremely good workmanship’. ‘Mentally he was alert, friendly, and pleasant and indeed one might say charming.’ Ronnie’s speciality was rabbits. They presented themselves as being ‘highbrow cultured men’. Reggie admitted to being a heavy drinker – up to a bottle of gin a day.
Reggie told the doctor that he liked reading, particularly books on sayings and proverbs. Ronnie had battled against schizophrenia for some 16 years. It had been under control for the last ten years and he was taking 25 mg of Stemetil three times daily. He had told the doctor he was fond of listening to the opera singers Maria Callas and Gigli and reading biographies, including those of Gordon of Khartoum, Genghis Khan and Lawrence of Arabia. ‘He says he is a friendly man, not bad-tempered normally, a believer in God but not a churchgoer’.17 They were naturally both deemed fit to plead.
The press and others began applying for tickets for the trial in December. Each defendant was allowed two tickets which were sent to their solicitors. Reg’s were forwarded to Uncle Alf and Carole Thompson. Ronald’s went to Violet and Charlie Snr. Lissack returned the tickets sent to him as Mrs Donoghue was under police protection and no one else wanted them.18
But when the trial began on 8 January, black market tickets for the public gallery were on sale at £5 each per day. As a result all tickets to relatives were temporarily withdrawn.
Arguments that the Cornell and McVitie murders should be dealt with separately were rejected by Stevenson; the first trial would be in relation to those murders. The charges relating to Frank Mitchell would be heard later. The fraud and lesser charges would be heard after the murder trials were finished.
And if the Krays did not know before the trial what a hard time they would have with Melford Stevenson then they found out very quickly. On 9 January he decided they should wear placards around their necks with numbers so that witnesses could identify them better in the dock. It was not something which appealed to Ronnie in particular. The best thing for a defendant in a criminal trial is to try to get along with the judge, but Ronnie made no effort to do so. He was not going to wear a placard around his neck. For the moment there was anarchy in the dock. ‘I have known of many a factory on strike for far less than that,’ commented Platts-Mills. Stevenson was implacable. If they did not wish to wear placards, then they could go down to the cells until they co-operated. And down to the cells they duly went.
But already there was a split in the ranks. Barry Hudson for Anthony Barry, who had brought the gun to the party at which McVitie was killed, said that his client would be quite happy to wear a placard. Could he remain in the dock? ‘Certainly,’ said Stevenson. This was a shrewd move by Hudson. His client was going to run a defence of duress and here he was in front of the jury – a man who would do what the court asked – as opposed to the rebellious and dangerous rabble. At the time of his arrest Barry had made a statement to the police:
‘Whatever I did that night, I did because it was beyond my power to refuse to do what I was asked to do in the circumstances. It was more than my life was worth to refuse.’19
There is little a prosecutor likes more than when defendants start squabbling among themselves in what is known as a ‘cut-throat’ defence, and here things were working out nicely. If a grown man such as Barry was going to tell the court how much in fear he was of the Krays and the rest of the Firm, it would be easy to see just how terrified the barmaid, the hostess Lisa and Carol Skinner would have been. There had been talk before the trial of offering no evidence against Barry but Read wanted him in the dock and, as harsh a decision as it might seem, he prevailed.
During the day a compromise was worked out. The defendants would not have to wear placards but there would be numbers placed in front of them on the dock and a plan drawn up showing who was where. Peace was temporarily restored.
All the defendants pleaded not guilty except Donoghue and Dickson, who pleaded guilty to harbouring Frank Mitchell. Dickson was sentenced to nine months imprisonment which, since he had been in custody for over four months, meant his almost immediate release. He was to be called as a prosecution witness in the Cornell case.
What the defence also feared was that the Cornell and McVitie counts on the indictment would be tried together. If they were, there would undoubtedly be considerable prejudice for some of the defendants, such as Charlie Kray and Freddie Foreman, who were not concerned in any way with the Cornell murder. Applications to divide the indictment were made repeatedly throughout the trial but Stevenson was adamant in refusing them.
