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EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT:
On the morning of Sunday 17th September 1972, in Room 11, 68-year-old Emmy Werner was found dead in the bed of Room 11 in the Queen’s Hotel, Bayswater. Having locked her door from the inside – gaining entry - someone had beaten, suffocated and strangled her. It was a cruel and motiveless crime on a defenseless old lady, which remains unsolved to this day. But who had killed her, and why?
SOURCES: This case was researched using some of the sources below.
COURT RECORDS - https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C11039420 COURT RECORDS - https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C11039421 MUSIC:
UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT OF THE EPISODE: Welcome to Murder Mile. (Long pause, street and siren). At roughly 1pm on Sunday 17th September 1972, a chambermaid found the body of 68-year-old Emmy Werner, behind the locked door of Room 11 at the Queen’s Hotel. Having been subjected to six years under Nazi occupation, three years in a concentration camp, a decade in psychiatric care owing to the trauma she had suffered and half a lifetime of mental illness, this little dot of a lady had endured so much and yet she deserved to find peace in her declining years. In a break from the nursing home she disliked, on a quiet side-street in Bayswater, she found a small sliver of sanctuary by staying at a cheap little guesthouse called The Queen’s Hotel. In her own words; the rooms were clean, the staff were nice and she felt safe among the people she saw as friends. Emmy was a frail old lady who was battling dementia… and although some of the staff genuinely cared about her welfare; for others, her frail body, confused brain and deafness made her an easy-target The evidence you are about to hear has never been released, many of the witnesses’ descriptions may include perspective rather than fact, and to protect the innocent the names have been abbreviated. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 178: The Night Porter – Part Three. The Police knew there were several undeniable truths about the man who murdered Emmy Werner. Having entered her locked bedroom without breaking-in, he had prior knowledge of the fault with the balcony door, the acute deafness of his victim and the large sums of cash in her purse. By trade, he was not a professional burglar (as he carried no tools-of-his-trade) but a cocky amateur who had crept into hotel rooms many times before, to steal as his victims slept soundly in their beds… …only this time, the occupant had awoken. It was never believed that his intention was murder; but having been startled awake, seeing his face and (possibly) knowing his name, in a fit of panic he had beaten, strangled and suffocated her. Fleeing, with very little, if anything, his selfishness had resulted in the slow and painful death of an elderly lady. As in all investigations, the Police questioned the staff… in particular, the night porter. Paddy had been the night porter at The Queen’s Hotel for ten weeks. Hailing from Ireland, he had taken over from the previous night porter who was dismissed, although we shall never know why. On the night of Saturday 16th September 1972, Paul the 16-year-old day porter would recall “Paddy was drunk when he arrived. I said to him ‘you’re a bit pissed’. He said ‘I am a lot pissed’. I told him he was too fucking pissed to take over, but he said ‘he couldn’t go to bed because ‘they’ (his cousins Barry & Maureen who were not paying guests) were having a jump around’. Unable to stay in Room 45, as they were shagging, being at a loose end, a sozzled Paddy came to reception and continued to drink. “Paddy said he was starving. I said I’d go to the Wimpy on Queensway. I got him two cheeseburgers, a bag of chips and I went back to the hotel and gave them to him. Except for the sleeping staff and guests, this brief gap left Paddy alone in the hotel in and around the time Emmy that was attacked. Paddy partly paid for his food with a £20 note. Where he got this money from was never determined, although by running a little scam in which he (allegedly) let out rooms to guests off-the-book and kept the cash, that night he gave Paul & Patricia the chambermaid £5 between them to keep them sweet. Being drunk and alone, with a weak alibi and a dubious sum of money, Paddy was a prime suspect. Police investigated his movements that night, but being unable to find anything to connect him to the evidence obtained at the crime scene, Paddy was ruled out. On the balcony, detectives had found a fingerprint, only it was not his. No particles of black bitumen had attached to his clothes or boots. The saliva found on the cigarette’s filter-tip (possibly left by her killer) was from a Group A secreter, but he was Group B. And none of Emmy’s blood, skin or hair were found on his clothes or under his nails. The Police still believed the night porter was her killer, only that night, Paddy was not the night porter… …as having traded shifts as Paddy was drunk, the night porter was Paul. Born in the mid-fifties in Middlesbrough, an industrial town on the north-east coast of England, his father was a hard-working docker in the