by James Morton
But he still could not keep his head down. He and Ron were adamant Myra Hindley should not be released. Reggie wrote to The People that year on his personalised notepaper, citing the case of his friend Joey Martin, who had been convicted in 1965 for killing a man in an armed robbery and was not whining about his sentence.100 Nevertheless in November 1994 he was finally downgraded to Category C status.
Julian Broadhead, a probation officer experienced in dealing with lifers, thought:
‘Everyone knew it was going to be forever. The risk factor in releasing him would have kept him in but he and his friends and supporters made it easy for the Home Office to do just that. Every time he made the newspapers, every time there was another book about or by him, every time there was a demonstration or petition on his behalf, every report that he was running businesses from prison, the cell door became ever harder to unlock.’101
Two years later he was described as ‘manipulative and wielding considerable power’. He had, said the report, changed little during his sentence and was still a risk to the public.
He was still not cooperating over his interviews for parole. He declined to go to Wayland, a Category C prison near Thetford in Norfolk, or to be interviewed by the local probation service and a psychologist.
A report dated 21 December 1995 explained that Reggie had not been released because ‘he has little insight into the reality of his offending and as such he remains a risk’. He also had an alcohol problem: the authorities knew he was drinking illicit hooch and he said he intended to stop. Nor could he stop writing to the papers.
In November 1996 Reggie told the Daily Mirror’s Jeff Edwards that he was having a homosexual affair with Bradley Allardyce, then serving 12 years for armed robbery. ‘The best way to describe our friendship is that he is like a son to me.’ Allardyce had just married Donna Baker in a ceremony in the prison with Kray as his best man. Reggie had introduced her to Allardyce after she began writing to and then visiting him in prison. Kray gave him a gold identity bracelet inscribed, ‘Goombah – my son’. Allardyce said he hoped to be out the next year and settle down. ‘I wouldn’t want to do that if I was gay, would I?’102
As the years went by it became clear that former friends and lovers were preparing to sell their stories to the newspapers along with his sometimes explicit letters to them. Rumours swirled that he had been pestering young prisoners he fancied, but in an attempt to shut down potential blackmailers Reggie struck first and admitted in a letter to the Sunday People that he was bisexual, blaming it on 26 years in prison. Now he persuaded the prison doctors to have him tested for AIDS.103
As with the killings of Cornell and McVitie, what Ronnie did yesterday, Reggie had to do tomorrow. Once Ronnie had married, it was Reggie’s turn to consider matrimony. It might also help his next parole application. First into the tabloid pages was the model Maureen Flanagan. The feisty Flanagan had known the family since cutting Violet Kray’s hair every Thursday.
At first she thought the proposition a reasonable one, but soon changed her mind, when she realised Reggie really only wanted her to run around asking people for money. When she turned him down, Flanagan was afraid he would take the news badly, but he merely said, ‘Okay, then,’ and changed the subject.104
Next came Gill, whom he called ‘Brown-Eyes’, while she referred to him as Rabbit. Sadly it turned out that Miss Right was in fact already Mrs Right, with a husband called Andy.
Sandra Wrightson came along a few years later, already married to Peter. She said that Kray fantasised she might like a three-in-a-bed with Kray and cellmate Kevin Bulmer. ‘I reckon that you and Kevin should have sex. I’m sure you would like him once you get to know him.’ She also allowed him to grope her through her blouse and he wanted her to fondle him through his undone trousers. As a result, her marriage broke down. At Kray’s insistence she housed an ex-con for three months. When she finally asked her unwanted lodger to leave, Kray was furious. ‘I have given up my life for Reggie Kray,’ she said mournfully.105
Finally however, some brightness came into Reggie’s life. He met Roberta Jones, the daughter of a Lancashire schoolteacher who had died when she was twelve. She had a degree in English Literature and was the director of a successful business. She first met Reggie when a business colleague asked if she would take over the publicity for a video of Ronnie’s 1995 funeral, and she visited Kray in Maidstone with Maureen Flanagan as guide. Later she wrote:
‘It wasn’t love at first, no chemistry or flying sparks. I thought he was interesting, but what was most fascinating was how he had managed to survive that long in jail without going completely mad.’106
And still the ‘Release Reggie’ campaign toiled on – an earlier one in 1993 had resulted in a 10,000-signature petition being sent to Downing Street. Sidelined was the actress Patsy, daughter of Reggie’s old friend Jimmy. Her then-partner Liam Gallagher had told her not get involved with the Krays because it might spoil his image. On the plus side was the fact he had been given £100,000 by Karl Compton, who had served four and a half months for a glassing in a Blackpool pub. Crompton had then won £11 million on the lottery and shared some of it with Reggie. Kray had promised to give it all away to old people and children’s charities, but instead apparently gave his prison friend Allardyce over £50,000. In April 1997 he disassociated himself from a play Inside the Firm based on the book by Tony Lambrianou, which was touring small theatres.
