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Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast - #135: Daniel Gonzales - The Lost Boy (Part One)

30/6/2021

BEST TRUE-CRIME PODCAST at British Podcast Awards, The Telegraph's Top Five True-Crime Podcasts, The Guardian and TalkRadio's Podcast of the Week, Podcast Magazine's Hot 50 and iTunes Top 25. Subscribe via iTunes, Spotify, Acast, Stitcher and all podcast platforms.

Welcome to the Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast and audio guided walk of London's most infamous and often forgotten murder cases, all set within and beyond the West End.

A weekly true-crime podcast - EVERY THURSDAY
300+ infamous, untold or often forgotten true murders
Based on Soho's FIVE STAR rated Murder Mile Walks
Researched from original and first-hand sources
Authentic sounds recorded from the location itself

To accompany your audio guided walk, what follows is a series of photos, videos and maps, so that no matter where you are listening to this podcast, you'll feel like you're actually there.

Note: this image is of Tottenham Court Road tube today, not the original entrance which has since been demolished.

EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE:
Today’s episode is the first in a four-part series on Daniel Gonzales. Dubbed the ‘Freddy Krueger killer’, his two-day killing-spree across London and the South-East of England left two injured and four dead. But why did he kill? Was he bad, or mad?

Date: Friday 17th September 2004 at 12:17pm (arrest)
Location: Platform 4, southbound Northern Line, Tottenham Court Road tube, W1
Victims: 6 (injured: Peter King and Koumis Constantinou, murdered: Marie Harding, Kevin Molloy and Derek & Jean Robinson)
Culprits: Daniel Julian Gonzales

CLICK HERE to download the Murder Mile podcast via iTunes and to receive the latest episodes, click "subscribe". You can listen to it by clicking PLAY on the embedded media player below.

THE LOCATION
As many photos of the case are copyright protected by greedy news organisations, to view them, take a peek at my entirely legal social media accounts - Facebook, Twitter or Instagram.

This is the location of Platform 4 of the southbound Northern Line tube at Tottenham Court Road tube where Daniel Gonzales was arrested. It is marked with a fuscia cross near the words 'Tottenham Court Road'. To use the map, click it. If you want to see the other murder maps, access them by clicking here.

Here's two little videos of the location of Daniel's arrest; on the left was taken recently by myself, and on the right is Platform 4 of the Northern Line at Tottenham Court Road tube - the same location - as used in the horror film An American Werewolf in London. It's odd that a horror movie fan would be arrested in such a synonymous spot.

Silence by Cult With No Name (Intro and interstitials)
Winsome Lose Some by Cult With No Name (credits)
Creep by Emmit Fenn
Antimatter by The Westerlies
To Have To In Least Water by Patches
Traversing by Godmode
Sun Awakening by Futuremono
Fun House by Coyote Hearing
Scriabin Etude op.2 n°1 for theremin, cello and piano
When Gods Pontificate by Dan Boden
Anton by Dan Boden

UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT OF THE EPISODE:

SCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile; a true-crime podcast and audio guided walk featuring many of London’s untold, unsolved and long-forgotten murders, all set within and beyond the West End.

Today’s episode is the first in a four-part series on Daniel Gonzales. Dubbed the ‘Freddy Krueger killer’, his two-day killing-spree across London and the South-East of England left two injured and four dead. But why did he kill? Was he bad, or mad?

Murder Mile is researched using authentic sources. It contains moments of satire, shock and grisly details. And as a dramatization of the real events, it may also feature loud and realistic sounds, so that no matter where you listen to this podcast, you’ll feel like you’re actually there.

My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile.

Episode 135: Daniel Gonzales: The Lost Boy – Part One.

Today I’m standing in Tottenham Court Road tube station, W1; one street west of the Denmark Place Fire, one street north of the murder or suicide of Freddie Mills, one street south of the Corner House Killer and a few streets north of diminished responsibility of Joe Gynane - coming soon to Murder Mile.

Under St Giles’ Circus at the junction of Oxford Street, Charing Cross Road and New Oxford Street sits Tottenham Court Road tube station. Opened in 1900 as part of Central London Railway, TCR intersects the Central Line, Northern Line and soon Crossrail, carrying almost forty million passengers every year.

Pandemic or not, a quick trip on the London tube is a grim experience at best. With sticky seats, dirty air and long lines of muttering morons moaning about the next train being a whole minute away, the dizzying infestation of rats running along the tunnels (where they recently rediscovered the plague) is a nice distraction, but it’s no more disgusting that the lady I witnessed cutting her toenails on the train.

As with much of London’s public transport, it’s had a sad history of disasters, terrorism and accidents; experiencing everything from stabbings, to shootings, to pushers, even to assassinations.

On Friday 17th September 2004 at 12:17pm, on Platform 4 of the southbound Northern Line - where blood-hungry lycanthrope David Kesler savaged a commuter in An American Werewolf in London - 24-year-old avid horror-movie fan Daniel Gonzales would be arrested for real. Having travelled 140 miles with an eight-inch knife, a Jason Voorhees mask and a dream of being “Freddy Krueger for the day”, he had left trail of bloody bodies in his wake. And although still keen to notch-up a score of ‘ten dead’, to be hailed among the pantheon of infamous maniacs, his killing-spree came to an unremarkable end.

As always, the tabloids drooled over every lurid detail of this gory tale; about his drugs, his knives, his method and especially the blood. Fixated on the monster behind-the-mask, Daniel was branded as a maniac born out of pure evil, like Freddy Krueger himself. But what they missed was the true-story.

But the real horror was not the murders, but a mental health system in crisis; which failed his victims, his mother and this lonely little boy lost inside his own mind... repeatedly ignored until he killed.

As it was here, following the arrival of two British Transport Police officers, that Daniel’s diagnosis was first taken seriously. But still the question would remain; was he bad, or was he mad? (Interstitial)

(Daniel) “I was bored. I had a rubbish life. I wanted to know what it felt like to kill as many people as possible. I felt wicked doing it. This is something I live for. It’s a really good buzz – killing”.

On Friday 17th March 2006, at the Old Bailey, Daniel Gonzales was convicted of the attempted murders of Peter King and Koumis Constantinou, and the murders of Marie Harding, Kevin Molloy and Derek & Jean Robinson. Six strangers chosen at random, brutally butchered without an ounce of compassion.

Having deliberated for ninety minutes, the jury dismissed any notion that his crimes were guided by a mental illness, as “being in his right mind”, he was found guilty of murder and nothing less.

Judge Ann Goddard QC would state “you have brought unspeakable misery and grief to the families of those you killed. Your actions have put fear into their lives. You killed four people, and on each occasion, you went out to kill. You armed yourself with a knife, you chose who to kill and where to kill, in places where there would be no witnesses. In my view this is a case where life should mean life".

