Crime Scene Investigator (35 page)

Over the following weeks and months they continued to engage the police, and sought support from the local community and press.

It had a result; Peter Hampson, the chief constable, recognised the concerns of the family and ordered a new investigation under the direction of a detective superintendent. The family sought the support of the Home Office and even saw the Home Secretary, who promised the police would do all they could.

An investigative news team, from Channel 4, agreed to produce a documentary on the case and I was called in to offer advice to the news team.

I met the news team at the Moat House Hotel in Telford. It was early evening and getting dark, the autumn evenings were drawing in. The producer, Ian Hunter, had briefed me on the phone and we had discussed the case, based on his knowledge of it, at length.

His concerns, echoed by the family, were that the police had not been interested. I met Errol’s sister Doreen and a younger brother. They were nice people, they were good people and I felt their grief and frustration, still strong some ten months after Errol had died. I also met Errol’s mother, Joyce. It was apparent from the outset that she believed her son had been killed, and nothing would change that. I promised her that I would try and find the truth, and I would look and look hard, but the truth might be unpleasant and painful to hear. She would have none of that; her son had been murdered, and that was final. My words struck Ian as a little hard, but I felt compelled to say them. Doreen and her brother were genuinely grateful that at least I was listening.

I agreed to go to the house where Errol had been found. Negotiations with Jimmy Ross were delicate. He was unhappy with all the attention he and his home were getting. However, he was good friends with the McGowan family and he would not turn down any request from the matriarch, Joyce. He had too much respect.

The following morning we went to Urban Gardens and were met by Jimmy. He led me in. Although the scene was ten months old and I was entering to give advice, I still felt some trepidation. I was entering an alleged crime scene and I was not in the usual protective clothing. It didn’t stop me from instinctively sticking my hands in my pockets, an impulse taught in my early days as a scene investigator, long before the modern techniques and routine white suits we now use.

The house was small. A large three-piece suite took up most of the cosy front room. My first thought was to look in the immediate vicinity of the door where Errol had been found hanged. I was struck by its cleanliness. The white paint was a little old and the wallpaper clean but also old. Not a trace of any fingerprint powder. Even after cleaning, I would expect to see some of the tell-tale signs. Some traces in the cracks or edges. But there were none. Perhaps the doors had been removed and taken away for examination at the police headquarters laboratory. I knew West Mercia Police had a good scientific support department with committed staff, some of whom I knew. Had they ever been called? Had they even attended? I wondered. I looked at the door hinges to see if there was any disturbance to confirm their removal. There was none. The hinges were still painted over. Jimmy Ross confirmed that the doors had not been painted for a few years. The wallpaper also showed no sign of treatment with chemicals.

It dawned on me with some horror that this central part of the scene, possibly the whole scene had not been examined. This in spite of the new investigation called within a few months of Errol’s death. What about the assurances of the chief constable and Home Secretary that everything possible was being done?

I felt embarrassed. I should not be there. How had I got to this scene, ten months after the event, but before the police who are investigating it? How could the family be let down in such a way, and how could a police force, one with a good reputation, committed staff and an excellent scientific support department let themselves down in such a way?

My interview there and then showed my shock and disappointment. My inclination was to throw the film crew out. I had done that at least once before in my career as an investigator when I found one in a scene. This was very different. Our presence there was because of the lack of proper investigation.

The scene had waited ten months. In my opinion it was still worthy of examination. This was because only Jimmy lived there and although we were present and perhaps others had been in the intervening months, we were unlikely to leave our finger marks on the door and wall in any quantity without specific activity there. In any event our marks could be eliminated. I was struck by the thought that perhaps a suspect (if Errol’s death was suspicious) may have touched the door or the wall in a struggle and their finger marks might still be there. Even with the passage of time they could still be present. In any event, if nobody looked we would never know. It was later suggested to me that any marks would have disappeared, but that is simply not true. Marks can be found months or years later on a suitable surface and both the door and walls were just that. Even ten months after the event, evidence was still potentially there. I put myself in the position of the scene investigator. If I found the finger marks of a white man on the door, a man who had no legitimate reason to be in Jimmy Ross’s home and who had made threats against Errol, would the senior investigating officer be interested? My answer, you bet he would.

I gave some advice to Jimmy, not to paint or disturb the door unnecessarily and to keep visitors away from it until the police examined it. I was determined the police would. They had by far the best facilities and it was their job. I knew their boss and some others; I had probably helped train some of them.

The documentary would be shown within a few weeks. I was aware that the police had no idea what the documentary would show and what my views were. This gave me real concerns. If the documentary produced an increase in the investigation activity, I would hope that it would include re-examining or, more accurately, examining for the first time the house at Urban Gardens. My deepest concern was for Jimmy and his safety. If in fact Errol had been murdered, his murderer would know that the scene may contain some incriminating evidence. Not wishing to be melodramatic, stranger things had happened and I knew that, having worked within the police for a number of years. I feared that someone might try to burn the house down with little regard for Jimmy Ross if he were still inside. So I faxed Ian Hunter and demanded that he made the police aware of the content of my views.

By coincidence, Peter Hampson, the chief constable, had been my boss when he was assistant chief constable in Surrey. He was a good, honourable man, an absolute gentleman and a talented and competent leader. He was a great supporter of forensic science and it had been a pleasure to work for him in Surrey. He is exactly the type of person you would want to see as a chief constable. This made it all the more remarkable that his force was being criticised in such a way. It was my personal view that someone, somewhere, had let him down. Such was the honour of the man that he put steps in place, trusting others under his command to put it right and to his absolute credit apologising to the family for the original investigation. It went against the strong view held by many police that they should never apologise, never explain. It was, however, the right thing to do.