local shipyards, as his disabled mother raised him at home. Aged three, tragedy struck when on the day after his brother’s birth, his mother died of heart failure. With this small family in chaos as the lynchpin of their unit was gone, Paul and his three siblings were adopted by their grandmother, who raised them as her own in her pre-war terraced council house. Seen as elderly (in his eyes), she gave him the love and stability this young boy needed, and by all who knew him; he was intelligent, alert and articulate, and wasn’t disturbed by the trauma of his past. That year, his father remarried, and although Paul spoke fondly of his grandmother and affectionately of his father, his one later regret was that “I never gave my step-mother a chance”. This wasn’t a wild and angry kid out for revenge, as even he would state “I felt inferior… and wanted to better myself”. Life was going okay; he had gained a place at grammar school and his future looked promising. But in 1969, when he was 14, his grandmother died. She was his everything. Paul would later state “I never had a family, just replacements of a family… they all died, all my life I’ve been getting over it”. Still being only a kid, he moved back in with his father and step-mother but the atmosphere was tense. He lived briefly with his uncle, but being arrested in May 1971 for burglary and theft - escaping with a £5 fine - he personally asked Social Services to put him in a Youth Hostel. As a young lad on the streets with a criminal conviction who had begun experimenting with drugs, his life could have hit the skids… …only he wasn’t seeking self-destruction or revenge, what he wanted was excitement. On 10th January 1972, Paul got a job as a porter and handyman at The Queen’s Hotel; the hours were easy, the pay was okay and with food and board included, the rest he spent on fun. In his spare time, he joined a band (playing guitar and harmonica), he got gigs as a roadie (with his dream to tour with the Rolling Stones), he hitchhiked across the UK in June to July, and in August he returned to the hotel. Like many at the hotel, he was a typical young lad looking for new experiences; he liked music, fashion, drink and sex, and – amidst this like-minded group of kids in an adult’s world – he found a new family. When arrested on the charge of murder, his family found it impossible to comprehend that he could be capable of such violence, being described as “passive with no tendencies towards aggression” … …but for the police, Paul was their prime suspect. By August 1972, when Paul had returned from hiking and was back at the hotel earning a few quid for his next adventure, Emmy had already become a well-liked regular. As a friend of Linda, Paul joined them both for meals, he collected her post and they chatted in the hotel lounge most evenings over a light bedtime snack of cheese, crackers and a cup of tea. It was like having a grandmother once again But was this a new friendship which was blossoming… …or (as the police would suspect) a burglar simply choosing his next victim? On the night of the murder - with Paddy apparently too pissed to do his duty as the night porter - Paul called Osmond (who was sick in his bed) and asked “can I take Paddy’s shift?”. A noble act, and yet; Paddy remained at reception during the night, Paul already had plans to meet his pals (which he would do), and Paul himself was sick with a cold, sneezing and blowing his nose into fistfuls of toilet tissue. The police felt this was unusual, although it had some logic. On previous visits, as an elderly lady who struggled to climb stairs unaided, Emmy had regularly stayed in Room 17, next-door to Osmond. But being almost full that weekend, she was place in Room 11 - a room in which the balcony doors could not be locked unless Paul had held it shut with a 5p piece, and - as the hotel’s handyman - a job which Paul was either scheduled to repair, or deliberately didn’t? Again, the police felt this was unusual, but (given how badly this guesthouse was run) it had logic. When questioned, Paul admitted that he (and other members of staff) would enter hotel rooms via the French windows on the balcony, stating; “yes, a lot of times, guests get locked out and I had to climb up to let them in”. When Detectives asked “have you had to do this for Room 11?”, Paul replied “nearly every room. I know you’re thinking about fingerprints, but mine are all over the place”. Fingerprints were found on the balcony, but none of them were Paul’s. As a dysfunctional hotel run by disinterested kids earning a pittance and a manager with other things on his mind, their complacency had clearly rubbed-off on each other. For Emmy, she saw this cheap little hotel as a safe haven and the staff as her friends, but what she didn’t witness was its darker side… … a dark side which may have got her killed. Among some of the staff, The Queen’s Hotel had a bad attitude which was encouraged. With this being more of a job than a career; many bunked off work, turned up drunk and let mates stay over for free. Ziggy & Garnot, two German pals of Paul’s admitted “we were sitting in the TV room, the phone rang once, then stopped. That was a pre-arranged signal from Paul that the manager was coming. We ran out and waited