Daniel was sentenced to six life terms, one for each victim, with it later extended to a whole life tariff. Throughout his arrest, investigation and trial, Daniel relished in his glory and showed no remorse.

He was psychopath, pure and simple, and although his history of mental illness was raised in court, there was no denying the immutable facts - Daniel had callously planned and executed every murder.

Upon his conviction, Daniel’s mother gave her condolences to those her son had murdered. But rightly, she criticised the injustice she had witnessed, time and time again, as "every time we asked for help, or Daniel did himself, we were told we would have to wait for a crisis to occur”.

A crisis did occur...

...four people had died...

...by then, it was too late.

But this wasn’t a one-off. As being bounced between doctors, dismissed as a fraud and stuck in an inexcusable vacuum of referrals, not a single department took full responsibility for Daniel’s diagnosis or treatment for almost two decades. And it all began, when he was just a boy.

(VHS rewind) 21st June 1980. Frimley Park Hospital in Surrey. Daniel Julian Gonzales was born. His birth was fine, his weight was right and there were no major medical issues. As starts go, his upbringing was ordinary and uneventful, being a healthy happy boy to Lesley Savage and her husband Julian Gonzales.

Home was Southwood Avenue in the village of Knaphill in Woking; a ring of post-war homes with neat gardens, sloping drives and surrounded by country walks and golf courses. It was a nice place to live.

As many marriages do, in 1986, when Daniel was six, his parents separated and later divorced. But keen to give his life stability, they kept it amicable; Lesley remarried, Steven Harper became Danny’s step-dad and although Julian had moved to Spain, this father and son remained in close contact.

So far, unremarkable.

Problems began in nursery. Being bright, he lacked the social skills to interact. But Daniel was different, as his mother would later state “he was extremely intelligent but extremely disruptive... he could be absolutely charming but also very manipulative”, which some put down to him being an only-child.

At primary school, he excelled but becoming more insular, he regressed inside his own mind and spoke to no-one; except himself, an imaginary friend and the volatile fights he would inflict on his mum. For Lesley, the warning signs were there, “I didn’t know something was going to happen, but I was scared”.

At secondary school, his first mental-health assessment was made by an educational psychologist who diagnosed him with Dysgraphia – a learning difficulty affecting his ability to write, which didn’t explain any other symptom. Aged 15, he was expelled, but being permitted to finish his exams, he graduated with eight GCSE’s and went on to study Spanish and drama at Brooklands College, but dropped out.

(Typing) 28th November 1996. Daniel was referred to the Frimley Children’s Centre in Camberley, but he wasn’t given a psychiatric assessment at that time, instead he was seen by a social worker.
It’s easy to dismiss his doctors as incompetent, but as an inquest would later state “his illness was atypical and the lack of acute episodes or consistent symptoms made diagnosis difficult”. In his teens, he was troubled, but he wasn’t a monster; he had issues, but he could be as ordinary as any other boy.

Which is why the murder trial revolved around one important question; was he bad, or was he mad?

With no routine, Daniel’s mental health declined. (Daniel) “I haven’t had a job for four years; I haven’t had a girlfriend for ages. I couldn’t handle growing up to be a man. I just couldn’t take it any more”.

In 1997, he had two attempts at employment organised by his mum, a job in a bank and at Blockbuster Video, but the longest lasted a week as he couldn’t concentrate and often got exasperated and angry.

To fill his hours of solitude - as moody teens often do - he played football by himself, he glared at his PlayStation from dawn till dusk, and took recreational drugs like cannabis, as he said it kept him calm. But years later, as his need grew, he began to abuse skunk, LSD, ecstasy, cocaine and amphetamines.

With music and movies often blamed for the downfall of youth by those who abbreviate each medium down to its basest level (beats, drugs, blood); Daniel listened Doomcore; a dark ultra-fast techno full of violent themes, sinister tones and a heart-paralysing 500 beats-per-minute, and watched slasher films like Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th and Hallowe’en, where a masked knife-wielding essence of evil stalks his screaming victims. But then again, who doesn’t have an unhealthy obsession?

Aged 16, he committed his first criminal offences, including shoplifting and assault, during which he bit a bus-driver’s ear. In October 1997, he was placed on a two-year Probation Order and – having said that he was hearing voices – he was sent to a drugs counsellor. But unable to diagnose his condition, they resorted to clinical default and Daniel’s symptoms were blamed on “a drug-induced psychosis”.

In April 1997, with his exasperated mother struggling to cope with a fully-grown, physically strong and wildly unpredictable son – being at her wits end and with very little help from mental health services – Lesley took a brave decision. She placed her son with Mr & Mrs Sloane; a foster family who were trained to deal with his psychotic behaviour, and later, a new carer called Steve Price, who informed every necessary department that Daniel “was at a potential high risk of violence and/or suicide”.

(Typing) February 1998. Daniel was admitted under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act to an open psychiatric unit at St Peter’s Hospital in Chertsey, having harmed himself by punching a window. But before the assessment was even complete, he was discharged by a Mental Health Review Tribunal.

After scores of letters and calls, in which his mother repeatedly pleaded (sometimes in bold capitals) with the words “I NEED HELP!”, Lesley was dismissed, ignored and re-referred to another “specialist”.

On 22nd June 1998 - six years before his killing-spree - in a letter to the Director of Surrey Social Services Lesley wrote these prophetic words – “Does Daniel have to murder or be murdered before he can get the treatment he so badly needs?" – words she would repeat, again, and again, and again.

(VHS Fast-Forward). Wednesday 15th September 2004. Day one. Victim one. 24-year-old Daniel packed his rucksack with a set of spare clothes, a Jason Voorhees-style hockey mask and two five-inch steak knives, which he jabbed at the plastic washing-up bowl to gee himself up, muttering “come on boy”.

His motive was simple, “I wanted to kill as many people as possible, as many as ten”, and see himself in the serial killer hall of fame. “It took two days to plan”. And as the prosecutor would state “because of the callous person he is, it was his personality that led him to kill, not a cocktail of drugs and alcohol".

At 9am, Daniel left Southwood Avenue, hopped on a bus at Knaphill High Street to Woking Station, he caught a train to Portsmouth Harbour, travelled 49 miles south and got off at Hilsea. Leaving the train at about 11:20am, he walked one mile north-west to Hilsea Lines; an 19th century gun-emplacement along Portsbridge Creek - a lush woodland full of leafy canopies, dark gullies and narrow paths.

11:40am. With his heart pounding, a steak knife gripped in his sweaty palm and the four familiar voices inside his head spitting words - which he described as a drip-drip-drip “like water-torture”, each telling him to “kill, kill, kill, kill” - his dream of being “Freddy Krueger for the day” was about to become reality.

Peter & Janice King were a couple in their sixties taking their dog for a walk. But to Daniel, their names were unimportant, as all they represented were his first two notches on his serial-killer scorecard.