Meanwhile his relationship with Roberta Jones deepened. He telephoned her as soon as she had returned home after her first visit, and from then on bombarded her with calls, letters and requests for her to visit him. Reluctantly she gave him her office telephone number on the promise that he would only telephone in an emergency, but emergencies seemed to happen on a daily basis. As the months progressed it became clear that, after the death of his twin, he was more and more dependent upon her. In May 1997 he was granted permission to marry her in Maidstone. She gave up her directorship and went to live near the prison.
It was quite natural he should want to do something special for his wife to be, but it was equally natural for the authorities to think he was thumbing his nose when on the wedding eve he organised a laser light display on the prison walls. Perhaps it was coincidence, but a condition was imposed that the wedding photographs were to remain in Crown Copyright and they were not released to the Krays for eighteen months.
In August 1997 at long last he was moved to C wing at Wayland; it had a reputation for violence – Reggie had been told black prisoners would try to steal his jewellery – and the prison regime was much harsher than Maidstone.107 Roberta took a flat in Norwich to be near him. Although there were mainly short-term prisoners, visits were three a month instead of six and there were other restrictions on dress. On the other hand, telephone calls seemed to be limited to the credit on the telephone card, and he rang Roberta several times a day. He had trouble settling down there; he was still drinking prison hooch and failing to conform to Wing discipline. If drinking prison liquor was a bar to parole, however, then few prisoners would ever achieve it.
With the 30-year minimum tariff coming to an end, Reggie Kray was still in a Category B prison. The staff at Wayland were relatively busy preparing reports, but Reggie Kray was still not helping himself. Initially he had been placed on report on four occasions for refusing to work but now he was on a cleaning job ‘where he, or others for him, do a reasonable job’. The report went on to say that he was well behaved and polite, if manipulative. Kray’s extramural business activities continued. A second-hand car agency run for him had failed, but now there was talk of a scaffolding business. He was still receiving strong East End support from showbusiness celebrities such as Barbara Windsor and Leslie Crowther, but the report’s writer wondered if this would continue after his release.108
In March 1998 the Parole Board knocked him back again. He had had generally favourable reports from the staff at Wayland but there w
as the caveat that he had not really been there long enough for a thorough assessment, something which was hardly his fault. He and Roberta took this hard; it was not his choice that his transfer from Maidstone had taken so long.
Again, it cannot have helped that the next year the Krays’ tills were still ringing, with a 1999 calendar on offer for £6.95, a key ring with two hands shaking, and a flying jacket priced at £49.95.109 The Free Reggie Campaign received a boost when Roberta went on Sky Television to plead his case, and the next day a friend flew a light aircraft over the prison with a banner reading ‘Reg Kray Political Prisoner 1968-1998’. It was yet another gesture unlikely to endear the prisoner to the authorities.
If he thought Jack Straw, the Home Secretary, would never free him in ordinary circumstances, he was probably correct. After the Parole Board had turned him down and before the next hearing in 2000, the prison psychologist expected him to have satisfactorily completed a long list of assessments, including: Intelligence Test (WAIS III); Enhanced Thinking Skills (ETS); Semi-Structured Interview; Social Response Inventory; Mini Situations Inventory; Personality Questionnaire; Interpersonal Reactivity Index; and eight others. If he completed those successfully he would then be placed on a group work programme and have to show he was applying these skills before being considered for an open prison.110
Meanwhile he was denied what was called ‘town leave’ in which he would have gone to Norwich for the day accompanied by a prison officer, a precursor of home leave. Crowd control was one of the reasons cited. But now there was a steady groundswell of press opinion in his favour, including Simon Heffer in the Daily Mail, and opinion polls in various papers overwhelmingly supported his release. In the end, however, the Parole Board never heard his final application.