In a way the 36-day trial ended on day one when the first of the key witnesses in the Cornell murder was the barmaid Mrs X, who had seen Ronnie Kray shoot Cornell at point-blank range. She stepped into the witness box wearing a camel-coloured suit over a green jumper. What she needed was firm handling from the defence counsel to exploit any inconsistencies in her story and particularly why, after so many years, she had changed her evidence and could now identify Ron and Ian Barrie. And firm handling from Platts-Mills was exactly what she did not get. His first 18 questions were about her taking off her hat and coat when she arrived at the Beggars and talking to the publican’s wife. By the time he came to cross-examine her over her lies and evasions, she was settled in. The best Platts-Mills could suggest was that she had been bribed by the police with the promise of a new council house if she provided false evidence. ‘You should have my nightmares, then you would know whether I was inventing it or not,’ she replied, explaining she was terrified of the Twins and particularly of Ron. Identification evidence of strangers is always dangerous, but so far as Kray was concerned she was identifying a person she knew. A woman of completely good character, all Platts-Mills and William Howard for Barrie could do was to try and discredit her, and they failed lamentably. Why, asked Howard, was she now giving evidence and had lied at the inquest? ‘Ronnie was about outside then. He was not inside then.’ Once she had completed her evidence, the Krays’ case was lost and everyone knew it.
As Chris Lambrianou later wrote, ‘That softly spoken barmaid was genuine. She was word perfect. And she was credible’. And a few paragraphs later:
‘It was credible, damning stuff. And we all knew it. I glanced at the others in the dock. They were all visibly shaken. You did not have to be a fortune-teller to know that our futures, like Ronnie’s, were being destroyed in front of our eyes.’20
The Twins certainly knew the gig was up. Ron wrote:
‘The moment the blonde barmaid began to give evidence against us a smile appeared on Nipper Read’s face, a gleam of triumph. He knew he’d got us bang to rights.’21
To Stevenson’s annoyance, Platts-Mills recalled the barmaid two days later. Earlier she had said she had been ill and now Platts-Mills saw a ray of light if he could show she had been suffering from mental illness. In fact, it turned out she had been ill with fibroids.
Although Stevenson later told the jury to disregard his evidence, backing her up was John Dickson. During his evidence Reg called out, ‘If the story is true why isn’t he on a murder charge?’ To which Dickson replied, ‘It’s because of them that I’m doing nine months.’
And if there was any lingering doubt about the barmaid’s apparent failure to pick out Barrie at the identification parade, Stevenson settled that. Why had Haeems not been called to give evidence about it?
‘Do you not think if there was anything really to be raised as to the validity or the apparent irregularity of Mrs X’s identification that man would have been put into the witness box. You were told, if you remember, that he was only an articled clerk who had not passed his examination. Gentlemen, you don’t have to pass any examination as solicitors to qua
lify yourself for telling the truth if there is something useful he can say and he has not been called. That is a matter which you may think it is worth giving some attention when you are generally assessing the weight of the barmaid’s evidence.’22
The evidence of the Twins’ cousin Ronnie Hart was crucial to the McVitie case. Even though it was backed up by others such as Harry Hopwood, they could all be accused of being co-conspirators motivated only by self-preservation. Indeed, the prosecution was forced to admit that Hart was as much a murderer as Ronnie Bender and the Lambrianou brothers. If he could be roughed up sufficiently in cross-examination there might be some hope. Reg did his bit to help by calling out, ‘If there was any stabbing it must have been done by you.’ But although there were inconsistencies, which in time Melford Stevenson glossed over, Hart and the other co-conspirators stood up well. However, Billy Exley was forced to admit he was serving two years for attempting to kill a Greek Cypriot.
Carol Skinner provided some support for Hart’s story, saying how she had returned to her flat in the early hours, to find Whitehead there along with Bender with her son’s socks over his hands cleaning up, as well as seeing Chris Lambrianou pour a bowl of blood down her lavatory pan. Cross-examined, she denied she was lying because she disliked Tony Lambrianou, who had rowed in prison with her husband. Harry Hopwood told the jury of the arrival of the brothers and the summoning of the unfortunate Charlie Kray in the middle of the night. Donoghue was there to tell of the re-papering of Carol Skinner’s flat and a visit to Freddie Foreman to get him to dispose of McVitie’s body.