On the morning after the screening, the police attended Urban Gardens and removed the door and other items mentioned in my report.

A few months later, as the date of the inquest approached, I was contacted by the McGowan family’s solicitors who asked me to formally look at the case on their behalf and prepare a report for them, one which they would send to the coroner. I agreed and received a pile of documents and statements which I requested for the review.

Much of the detail I had received was confirmed as accurate and I set about reviewing the investigation as best I could. My thoughts about the lack of examination at Urban Gardens were also confirmed. However, in a rebuttal of my view that the doors may contain some fingerprint evidence, the head of scientific support for West Mercia, Tristram Elmhirst, disagreed. He had reviewed the case at the time of the first re-investigation and concluded that there would be nothing there after such a time. I had a lot of personal respect for Tristram, but I felt that he was wrong on this matter.

My statement was submitted to the coroner and I was advised that I would be called to give evidence at the inquest.

The atmosphere in Telford became more intense following the death of Errol’s nephew on New Year’s Eve. He was found hanging from railing outside a pub. His death was being dealt with as a suicide but the family were further convinced of foul play. The police were under pressure to demonstrate their commitment to finding out the truth.

The inquest was to be held at the Moat House Hotel in Telford. The coroner’s court was too small for the purpose as there was likely to be a large press presence. The Moat House was centrally located and large enough to fit the needs of what, for all intents and purposes, was a very public event. I was advised that Ronald Thwaites had been instructed to represent West Mercia Police at the inquest. This too surprised me. Ronnie Thwaites was no lover of police. I had come across him many times in my time with the Flying Squad where he had defended suspected armed robbers. It was the view of many police officers that he believed that all police officers were liars. Indeed, shortly afterwards he was the subject of an article in
The Police Review
where he openly stated that it was his job to attack both the evidence and the witnesses’ credibility. All was fair game as far as he was concerned. The irony was not lost on me. There was Ronnie Thwaites representing the police and there was I appearing on the ‘other side’, so to speak. I was not looking forward to the encounter, but I was firm and felt safe on my ground, not that Thwaites would have any respect for that.

Early one evening I got the call from the family’s solicitor that I was required to give my evidence to the inquest first thing the following morning. It was accompanied by the view that Thwaites was after me.

I decided to travel straightaway and stay at the Moat House. The drive would take me a few hours and I wanted to be fresh and rested the following morning, ready and at my best and most alert for Mr Thwaites. Having confirmed a room was available, I set off.

Many rooms at the hotel were occupied by interested parties, members of the press, police and other witnesses. I ran into an old colleague from the Metropolitan Police. Ron Woodland and I had worked together at City Road and Forest Gate. He was an extremely competent detective and I enjoyed his friendship. He had a great sense of humour, and working with him had been enjoyable and fun. Ron was now attached to the Racial Crimes Investigation Squad at New Scotland Yard. They had been formed after the death of Stephen Lawrence and had a nationwide remit and interest. Ron had read my statement and knew of my appointment with Ronnie Thwaites the following morning. He for one was looking forward to the engagement, and he told me so with gleeful relish.

The inquest was being held in one of the larger ballrooms of the hotel. After a light breakfast I made myself known to the coroner’s officer.

The spacious location allowed for large numbers of press and public to occupy the rows of seats behind counsel who were representing the police and the family. The coroner sat on an elevated position on the ballroom’s stage and the inquest jury along the far wall opposite the witness box.

Tristram Elmhirst had already given his evidence the previous day. Peter Herbert was the counsel for the family and it was he who took me through my evidence in chief. This mainly concerned my visit to the scene and the view that the scene had not been examined and was still worthy of examination. It also included that, at various times before my visit to the scene, the police had ample opportunity to review and consider that the scene should have been examined.

Apart from the examination of the door and the wall, I also emphasised that it was never too late to resurrect an investigation when new information was received and even old information realised. All it took was to review the information and act to find out what could still be examined and investigated. There had been an underlying failing in the police investigation, graphically indicated by the scene still not being fingerprinted ten months after the death of Errol McGowan.

Having completed my evidence in chief it was Ronnie Thwaites’s turn and he did not disappoint. True to form, his first attack was on the witness not the evidence. He questioned my qualifications and right to offer such an opinion. He compared me with Tristram Elmhirst, the head of scientific support for West Mercia Constabulary. I had held the identical post in Surrey for eight years. Tristram was a graduate whereas I had a Higher National Certificate vocational qualification in chemistry awarded by the Royal Institute. Tristram held a bachelor’s degree in a pathology science, from recollection. This was all very impressive but not necessarily any more relevant to this field than my own qualification. Thwaites was not going to give up. I then hit upon the idea of having a bit of fun, it would be tricky but the outcome could be worthwhile if I could get away with it. It would go something like this:

‘It is true, Mr Thwaites, that I do not have a degree in pathology and neither do I have a more relevant qualification such as the prestigious Forensic Science Society Diploma in Crime Scene Investigation,’ I would say.

‘So, Mr Millen, you have no qualification in this field. Can you explain why not and why we should listen to you?’ Thwaites would seize the opportunity.

‘Well, I set up the Forensic Science Society’s diploma and ran the examination board for seven years!!’ I would close.

I knew Thwaites would have done his homework and probably have been briefed by the police, which made me wonder why he was taking the approach of attacking my qualifications. In case he had not and as he seemed keen to attack my qualifications it was worth a try. I felt I could not lose.