till Paul said it was safe”. Admittedly, his actions were no worse than any other petty-minded teenager pushing the boundaries. But was he protecting his friends, or (as the police would suspect) was this a way to ensure that the hotel was clear of guests? Being sick in bed, Osmond stated he never left his room all night, which means between 11:30pm and 2am, Paul was mostly alone. That said, many of the staff engaged in little side-lines which were not only wrong, but illegal. According to Rosemary, the chambermaid who Cathy replaced “after a few days, everyone was sitting at the table and openly talking about what they were doing at the hotel in a way as a fiddle…”. It was said that the scams began at the top. “Osmond the manager always had things in his room, like teddy bears, watches, cameras, jewellery, everything”. It was a like an Aladdin’s cave of stolen goods. Staff routinely stole from guest’s suitcases (which is how they knew that Mr James owned a bondage whip), and as is a habit in some hotels – when guests were rude – their toothbrush was inserted anally. The hotel did a roaring trade in illicit drugs, whatever you wanted, they could get; cannabis, speed and LSD, partially bought from Tappy, a mate of Osmond who claimed he was a roadie. Which was one of the reasons the police had so few witnesses to the murder, as some of the staff were drunk or high. Another possible reason was that the hotel sold sex. According to Amy “Paul slept with the prostitutes, as well as Linda and Patricia”, and as stated by Rosemary “Osmond had Cindy the chambermaid sacked because she had been one of his prostitutes for the guests, and he refused to give her a bigger cut”. But the main scam among the staff were the thefts. Several staff attested that Paul – the 16-year-old with a conviction for burglary – often bragged about his unblemished record when it came to theft. “He boasted about getting into guests’ bedrooms and stealing things while they were asleep”, asked why they never saw him, he said ‘he was too clever’“. To ensure the guest’s personal possessions were safe, according to the Gunhilde the housekeeper, “there should only have been three master keys which opened every door; one for the manager, one for myself and one kept at reception… but everybody had a master key, Osmond had a bunch of them”. Besides, Paul knew how to creep about undetected. When asked why no-one heard him stealing from rooms “he said it was because of his plimsolls. He used to sneak up, so quiet, behind you and put his hands on your shoulders… he was really creepy. I asked him if he had any close calls and he said ‘never’. But like everyone who is young, cocky and inexperienced… …sometimes luck can bite you back. According to Rosemary “he got a kick out of it. I saw him with cameras, jewellery, etc, he always had rolls of money and spent a lot. Paul told me he knew which guests had money and which would wake up… he said he mostly went into women’s rooms because they left their jewellery out at night”. And to ensure they wouldn’t awake as he crept about, he would pick the easiest of targets… …like frail old ladies who were deaf and suffered with dementia. But it was the sadism inflicted on Emmy which led the police to their prime suspect. If a burglar had been disturbed, he was most likely to flee or batter his victim to silence them. Whereas Emmy was gagged, suffocated and strangled in a slow painful torture which would have taken minutes to die. He seemed such a passive young boy, but to those who knew him, Paul also had a sinister side. Mowan, a former receptionist said “he was obsessed, he talked all the time of how he would strangle people. He told me one day about how he had strangled one of the chambermaids with her own hair”. Only, he wasn’t a man who was “all mouth, no trousers”, kinky sex was what he liked. Diana, also a former receptionist at The Queen’s Hotel told the police of an incident which occurred just three days before Emmy’s murder: “I went to my bed in Room 43 at about 1am. I woke up when Paul came into my room. The door lock didn’t work. He sat on the bed, lit a cigarette and said he felt like doing something naughty. I was tired and uninterested. He said “I think I’ll tie you up”. He took the bootlaces from his boots, he tied my wrists and ankles, he placed a towel over my head in the form of a hood. It almost smothered me… I could not remove it was because my hands were tied and he was sitting astride me” – a method of strangulation not too dissimilar to how Emmy would die. Of course, Paul was never charged with any of these offenses… …which begs the question, was any of it true? On Thursday 14th September 1972 at roughly 10:30pm, Emmy entered the Queen’s Hotel. As a regular, she was dressed in a brown cardigan (later used to bind her wrists) and a woolly mohair scarf (used to gag her screams and shut-off her breath). In her hand she carried a bag filled with items of little value to anyone but her; some clothes, some tissues, a box of TUC crackers and a bottle of jasmine perfume. The Queen’s Hotel was where Emmy felt safe, among a staff of kids she saw as friends. Greeted by Angela the receptionist, Paul, the young day-porter telephoned Linda in her room to tell her “Mrs W’s here”, as Emmy had