“Kill, kill, kill, kill”. Daniel entered the path. “Kill, kill, kill, kill”. The knife at his side. “Kill, kill, kill, kill”. And like his horror-movie heroes; (“kill, kill, kill, kill”) he stalked, he was silent and then he struck.

With the voices screaming “knife em, knife em, knife em”, Daniel lunged at Peter’s face with the five-inch blade, (“kill, kill, kill, kill”), slashing wildly as he wailed “I’m gonna kill you” at the unarmed man.

Only Daniel was not the epitome of pure evil like Hallowe’en’s Michael Myers, as his slashes were fast but badly-aimed, striking Peter’s chin but not his neck. And although almost three times his attacker’s age - seizing his chance - Peter grabbed Daniel’s hand and the two tumbled into the undergrowth, only for Daniel to drop the knife and flee, shouting “Sorry, I am a schizophrenic, I can’t help it” as he ran.

Peter King was taken to hospital, he received a several stitches and was released later that day.

The Police attended the scene, found the knife, but the fingerprints matched no-one on their system.

And as for Daniel’s fantasy of becoming a serial-killer, it came crashing down to earth, with the voices silenced and his face smacking hard on the concrete of reality. But he wouldn’t give up in his mission to “kill as many as possible... maybe ten”, as all he would need was someone more vulnerable.

(VHS Rewind). 14th September 1998. Daniel’s first crisis meeting, attended by social services, youth justice services, children’s services and the community mental health team. All agreed that Daniel was a “potential high risk of violence and/or suicide”, but a psychiatrist stated “I felt that he was probably psychotic, but I did not think he was sectionable because of his lucidity and lack of a delusions”.

Five days later, Daniel was sectioned.

From 28th September 1998 to 14th April 1999, Daniel was committed to Oaktree Psychiatric Clinic, under Section 3 of the Mental Health Act, but later, Sections 35, 36, 37 and 136, having beaten himself over the head with a saucepan, with his behaviour described as “like a wild animal in a cage”.

Daniel was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, treated with anti-psychotic drugs, and opened-up about the four voices in his head; who told him what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and why. They each had a name and their own personality. There was Katrina, Misha, Melinda and Jenny Bean.

His mother had seen it herself “I knew he could see someone because he would look at them and talk. I would say ‘Daniel, what were you doing; who were you talking to?’, but he would always deny it”.

Over the last two years; Daniel had been diagnosed with four separate conditions, supervised by seven different doctors, repeatedly sectioned, discharged, referred and trialled on a cocktail of psychiatric drugs, including Chloromazine, Olanzapine, Thioridazine, Pipothiazine, Sulpiride and Procyclidine.

But finally, having been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, he was given the right medication, counselling and regular support, he was weaned off recreation drugs and was making progress.

Only, once he was discharged, that consistency ceased.

In his own words, Daniel told an inquest: “To have proper care, you need a doctor to follow your path and to cross-examine you thoroughly. If I was seeing someone two or three times a week, that’s at least something”.

But he wasn’t.

As Lesley re-iterated “Despite our pleas, Daniel was left without the support he so desperately needed. We met individual decent caring professionals who were dedicated and hard-working, but even they could not sustain any support over time, as Daniel was moved from one service to another".

As for his medication, they tempered the voices and delusions, but every drug comes with side-effects. With many anti-psychotics, these would include agitation, tremors and muscle rigidity, which some patients describe as like “living in a cocoon”, “barely a life” and to some “it’s like being in hell”.

Dismissing his medication, Daniel returned to the recreational drugs which he trusted to kept him calm – cannabis and ketamine – but didn’t imprison him inside his own body. But any withdrawal came with their own side-effects. On separate holidays in Canada and Spain, his father and mother both saw a boy in absolute mental despair - “he was completely bizarre, scary... we were frightened to death”.

Without a regular routine or consistent care, his boredom returned and he was back at square one.

In August 2007 – three years after the murders - an independent investigation concluded that Daniel “was not treated successfully, health professionals never engaged with him effectively, and it was a case of missed opportunities”. But as “his illness was atypical and lacked acute episodes or symptoms”, North West Surrey Mental Health Partnership would declare that as the murders were "not preceded by a history of violence, therefore we do not believe that his actions could have been predicted".

Which was true.

His criminal record was short and insignificant; theft, shoplifting, drug possession, non-compliance of community orders and one case of burglary. Aged 16, he had one charge of assault having bit a bus-driver’s ear during an altercation, but his report showed “no-known violence since”. He had no arrests for weapons, stalking, cruelty, arson, GHB, ABH or manslaughter – as would be expected - he had threatened others (mostly verbally) and his history of physical violence was predominantly self-harm.

On paper, this was not a serial-killer in the making...

...but the warning signs were there, and again Lesley’s prophetic words would come back to bite them; “Does Daniel have to murder or be murdered before he can get the treatment he so badly needs?"

(VHS Fast-Forward) Wednesday 15th September 2004. Day one. Victim two. As detectives swarmed Hilsea Lines to investigate the motiveless stabbing of Peter King, Daniel caught the train to Fishergate, 43 miles east along the English south coast and walked two miles north-west to Thundersbarrow Hill; a beauty spot of open fields and shrouded woods, on the edge of the Highdown residential estate.

As before, he stood, watched and waited – (Daniel) “I went to the first place I could go to kill someone” - but having been overpowered by his first victim, now he would wait for someone more vulnerable.

73-year-old pensioner Marie Harding was a lovely lady. Described as "the nicest kindest and dearest person you could imagine", she was a well-loved die-hard supporter Brighton and Hove Albion Football Club, who worked in the club’s ticket office, where “she always had a smile for everybody". She was a loving wife to husband Jim, loyal mother to Julie and a dedicated grandmother to Natalie and Daniel.

As was her routine, having visited her family on nearby Oakdene Crescent, Marie was walking home.

The day was sunny, fresh and bright. It was the kind of day you would take a stroll in the woods.

The exact time of the attack is unknown.

With his heart pounding, (“kill, kill, kill, kill”) a steak knife in his palm, (“kill, kill, kill, kill”) and the drip-drip-drip of four sinister voices splitting his head like water torture (“kill, kill, kill, kill”), as the small frail lady tottered onto the secluded path (“kill, kill, kill, kill”), donning an ominous white hockey mask just like his horror-movie hero; (“kill, kill, kill, kill”), from behind, he stalked, was silent, then he struck.

“I put my hand on her mouth and stabbed” as his cold blade slit through her back. “She was screaming” and as her bleeding body dropped like a dead-weight onto the leafy path, “I slit her throat”. Silencing her, as he stole £20 from her purse. His callous logic? “It was a dead person, why not take her money”.