Then came what must have seemed the great betrayal. Freddie Foreman appeared on a television documentary to tell of his and Reggie’s involvement in Frank Mitchell’s escape and death, not long before Reggie’s scheduled parole hearing on 10 January 2000. It has never been satisfactorily explained why he acted in this way. Roberta Kray hints at jealousy, though why Foreman should be jealous of a man locked up for 30 years is difficult to fathom. Perhaps even more damaging was a programme that March featuring Dave Courtney, which seemed to depict him smuggling secret recording equipment into Wayland. Courtney claimed it was a practical joke, but it cannot have helped Kray.
The next Kray to die was Charlie. Throughout his time in prison on drugs charges, he had consistently maintained his innocence. In October 1999 he wrote to the wife of one East End friend, ‘you know many people who know me and they know I’ve never seen a drug in my life – in fact it is well known I’m anti-drug and always have been.’
Charlie had thought ‘I’ve never been ill in my life,’ but he developed pneumonia while at Frankland prison. A few days out of the prison hospital, he was transferred to Parkhurst, ‘all in a big rush. I don’t know why, but there you are.’111 After a stroke earlier that year, he now suffered a heart attack. Earlier Reg had been allowed to visit him in Long Lartin, but now on 18 March he was taken from Wayland under strict security to see Charlie in Parkhurst. He left just after eight after the van had been examined by a sniffer dog; they stopped at Winchester for lunch and arrived at 3 p.m. He stayed with Charlie for 45 minutes and remained at the prison, visiting him in the local hospital morning and afternoon. An application for Charlie’s compassionate release had been made earlier but, while the Home Office was waiting for a report from a consultant surgeon at St Mary’s Hospital, Newport, Charlie died on 4 April 2000 with Diane Buffini at his bedside.
The cracks which had existed between the brothers throughout their lives, particularly after Charlie had tried his hopeless scam over the film profits, were finally papered over. Charlie had hoped his would not be a celebrity funeral but, as in his life, Reggie’s wishes prevailed and his funeral was masterminded by his younger brother.
The funeral cars were overflowing with flowers, one in the form of a broken heart from Diane Buffini which read, ‘To my darling Charlie, with my eyes wide open, am I dreaming, can it be time?’ A boxing ring of flowers from his brother read, ‘Dear Charlie, rest in peace, Love Reg and Ron’ and three-foot high red boxing gloves made out of chrysanthemums were sent from his friends on C Wing in Parkhurst. On one side of the hearse that would carry Charlie’s body were the words ‘GENTLEMAN’ and on the other side ‘CHARLIE’ was spelled out with white carnations.
Once again the funeral in East London was policed by bouncers in black overcoats and sunglasses. This was quite apart from the actual police presence, which was said to have cost £2 million. Hells Angels provided security and notable guests included Frankie Fraser, Freddie Foreman – seemingly forgiven over his television gaffe – and John Pearson, who had done so much to create the Kray legends. This time the address was given by Father Ken Rimini, who told the congregation, ‘It is not up to any of us here today to pass judgment on Charlie, now that he stands before a far greater jurisdiction than any judge on earth.’ Hymns again included ‘Fight the Good Fight’, ‘Morning has Broken’ and ‘Abide with Me’. Recordings of Celine Dion and of Shirley Bassey singing ‘As Long as He Needs Me’ were played. Ronnie had had 26 Daimlers in his cortège. It was down to 12 for Charlie, which, of course, was nine more than most people can summon.
On the way to the cemetery Reggie was hailed as the legend he had become. Caps were raised, children ran beside his car and after he had laid a wreath on his wife’s grave, there was a cry for three cheers for him. He held up his handcuffed hand in recognition and disappeared back to Wayland prison.