Before that, Stevenson had again rebuked Platts-Mills, who was trying to show that Cornell had a number of enemies and so any of them, not just the Krays, could have killed him.
Stevenson: ‘That had been established about four witnesses ago, wasn’t it?’
PM: ‘I didn’t realise it was so sustained and so well charted.’
S: ‘The last few minutes were a complete waste of time.’
And again:
P-M to witness: ‘You were suggesting to this jury that you never went back there [to his flat] for some such reason as the ghastly experience you had with the Krays or something of that sort.’
Jones: (for the prosecution) ‘With respect, witnesses don’t suggest things. They answer questions put to them.’
S: ‘It is one of the examples of putting words into the witnesses’ mouth which he has not used. I hope it won’t happen again.’
P-M: ‘My Lord, I am responsible for it. I am sorry.’
S: ‘You were. I hope you will stop it.’
P-M: ‘I venture to justify my question on this basis…’
S: ‘You cannot justify putting words into a witness’s mouth that he has not used.’
P-M: ‘Your Lordship will not permit me to explain. I am always in the wrong in the eyes of your Lordship.’
And he was right in that observation at least.
Overall Hart and the other witnesses stood up well to their cross-examinations. Their line was that they were terrified of the Krays and wanted to protect their families. Unfortunately for Whitehead and others, Read told the court about the partial admissions that Firm members had made when he visited them in prison. Whitehead had told Read about the time Ronnie had threatened him with a flick knife and went on to say ‘he tried to make us look silly. He was getting too flash anyway.’ Technically this was inadmissible evidence against Ronnie, but may well have influenced the way the jurors were thinking.
There were, however, some hiccups for the prosecution along the way. When Bobby Teale was giving evidence about the Cornell murder, his approach to the detective Tommy Butler and a meeting with him and DS Joe Pogue at the Hackney greyhound track, Platts-Mills put it to him that he was lying. Later Read admitted there were no notes of any such meeting in the files, and as a result Pogue had to be called to confirm Teale’s story. It was correct, he said – he and Butler had indeed had the meeting. Almost unbelievably, he had made no notes suggesting Teale was prepared to give evidence against the Krays. This was often the case with potential informers, said Pogue. There was, he said, a note in his diary that there had been a meeting, but it was not produced. Butler was not called.
By the end of the prosecution case Melford Stevenson was clearly getting irritable, but not only with Platts-Mills. When Paul Wrightson for Reggie Kray asked whether the jury should be present during a submission he was about to make, the judge replied, ‘I don’t see any reason why the jury shouldn’t be here, but mercifully they haven’t got to be.’ All submissions that there was no case for the defendants to answer were firmly rejected.23
There is a maxim in a criminal trial that the high watermark for the defence is the close of the prosecution’s case. And it would prove to be so in this trial. Immediately there were more troubles for Platts-Mills, who in his opening address could not resist giving the jury a synopsis of Henry IV Part 2, Scene 4. Much worse was to come. Ronnie was now proving almost impossible to handle. At that time he could either give evidence, make a statement from the dock which meant he could not be cross-examined, or remain silent. Although the second option, which is no longer available, in theory did not carry as much weight as giving evidence, in practice juries did tend to listen to these speeches. Well before the end of the prosecution case a decision should have been taken as to which course Ronnie would adopt, but this had not happened. Now Platts-Mills tried to hide his intentions and to bat until the close of play for the day when a long conference could be held with Ronnie:
‘What I say is this – that we treat the giving of evidence on oath in this court as a precious coin, and these witnesses have debased that coin and dishonoured it so that Ronnie Kray will say, ‘I am not going in that box where they stood.’ He might well say his words spoken from the dock here unsworn were just as good as the coin that they have so gravely tarnished with their stories. So you may well hear Ronnie Kray give his evidence from the dock where he sits.’