Only Marie wasn’t dead, but dying. Paralysed, bleeding and gasping for breath, she felt a numbness as a chill enveloped her and her cooling blood drained into the newly-sodden soil. And there, as this terrified woman lay – helpless, alone but barely alive - seeing her cowardly assailant flee into the dim distance, as the good life she had lived slowly ebbed away. (Fade to silence, voices replaced by birds).

At 4:20pm, a dog-walker found the body of Marie Harding. But to Daniel, her name meant nothing, she was just a number. His first notch on the scoreboard and his place in serial-killer infamy. (End)
Thousands of football fans paid tribute to Marie with a minute’s silence at their next game. Her family were devastated, her town was is disbelief and the police were at a loss. With no witnesses, no weapon and very little forensics, all they had was a senseless killing by an unknown assailant, similar to the attack on Peter King, for which they had no suspect who matched the fingerprints or description.

There is no denying, Daniel Gonzales did commit this murder. At his trial, evidence included CCTV footage of his journeys, the tickets and travel cards he purchased, his hockey mask was spattered with Marie’s DNA, he made a full confession, and a key piece of evidence used to convict him was his diary.

On the train journey home, he wrote “I will be a serial killer. I mean it. I promise. I will be a serial killer”. Writing of her last moments, “I got that old bitch proper, bloodbath, pouring out of her throat, boy, McFlurry! I got to say this, it felt really, really, really good. One of the best things I’ve done in my life”.

Three hours later, Daniel was back home in Knaphill, sitting in his bedroom, as seen by his mother at 7.15pm. It was as if nothing had happened and therefore, nobody was none the wiser.

At his trial for the murder of Marie Harding and three others, the judge would ask “was he mad, or bad?” And having been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, surely that answered the question?

But was Daniel Gonzales really a paranoid schizophrenic, or (as some professionals suspected) was this wannabe spree-killer manipulating his symptoms and failures in the system to avoid prison?

OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile.

That was part one of four of Daniel Gonzales – The Lost Boy.

As always, if you enjoyed that episode, stay tuned after the break for some cake, a cuppa, some waffle, and lots of extra details about this case. But before that, a true-crime promo. Oooh.

A big thank you to my new Patreon supporters, who are; Absinthe, Lynda Fyfe, Claire Gibson, Menna Lukey, Sarah Pightling, Amanda Simms, Queen Jay, Anne-Marie Griffin, Rikke Vej (Rick-eh Viy) and Mark Dunstan. I thank you, the coots thank you and even the greedy swans thank you.

Plus a thank you to everyone who shares a link to Murder Mile on social media. It’s not easy being an tiny little handmade independent podcast trying to compete with the big corporate giants who spend millions of advertising, so every personal recommendation is very much appreciated.

Murder Mile was researched, written and performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name.

Thank you for listening and sleep well.

*** LEGAL DISCLAIMER
The Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast has been researched using the original declassified police investigation files, court records, press reports and as many authentic sources as possible, which are freely available in the public domain, including eye-witness testimony, confessions, autopsy reports, first-hand accounts and independent investigation, where possible. But these documents are only as accurate as those recounting them and recording them, and are always incomplete or full of opinion rather than fact, therefore mistakes and misrepresentations can be made. As stated at the beginning of each episode (and as is clear by the way it is presented) Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast is a 'dramatisation' of the events and not a documentary, therefore a certain amount of dramatic licence, selective characterisation and story-telling (within logical reason and based on extensive research) has been taken to create a fuller picture. It is not a full and complete representation of the case, the people or the investigation, and therefore should not be taken as such. It is also often (for the sake of clarity, speed and the drama) presented from a single person's perspective, usually (but not exclusively) the victim's, and therefore it will contain a certain level of bias and opinion to get across this single perspective, which may not be the overall opinion of those involved or associated. Murder Mile is just one possible retelling of each case. Murder Mile does not set out to cause any harm or distress to those involved, and those who listen to the podcast or read the transcripts provided should be aware that by accessing anything created by Murder Mile (or any source related to any each) that they may discover some details about a person, an incident or the police investigation itself, that they were unaware of.
*** LEGAL DISCLAIMER

Michael J Buchanan-Dunne is a writer, crime historian, podcaster and tour-guide who runs Murder Mile Walks, a guided tour of Soho’s most notorious murder cases, hailed as “one of the top ten curious, quirky, unusual and different things to do in London”, nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British Podcast Awards", one of The Telegraph's top five true-crime podcasts and featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totaling 50 deaths, over just a one mile walk.

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Meander Mile: #7 Frith Street

18/6/2021

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Nominated BEST TRUE-CRIME PODCAST at British Podcast Awards, The Telegraph's Top Five True-Crime Podcasts, The Guardian and TalkRadio's Podcast of the Week, Podcast Magazine's Hot 50, iTunes Top 25. Subscribe via iTunes, Spotify, Acast, Stitcher and all podcast platforms.

Every-so-often I will be rolling out a new style of episode called Meander Mile, where I take you on a guided walk through a single street in London; I'll show you streets and murder cases you're already familiar with and others as yet untold.

Over the next three weeks we'll be focussing on three roads we've visited many times before on Murder Mile which go right through Soho and intersect with Old Compton Street.

This week's episode focuses on Frith Street.

CLICK HERE to download the Murder Mile podcast via iTunes and to receive the latest episodes, click "subscribe". You can listen to it by clicking PLAY on the embedded media player below.

THE LOCATIONS
For your enjoyment, I've posted photos of the locations discussed in this episode. They're all in chronological order. These photos were taken by myself (copyright Murder Mile).

The starting point on the corner of Soho Square and Frith Street is on the far left.

1 – Soho walk-in clinic "it's not cancer"
2 - 66 Frith Street, Ababile Ricca and Francis Farrugia's flat
3 - 65 Frith Street, Jimmy Gee/G and the blocked waste pipes
4 - Hazlett's Hotel, 6 Frith Street,
5 - 10 Frith Street, next to Nando's, Mary Choate/Coate/Cotter and the mummies
6 - Corner of Bateman Street and the Dog n Duck pub / Jacqueline Birri
7 - Simmons / The Carlisle Arms and the drinking game
8 - 14 Frith Street, Garlic & Shots and "Limpy" Roberts
9 - 15 Frith Street, Alfredo Zomparelli's travel agent's
10 - 47 Frith Street, Blackout Ripper's "happy finish"
11 - 17 Frith Street, the unnamed shotgun victim
12 - Corner of Old Compton Street, the omnibus crash
13 - Between Romilly Street and Old Compton, the thug who "taxed" the homeless
14 - Coach & Horses pub, murder by "diminished responsibility"
the German tinpot maker who killed his wife and himself (sorry, no photo)

If you would like to follow the journey, simply use this handy Googlemaps Streetview link above. This is the start position and you can follow the directions (above) while you listen to the podcast.

Credits: Murder Mile was researched, written and recorded by Michael J Buchanan-Dunne, with the music written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name.