By the time of Charlie’s death, however, Reggie was seriously ill himself, his constitution ruined by years of prison hooch. He had claimed he had suffered from stomach pains for the past two years if not more. He had been told there was no question of cancer and had been treated with milk of magnesia. Now he did have cancer of the bladder, which moved inexorably to his bowel and then spread further. In the second week of August 2000 he collapsed in his cell and was rushed to hospital, where a large tumour was removed from his bowel. A second operation followed. His condition was being monitored by the Home Office and it was clear ‘in no circumstances could he tolerate prison conditions’. After a great deal of lobbying by his solicitor Trevor Lynn, on the Friday afternoon before the August Bank Holiday came the announcement that the Home Secretary had decided to release him as an act of mercy. A note in his file reads that ‘it is preferable he is released before he dies’. There were, however, conditions. He was not to leave the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital without prior permission from his probation officer.
He stayed nearly a week before he was well enough to be discharged, but it was only a matter of time. The manager of the Town House Hotel in Norwich offered him the honeymoon suite overlooking the river at £35.50 a night. Roberta and his last prison lover Bradley Allardyce discussed funeral arrangements with him there. His stay in the suite had not been well received by two honeymooners who had actually booked it. By the time they were due there he was too ill to be moved and they had their bill remitted. Roberta told the reporters crowding the bar:
‘I read to him and we’d listen to the radio. Friends came for dinner. He drank a weak Scotch looking out over beautiful scenery. And at last we slept in each other’s arms.’
Visitors included Frankie Fraser and there was just time for one last interview, given by Reg to his old friend Bill Curbishley, manager of The Who and brother of Alan, the very successful boss of Charlton Athletic. The interview was controversially sold to the BBC for £280,000. In it Kray unrepentantly told his faithful public:
‘It is very difficult to apologise in some cases but not in others, but I suppose I’ve been a bit too violent over the years. I make some apologies about it but there again there is little I can do about it now so again, it’s no good reflecting back, it’s pointless, negative.’
He also spoke about another killi
ng, thought by Nipper Read to refer to Mad Teddy Smith. There was, however, a word of advice for today’s youth:
‘Prison life is a waste of time. I get letters from all over the country and I advise kids, it’s very difficult when kids have nothing to do and no money and all kinds of social problems out there, so it’s easier to say than it is done, but speaking from my heart to them I would like to see them stay out of prison – some will make it, some won’t.’
Kray also spoke of the murder of McVitie. ‘I didn’t like the fellow McVitie. He did everything wrong. He was very uncouth, he was loud and aggressive… a vexation to the spirit.’ He said McVitie had ‘pushed’ him into the murder and that on the night he had ‘a lot of frustration in me and anger, probably more anger that night than any other night of my life’.
Reggie’s friend Wilf Pyne telephoned Foreman to tell him that it seemed that Reggie was dying and they had better come soon. Roberta tried to cancel Foreman’s visit but he came nevertheless, with Joey Pyle and Johnny Nash. They found Allardyce stroking his thigh in the Norwich honeymoon suite while Allardyce’s wife, Donna, looked on and Roberta mopped his brow. When a doctor came in to see Reggie they went to the hotel bar until Wilf Pyne told them they could come back.
Roberta Kray says that as Reggie was dying, Freddie Foreman locked himself in the bathroom and the others were banging trying to get him out. She thought they’d come to reclaim him as their own. Foreman claims he whispered, ‘Time to let go, son,’ or words to that effect, to the last of the Krays, and had then locked himself in the en-suite while the others alternated between banging on the door and returning to the bedside to be in at the death.
Foreman poignantly described and re-enacted the scene in a conversation with Tony Lambrianou in Getting it Straight:
‘He gasped his last fucking gasp for air and that was the old fucking death rattle then you know. And I went straight to the bathroom and Wilf came over and said, ‘He’s dead,’ and I said, ‘I know he’s dead.’ Course, I got a little bit emotional and then I went back out into the room and Roberta sat down on the bed and was crying, having a little sob over there. And we just came down and went to the bar.’112