But Melford Stevenson was well up to this. Was Ronnie Kray going to give evidence or simply make a statement? Well, he might not give evidence, he might just make a statement. In that case Platts-Mills should not have used the words ‘he will tell the jury’. But this time Platts-Mills was able to counter that he could ‘tell the jury’ from the dock. Which was it to be? asked Stevenson, and Platts-Mills was about to obtain a ten-minute adjournment to take further instructions when Ronnie stood up and announced he would give evidence.
It was not a good decision, although he managed his examination by Platts-Mills reasonably well. Ronnie claimed Cornell had been a friend. Indeed, the week before his death he had sent a basket of fruit to his young son who was in hospital. There had never been any trouble with the Richardsons. He hadn’t been in the Beggars that night. They’d all been in The Lion until they’d heard of a shooting and then they’d gone to Walthamstow.
He first started showing signs of wear when Barry Hudson began cross-examining him on behalf of Anthony Barry, denying that after the McVitie murder he had agreed the Regency should pay a reduced sum of protection money each week.
And then things went rapidly downhill. Very soon he was engaged in a slanging match with Kenneth Jones for the prosecution, who wanted to know why since the age of 17 he had been called The Colonel:
Ron Kray: ‘You are known as Taffy Jones by all the prison officers; that ought to make us both equal, don’t it? Taffy Jones, they said you ought to have been a miner instead of a prosecutor, you might have done more good. Taffy Jones – we have both got nicknames. Taffy Jones and The Colonel. Mine sounds better than yours.’
Stevenson: ‘Kray, listen. You won’t do yourself any good with anybody by being impertinent.’
As for the McVitie murder, he had not been at Evering Road that night. Indeed, there had not been a party at all.
One of the more extraordinary decisions of the defence was to call the old
Kray enemy Frank Fraser to give evidence on Ronnie’s behalf. If a defendant wishes to do something, there is not a lot his advisers can do about it. They can tell him firmly that something is not advisable but if he insists, all they can do is have him sign papers to say that the pros and cons have been explained to him and that he has chosen such and such a course. It really was a last throw of the dice. Fraser had by now been convicted in the Richardson Torture Trial and was serving sentences totalling 15 years. Platts-Mills had tried to dissuade Ronnie, but in the end had little option. ‘I was persuaded… it would not make the slightest difference to the outcome of the trial’, he justified in his memoirs. Which meant he had already effectively thrown in the towel.24
Fraser was able to tell the court that any suggestion of a disagreement between Ronnie and Cornell was so much rubbish. Indeed shortly before Cornell’s untimely death Ronnie and he had met to discuss the man’s drink problem. Ronnie had asked him to have a word with Cornell and to get him a job, possibly in Billingsgate. His other contribution was to say that apart from Ronnie being a fine fellow it was common knowledge throughout the criminal fraternity that it was the mild-mannered fraudster Jack Duval who had murdered Cornell. His convictions were lovingly put to him by the prosecution, as was the incontrovertible fact that he had been certified insane twice. ‘That does not stop me telling the truth,’ he complained. As he was taken down to the cells through the dock, he shook hands with the Twins, calling out, ‘Good luck.’
Things did not improve for Ronnie when Platts-Mills next called John Shea, who had only made a statement to Haeems an hour before giving evidence and who was serving ten years for manslaughter. At least the next witness Sammy Lederman had only a conviction for being in a common gaming house back in the 1940s. Lederman had been turned again and now said he was in The Lion from shortly before 8.30, where he had seen Kray and Barrie. He accepted that he had driven with the others to Walthamstow but had heard nothing about Cornell’s death. Unfortunately the prosecution put to him the interview he had with Henry Mooney at which he said he had been home with his father, but he was unable to explain the discrepancy satisfactorily. Nor did Joey Cannon, then serving four years for robbery, help much either. The next witness, an optician, said Ron Kray had such defective eyesight that he could not have recognised Cornell at a distance of more than eight to ten feet.