The music featured in this episode include:

Man in a Bag by Cult With No Name (opening and interstitials)
Winsome Lose Some by Cult With No Name (credits)

Michael J Buchanan-Dunne is a writer, crime historian, podcaster and tour-guide who runs Murder Mile Walks, a guided tor of Soho’s most notorious murder cases, hailed as “one of the top ten curious, quirky, unusual and different things to do in London”, nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British podcast Awards 2018", and featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totaling 50 deaths, over just a one mile walk

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Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast - #134: Penny Bell and the Thirty-Year Silence

2/6/2021

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The parking space at Gurnell Leisure centre where Penny Bell's Jaguar was parked and where she was murdered

Welcome to the Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast and audio guided walk of London's most infamous and often forgotten murder cases, all set within and beyond the West End.

A weekly true-crime podcast - EVERY THURSDAY
300+ infamous, untold or often forgotten true murders
Based on Soho's FIVE STAR rated Murder Mile Walks
Researched from original and first-hand sources
Authentic sounds recorded from the location itself

To accompany your audio guided walk, what follows is a series of photos, videos and maps, so that no matter where you are listening to this podcast, you'll feel like you're actually there.

EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR:
Today’s episode is about Penny Bell; a successful businesswoman brutally-stabbed to death in a public place. And although her last moments alive left an exhaustive trail of witnesses and clues, thirty-years on, her murder remains unsolved.

Date: Thursday 6th June 1991 at 10:30am
Location: Gurnell Leisure Centre, Ruislip Road East, Greenword, W13
Victims: 1 (Ruth Penelope "Penny" Bell)
Culprits: Unknown

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This is the location of the car park at the Gurnell Leisure Centre in Greenford where Penny Bell was murdered in her own car. It is marked with a teal cross near the words 'Greenford'. To use the map, click it. If you want to see the other murder maps, access them by clicking here.

This is the location of the car park at Gurnell Leisure Centre where Penny Bell was murdered. This is just a link to YouTube, so don't worry, it won't eat up your data.

Here is also the reconstruction of the attack and the moments leading up to it.

Top left to bottom right: two photos of the parking space at Gurnell Leisure Centre as it looks today, the third photo is of the entrance where the witness said they saw Penny mouthe the words "help me", top right is a wider photo of the car park. Along the bottom is Gurnell Leisure Centre main entrance, the corner of Shelley Road and Greenford Road where Penny's Jaguar clipped the curb (as witnessed by several drivers) as well as Greenford Roundabout and the A40.

SOURCES:

The Guardian 3 Apr 1993
Pinner Observer - Thursday 21 May 1992
Daily Mirror - Saturday 08 June 1991
Amersham Advertiser - Tuesday 31 December 1991
Pinner Observer - Thursday 12 December 1991
Amersham Advertiser - Wednesday 18 September 1991
Hayes & Harlington Gazette - Wednesday 18 September 1991
Daily Mirror - Tuesday 30 March 1993
Harefield Gazette - Wednesday 18 September 1991
Amersham Advertiser - Wednesday 19 June 1991
Daily Mirror - Wednesday 12 February 1992
Amersham Advertiser - Wednesday 02 October 1991
Amersham Advertiser - Wednesday 10 July 1991
Amersham Advertiser - Tuesday 24 December 1991
Observer 16 June 1991
Guardian 12 June 1993
Guardian 30 Mar 1993
Guardian 11 June 1991
Guardian 12 June 1993
Guardian 4 Aug 1992
Amersham Advertiser - Wednesday 26 June 1991
Pinner Observer - Thursday 24 October 1991
Irish Independent - Monday 22 December 2008
Aberdeen Press and Journal - Saturday 28 September 1991
Dundee Courier - Saturday 28 September 1991
Liverpool Echo - Monday 10 June 1991
https://www.youtube.com/watch?fbclid=IwAR3u7CLN7DFG4OROR-LwWeMK-fLgPjzwIErwSUAYOcgWzoOAZnDsepZW8cI&v=-06vx1QU2Gs&feature=youtu.be
https://twitter.com/gmb/status/1355048607142051840?s=21&fbclid=IwAR0XX2xtjrlh7lmadl71jk4c-oRb-kFx9fgYn0hLDNASBZBhhEvlLzJHaIw
https://www.instagram.com/penny_bell_murder/?igshid=gzlnyszpez9m&fbclid=IwAR1qtLY5uYysdLoi3XPhVKwuY78mMHzLiXkY7_wvJrWqhP9O5r7Op6E-J8k
https://www.vice.com/en/article/ev3nyw/the-inside-story-of-britains-most-notorious-cold-case-murder
https://www.bucksfreepress.co.uk/news/631255.murder-appeal/
https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/13885720/what-happened-to-penny-bell/
https://www.standard.co.uk/news/crime/i-ll-never-give-up-hunt-to-find-man-who-killed-my-mother-22-years-ago-vows-daughter-9033949.html
https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2000/jan/11/jamiewilson
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/4233444.stm
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/4218936.stm
https://www.ealingtimes.co.uk/news/18456288.letter-gurnell-memorial-fitting-tribute-murdered-penny/
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3199425/My-precious-Penny-baby-s-helped-reclaim-mother-murder-Daughter-woman-stabbed-50-times-horrific-unsolved-killing-parent-herself.html https://www.mylondon.news/news/west-london-news/unsolved-greenford-murder-woman-stabbed-16749575
CRIMEWATCH RECONSTRUCTION - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXxi_DG-OK8
DONAL MACINTYRE - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IE_lqWlNd5k
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-2045179/Real-lives-I-just-need-know-murdered-mum.html

To name but a few.

MUSIC:

Silence by Cult With No Name (Intro and interstitials)
Winsome Lose Some by Cult With No Name (credits)
Maitre D’Day by Cult With No Name
Untitled by Seclorance
Cooper Avenue by The Westerlies
Quantum realm by The Whole Other
Omonia by Dan Boden
Floating Angelic with drums by James Longley
Sopor by Kai Engel

UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT OF THE EPISODE:

SCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile; a true-crime podcast and audio guided walk featuring many of London’s untold, unsolved and long-forgotten murders, all set within and beyond the West End.

Today’s episode is about Penny Bell; a successful businesswoman brutally-stabbed to death in a public place. And although her last moments alive left an exhaustive trail of witnesses and clues, thirty-years on, her murder remains unsolved.

Murder Mile is researched using authentic sources. It contains moments of satire, shock and grisly details. And as a dramatization of the real events, it may also feature loud and realistic sounds, so that no matter where you listen to this podcast, you’ll feel like you’re actually there.

My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile.

Episode 134: Penny Bell and the Thirty-Year Silence.

Today I’m standing at Gurnell Grove in Greenford, W13; two miles north-east of the kidnap of the Chohan family, one and a half miles north of Alice Gross’ grave, one mile west of where Muriel Eady met Reg Christie, and two miles west of the child-rapist Bernie Cooper - coming soon to Murder Mile.

Situated north of Hanwell sits Gurnell Grove. Where-as once this comprised of a few small farmsteads full of fields for as far as the eye can see, as the city boomed; high-rises shot up, greenery was replaced with grey, one of the last parks became a golf course (where ten tossers in garish checks hog a space fit for a few thousand families) and all that was left is an ugly eyesore ensnared by the snarling A40.

To offset this inequality, beside the Ruislip Road sits Gurnell Leisure Centre. Opened in 1981 - but using a 1970’s design of concrete steps, tubular iron railings and large glass panels - The Gurnell is a council-run leisure centre providing a swimming pool, a gym and a sports track for the local community.

With many schools nearby, for four decades, The Gurnell was the probable epicentre of all outbreaks of verrucas, cold sores, athlete’s foot or ruptured ear-drums in Ealing (as kids let loose for six whole minutes are incapable of speaking in a pitch or a volume which doesn’t make your ears bleed).

Currently the Gurnell Leisure Centre is closed, awaiting a much-needed redevelopment, but thirty years ago, it looked identical. It was a popular and busy hub of activity for the locals, surrounded by school and homes, with handy bus-links on the road outside and a large concrete car park out front.

That day, Penny Bell’s powder-blue Jaguar XJS pulled into the car-park; it was broad daylight, the car park was busy and it was the perfect place to get fit... but an unlikely spot for a very public murder.

And yet, it was here, on Thursday 6th June 1991 at 10:30am, that a trail of clues led to the last moments of Penny Bell’s life. But after the culprit fled, what followed was thirty-years of silence. (Interstitial)

There was very little in Penny’s past which would suggest she was about to be murdered...

Ruth Penelope Bell, known as Penny was born on 28th February 1948 in Burnham-on-Sea, a sweet little seaside town in Somerset. Little is reported about her upbringing, but being adopted, life was difficult. Sent to boarding school from the ages of eight to sixteen, she was lonely, scared and sought stability.

But whereas, a troubled past may lead some people to a trouble future, for Penny, this missing piece of her life spurred her forward in a deep desire to achieve, to be liked and to be respected. Leaving home aged sixteen, the mid-1960’s were a difficult era for a young woman to succeed (even if she had the skills, drive and passion, as Penny had) but what aided her most was the warmth of her personality.

Those who knew Penny described her with the same words; charismatic, effervescent, bright, smart, funny and loving, a strong highly-organised woman who had time and love for everyone. Bursting with energy and compassion, Penny worked for the Samaritans in the charity’s concert division, giving hope to those who feel hopeless, and inspiration to those who felt their future was defined by their past.

In 1970, aged 22 - being possibly a little too young and a little too eager to find love - she married Jon Hayes in the Hampshire town of Gosport. Sadly, it was not to be and they divorced a few years later.

In 1980, her son Matthew was born, and being keen to give her boy the best start in life, although she was a full-time mum, she was also an entrepreneur. In 1981, with ambition in her head and a toddler in her arms, she and her business partner (Michael Flynn) built a very successful catering employment agency called Coverstaff Ltd, initially based out of Acton in West London, which is still there today.

And as her business boomed, her love-life blossomed. In April 1981, she married Alastair Bell, and not long afterwards their daughter Lauren was born. Blessed with a strong relationship which began as a solid friendship, as far as we know, the couple kept no secrets; he knew that she was adopted and divorced, and she knew that he was a bisexual who had lived with a man for the last eleven-years. This openness made their pasts so accepted that Alastair’s former partner was a guest at their wedding.

During the early years of their marriage, the couple lived in a semi-detached house at Whitmore Road in West Harrow, with Alastair working as an estate agent at A S Franklins in South Harrow. But as Penny’s business grew, it made sense for Alistair to become a stay-at-home dad aided by a nanny.

Penny was the main breadwinner, which was unusual in the 1980’s, but for the Bell family, it worked.

In 1990, they moved into a £100,000 house in Baker's Wood, an exclusive little hamlet near the village of Denham in Buckinghamshire, described as ‘The Home of the Stars’. And being a loop of large five-bedroomed homes inside a secure gated community - with private drives, swimming pools and expansive gardens which overlooked the countryside - it was a safe-haven for the semi-wealthy.

By 1991, 43-year-old Penny had left her troubled past behind having forged ahead with a bright future; she had been happily married for ten years, she had two lovely children aged nine and eleven, and her business was a big success. She was happy, loved and respected...

...and yet, someone would hate her so much, they would risk everything to murder her.

In the days leading up to her death, Penny’s life was busy and stressful. Her business had expanded to a new office in Kilburn, and over the last seven months their home in Bakers Wood was undergoing extensive renovations, with as many as six contract firms and twenty builders on site at any time.

As a successful businesswoman in the early 1990’s, Penny always had on her person two items; the latest model of Nokia flip-phone, small enough to pop in a pocket but only capable of making calls, and her Filofax, in which she meticulously detailed her every movement, thought, action or contact.

But by June 1991, gaps appeared in her diary, several actions were out-of-character and described as “the most stressed I have ever seen her”, Penny brushed off her family’s concerns as tiredness.

On Monday 3rd June, three days before her murder, Penny withdrew £8500 (£16,000 today) from the couple’s joint bank account. This was not usual, as she often withdrew large sums, and most purchases in the 90’s were paid by cash or cheque. But what was it for? On Tuesday 4th, two days before, both Vicky Bird (the nanny) and Lauren (her daughter) saw the £8500. It was still in Penny’s purse.

On the surface, everything seemed normal; there were no nuisance calls, no suspicious packages and no sinister visitors. Penny was stressed, but as a successful-businesswomen, this was far from strange.

On her last night alive, her husband, her children, the nanny and even the builders would state that she looked “lost”, “zoned-out” and “distant”, something was wrong but she wouldn’t say what.
Whatever the problem was, Penny Bell remained silent...

...and yet, her silence would last for the next thirty years.

Thursday 6th June 1991 was a typical morning, as the Bell family went about their usual rituals before another ordinary day, the weather was sunny and bright. As always, Penny was immaculately dressed with perfect make-up, matching earrings, a stylish dress and her short blonde-hair elegantly coiffured.

Her mood was described as "bright and chirpy”. Not once did she appear “rushed or anxious”. And being a caring professional, Penny always had time and energy for everyone... even on that morning.

At 8am, the builders arrived as arranged, and they remained on-site.

At 8:30am, as per usual, still working part-time, Alastair left for work and (as it was on-route) he would drop Matthew off at school. The same thing happened every day, except that day, Penny didn’t wave him goodbye, but with so many builders requiring her time, he put this little lapse down to distraction.

At 8:50am, an electrician asked for Penny’s opinion on the lights, she was polite but made it clear she had a meeting in an hour. At 09:10am, with a set of wooden blocks and a roll of floral wallpaper, Penny showed the builders the colour-scheme for her new kitchen. As before, she was decisive, but calm.

Whoever her meeting was with, and why, she kept it secret and she didn’t write it in her diary.

At 9:40am, Penny left her home in her powder-blue Jaguar XJS Series II; a stylish £34,000 two-door hard-top with cream leather seats, a walnut dash, smooth elegant lines and a powerful V12 engine. Compared to many other cars, it was a real head-turner, the kind you couldn’t help but notice. On the downside - being more of a statement than a family runabout - the boot was tiny, the backseat was useless, the headroom was low, the rear window was barely a slit, and a large console between the passenger and driver’s seats made it a little cramped, unless you were sitting down and facing forward.

Taking her regular route, the A40 would have got to her office just after 10am...

...but instead of driving 17 miles east to Kilburn, she drove 3.5 miles south-west to an isolated wooded layby on the Fulmer Common Road, at the edge of Black Park. One witness out walking her dog spotted Penny’s very recognisable car park-up next to a maroon Vauxhall Cavalier and pick-up a man. He was described as late forties, five foot eight inches tall, with brown hair, a dark suit and a white shirt. He silently got in and the two drove away, leaving his car behind. Two hours later, his car was gone.

Criminal profilers would later state that Penny Bell knew her murderer; but who was this man, what did they discuss, why wasn’t it in her diary, and why did they agree to meet in such a clandestine way?

At 9:55am, the Jaguar drove east along the A40 (Western Avenue) in the rough direction of Kilburn. In an era before traffic cameras, there was no footage to verify this, but Penny’s car was easily spotted by several drivers; with a blonde woman driving, a man beside her and nothing drew their suspicions.

At 10:25am, the Jaguar exited the A40 at the Greenford Roundabout and turned right onto Greenford Road; a busy city street, packed full of shops, flats, cafes and people... but now, something was wrong.

Drivers state that Penny’s Jaguar had slowed to a painful crawl, doing half the legal limit on this 30mph road. With its hazard lights blinking and its windscreen wipers swiping ten-to-the dozen, as it weaved erratically, a tailback of exasperated drivers honked as it clipped the kerb’s corner on Shelley Road.

Thinking she was just a bad driver in a fancy car, no-one called the police and no-one stopped to come to her aid during this chaotic seven-minute drive from the Greenford Roundabout to Gurnell Grove.

One witness reported “she looked like she was trying to park, but the passenger kept correcting her steering”. Given by different witnesses, each description of this man was unnervingly similar; late 40’s, five foot eight, brown curly hair, dark suit, white shirt and a heavy gold-link bracelet on his right wrist.

At 10:30am, having struggled to overtake the Jaguar as it weaved down the Ruislip Road East, drawing a lot of attention and leaving a long queue of frustrated drivers behind, one witness stated that as the Jaguar turned left into the Gurnell Leisure Centre, “the woman looked at me and mouthed ‘help me’”.

This witness didn’t come forward until six months later, after the appeals and the reconstruction. But if their statement was true? Again, they saw a lone woman in distress... but they didn’t call the Police, they didn’t stop to help, and - except for her killer - they were the last person to see Penny alive.

Moments later, surrounded by roughly forty cars, the Jaguar pulled into the quarter-full car park of the Gurnell Leisure Centre. Being parked nearest to the swimming pool, the driver’s side and front was hidden by a five-foot high hedge, the passenger’s side and rear was visible but obscured by the car’s small angled windows, and any noise was muffled by insulation, traffic and children.

It was busy, it was sunny, it was daylight and it was public.

This was a terrible place for a murder...

...and yet, within minutes, Penny Bell would be brutally slaughtered by someone who truly hated her.

A police investigation later stated there were as many as forty witnesses in or near the car-park at the time of the murder, but very few came forward, and those who did didn’t see or hear the attack.

At 10:30am, a woman pushing a pram said “I noticed the wipers on and the hazard lights flashing, I thought it was very odd as it wasn’t raining, but I didn’t look in the car to see. I just kept walking”.

At 10:45am, a second witness saw a smartly-dressed man, identical to Penny’s passenger strolling across the car-park at a casual pace. He wore dark trousers and a white shirt, but no jacket. If this was Penny’s killer, Police said he would have been heavily bloodstained. The witness also remarked that “his face seemed disfigured in some way”. Perhaps by a mole, a birthmark, or maybe it was blood?

At roughly the same time, a third witness saw a car (possibly a dark Sierra) driving aggressively down Ruislip Road East away from the Gurnell, he turned onto Cuckoo Avenue and vanished. One week on, Police had identified all but two of the cars spotted near the scene at the time of the attack; a badly-parked black Peugeot 205, and a large silver estate which was nearest to Penny’s blue Jaguar.

At 11am, two further witnesses saw a woman slumped over the steering wheel of her car and assumed that she was sleeping. At 12:15pm, passing by, they realised she hadn’t moved and called the Police.

Penny Bell had been dead for ninety minutes...

...and by that point, her killer was long-gone.

Detective Superintendent Brian Edwards headed-up the investigation; the car-park was swiftly sealed-off, witnesses were questioned and forensics teams meticulously swept the crime-scene.

The motive wasn’t robbery, as Penny’s Jaguar XJS hadn’t been stolen, her rings hadn’t been removed, the boot and glovebox hadn’t been searched; her purse, phone and Filofax remained in her handbag behind the passenger’s seat, and the £8500 was missing but hadn’t been seen for the last two days.

The motive wasn’t sexual, as Penny hadn’t been violated and all of her clothes remained untouched. This also wasn’t a random attack by a stranger, as Penny clearly had a level of trust with her attacker. He was someone she knew; maybe a business partner, a relative, a friend, or maybe a secret lover?

Covering every possible angle, the Police examined Penny’s diary, phone records and credit-card bills in an to attempt to uncover a secret life; maybe a business rival, a love affair, a debt or a criminal past? But they found nothing. If she was being blackmailed? No-one knows what for, who by, or why.

The last possible sighting of her passenger was at 10:45am, he was not witnessed in any other vehicle, but by 12pm, his Vauxhall Cavalier at Black Park had vanished. That’s an eleven-mile journey which is more than possible to cover in that timeframe by car or taxi, but it’s impossible by public transport.

Comprised by multiple witnesses, a photofit of his face was released to the press, five possible names were mentioned, and one man was arrested and questioned, but he was released without charge.

If Penny’s murder was pre-meditated, her killer’s planning was clumsy at best, almost as if it was one of several options he had considered. As why would he wear a crisp white-shirt if he was going to brutally stab her to death? Why didn’t he murder her somewhere remote like Black Park, rather than a public place like the Gurnell? Why did he cover the centre console and her lap with the unravelled roll of floral wallpaper, instead of bringing something to hide her body and his crime? And why did he leave his fingerprints on the steering-wheel, the window, the seat belt and the door handles?

The motive was clear, this wasn’t a robbery, this was rage.

Penny’s murder was bloody, violent and frenzied. It was crime-of-passion committed by a desperate man she intimately knew, who loved her to obsession, but hated her with a vengeance. As Lauren, her daughter would later state "I think it was someone who wanted her, but couldn't have her."

Of the facts, this is what we know...

The attack had occurred at roughly 10:30am, a few minutes after her Jaguar was seen weaving along Greenford Road and Ruislip Road East, and just moments after her car had parked up. The engine was off, the windows were closed, it was partially isolated, and the hazard lights were on. Their argument was a mystery, as not a single witness had heard a shout, a scream, a cry, or a honk of the horn.

With Penny in the driver’s seat, to her left, her killer pulled from his pocket possibly a workman’s style lock-knife with at least a three-to-four-inch blade, and repeatedly plunged the cold-steel into the left hand-side Penny’s chest, neck and face, in a frenzied and callous attack, on a defenceless woman.

Unarmed and unable to flee, Penny fought like hell, desperate to defend herself from his savage blows, as the blade tore into her raised hands and arms, which snapped every one of her long fingernails in a terrifying fight to stay alive. But still the knife stabbed harder, deeper and quicker, as along the length of the left-hand side of her body, almost every organ, muscle, vein and artery had been severed.

And yet, the killer’s fury at Penny was far from finished.

Being right-handed man in the left-handed seat of a cramped car with the central console blocking his blows - as Penny’s exhausted and bleeding body slumped over the steering-wheel – he wound down her window, exited the car, walked around the back, and – drenched in blood and clutching a dripping knife, in a public space, and in broad daylight - through the driver’s-side window, he repeatedly stabbed the silent and lifeless woman in the back and side, until his energy and his anger were spent.

Inside, her blood spattered across every surface, from the cream leather seats to the dark walnut dash, and pooled in the footwell below her. But from the outside, it looked like any other parked car.

In total, Penny Bell was stabbed more than fifty times...

...that’s one wound for every flash of her hazard lights.

(leave a space for fifty clicks/flashes, depending on sound used, possibly a minute in total; click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. (End)

Penny’s death didn’t just end her life, it destroyed her entire family.

Lauren would later state "from the moment my mother died... everything died”. That night, Alastair had to identify his wife’s body at West London Mortuary, and was so horrified, he vomited. The next day, he broke the news to his children that their mother had been murdered. And being left a broken man, years later, he confessed to Lauren “I can’t do love anymore” and asked her to leave the family.

Her funeral was held on Friday 27th September 1991, at St Mary’s Church in Denham. Beside her grave, among a procession of grieving mourners were the remnants of the Bell family; with Alastair an empty husk, and cradled in their father’s arms, dressed in their school uniforms, were Lauren and Matthew.

Unable to cope, Alastair sunk into a deep depression, he paid for a double-grave so that when he dies, he can be buried with his wife, and - as far as Lauren knows – Penny’s clothes still hang in his wardrobe.

And to add insult to injury, on Lauren’s 10th birthday, burglars broke into their home in Bakers Wood and stole Penny’s jewellery, leaving her children with few keepsakes or reminders of their mother.

Across the investigation, 4000 people were questioned and 8000 interviews were conducted in a case which cost £1.5 million. There were numerous appeals, a high-profile reconstruction on Crimewatch, and two rewards from the Police, as well as Alastair and Penny’s business partner. But with insufficient evidence to identify the culprit, the investigation stalled, and thirty years on, it remains a cold case.

The murderer is still out there, right now, among us; he has never been caught, he has never confessed and someone, somewhere, knows something. If you were there that day, maybe you saw something, which you didn’t think was important, but that little detail could bring peace to a family in turmoil...

... and end the thirty-year silence of Penny Bell.

OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile.

That was the last full episode of Murder Mile in this part of the season, as over the next three weeks, while I’m finishing my research, I have prepared something fun to keep you entertained. As always, if you enjoyed that episode, stay tuned after the break for some cake, a cuppa, some waffle, lots of extra details about this case and you’ll get to discover who the police arrested, and who the family believe is the prime suspect. But before that, here’s a little reminder about CrimeCon 2021. Oooh.

A big thank you to my new Patreon supporters, who are; George Wilkins and Chantelle Gautier, I thank you, and even Eva thanks you, which is a miracle as she’s usually too drunk to talk at this time of the morning. If you’d love to receive lots of exclusive goodies (such as badges, stickers, mugs, photos, videos and even extra podcasts, and support a small independent podcast which brings a little joy to your life, every week, without fail), you can sign-up to Patreon today for as little as $3.

Plus I’d like to say a thank you to Lynn Domsalla for your very kind donation via the Supporter link, I thank you, and Eva also says (drunk sound) which sounds like “kebab” or “vodka shots” but probably means thank you. And, as always, a big thank you to everyone who shares their love of Murder Mile on social media. Your continued audio appreciation of the podcast is very much appreciated.

Murder Mile was researched, written and performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name.

Thank you for listening and sleep well.

*** LEGAL DISCLAIMER
The Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast has been researched using the original declassified police investigation files, court records, press reports and as many authentic sources as possible, which are freely available in the public domain, including eye-witness testimony, confessions, autopsy reports, first-hand accounts and independent investigation, where possible. But these documents are only as accurate as those recounting them and recording them, and are always incomplete or full of opinion rather than fact, therefore mistakes and misrepresentations can be made. As stated at the beginning of each episode (and as is clear by the way it is presented) Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast is a 'dramatisation' of the events and not a documentary, therefore a certain amount of dramatic licence, selective characterisation and story-telling (within logical reason and based on extensive research) has been taken to create a fuller picture. It is not a full and complete representation of the case, the people or the investigation, and therefore should not be taken as such. It is also often (for the sake of clarity, speed and the drama) presented from a single person's perspective, usually (but not exclusively) the victim's, and therefore it will contain a certain level of bias and opinion to get across this single perspective, which may not be the overall opinion of those involved or associated. Murder Mile is just one possible retelling of each case. Murder Mile does not set out to cause any harm or distress to those involved, and those who listen to the podcast or read the transcripts provided should be aware that by accessing anything created by Murder Mile (or any source related to any each) that they may discover some details about a person, an incident or the police investigation itself, that they were unaware of.
*** LEGAL DISCLAIMER

Michael J Buchanan-Dunne is a writer, crime historian, podcaster and tour-guide who runs Murder Mile Walks, a guided tour of Soho’s most notorious murder cases, hailed as “one of the top ten curious, quirky, unusual and different things to do in London”, nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British Podcast Awards", one of The Telegraph's top five true-crime podcasts and featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totaling 50 deaths, over just a one mile walk.

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