promised to take her to the theatre. And although blighted by a cold and blowing his nose into fistfuls of toilet tissue, Paul assisted Emmy and her bag to Room 11. Emmy was liked… but it’s possible she had already been marked as an easy target. Osmond admitted he didn’t like her: “she was a little bit senile and I thought she was rather pathetic. I got the impression that she had money”. But what he liked was that she always paid her bill in cash. Emmy was not wealthy, but like many pensioners with money worries, she trusted notes over banks. Back in August, Amy a former chambermaid recalled “an old woman was staying in Room 17, she had a German accent. She had a lot of money but she looked very poor. Whilst she was showing me some photographs, she took her purse out which had loads of money in it… afterwards Paul remarked ‘I wouldn’t mind a bit of that’… one time I found her purse while cleaning the TV room, I handed it back to her and Paul said I was stupid. He asked ‘did she have a lot?”, I said ‘it was full, I couldn’t close it’. The next day, as Emmy came down to breakfast, the staff remarked that she didn’t look well. She said she hadn’t slept a wink as she thought “someone was trying to get into her room”. That night, “she slept in all of her clothes and had put a table against the door”. As a confused old lady who was prone to losing things, although she thought she’d had some money stolen, this was dismissed as senility. In her eyes, why would the staff steal from her? They were her friends. But were they? Amy would also state: “Paul was always taking the Micky”, and as a vulnerable lady whose traumatic life and mental illness often caused her to repeat what others had said, “he mocked her, saying she was like a parrot”. But most of all, “he always watched her, especially when she opened her purse”. That night, as Emmy checked-in to The Queen’s Hotel, she wasn’t placed in her usual room, Room 17. But Room 11, a small first-floor bedroom with a balcony and a set of French doors which didn’t lock. This could have been a coincidence, or it could have been deliberate? At 9pm, on Saturday 17th September, Emmy & Linda returned from the theatre, they chatted in the lounge with Paul & Patricia, and at 11:05pm, Linda escorted her to Room 11 and went to bed herself. Most of the guests and staff were asleep, Paddy was drunk, Ziggy & Garnot were awaiting Paul’s call, Barry & Maureen were shagging and there would be next-to-no witnesses to Paul’s alibi or the murder, as that night, in his basement room; Patricia, Ziggy, Garnot and Paul would each drop a tab of LSD. With no eye-witnesses, the Police could only go on the evidence found at the crime-scene. By his own history, 16-year-old Paul had one conviction for burglary, he was frequently seen with stolen goods and he boasted of creeping into guests’ bedrooms as they slept to steal their belongings. As a porter, he could access master keys. As a handyman, it was his job to undertake repairs. And as staff, he knew Emmy was in a room with a broken lock, on a night that the hotel was unbearably hot. That night, the man who entered Emmy’s room as she slept got away with very little, if at all. Possibly a few pounds, but missing was a bottle of jasmine perfume, similar to one later found in Paul’s room. The day after her murder, the Police doctor examined Paul and found several bruises, a day to two old; upon his arms, wrists and fists which he could not explain – but we know that Emmy fought back. Upon the floor, a cigarette’s filter-tip was retrieved and examined; the brand was John Player Special (the type Paul smoked), and the saliva was from a Group A (HP 2-1) secretor – the same as Paul’s. But none of this was cold hard fact, as every piece of evidence also had a logic and a reason. Paul would admit that his fingerprints would be found in the room, but they weren’t. Not a single print of his was; so, either they had been wiped away, or as a porter who wore gloves, he left none? With only one entry point, the Police knew Emmy’s killer had walked particles of black bitumen (used to waterproof the balcony) across the carpet, to the bed, to the wardrobe and inside of her bedsheet as he had straddled her during her beating and strangulation. But retrieved a few days later – although he was on her balcony as the fire engines went past - no particles were found on his clothes or shoes. When examined, none of Emmy’s skin, blood, saliva or fibres was found on Paul. And as a boy with a cold who repeatedly sniffled and sneezed that night, although fistfuls of identical toilet tissue - which her killer had stuffed down Emmy’s throat to suffocate her - was found in his room and in his pockets, it was a standard white toilet paper, kept in the hotel storeroom and used by every guest or staff in every room. And besides, Paul wasn’t the only staff member with a cold that day, as so was Osmond. That aside, for Emmy’s murder, the Police felt they had enough evidence to convict… (End) …only they didn’t. From the 5th to the 12th February 1973, Paul was tried at The Old Bailey on the charges of robbery and murder. Standing before Mr Justice Eveleigh, and defended by Mr Mayhew QC, he pleaded not guilty. Across the five-day trial, witnesses included family, friends, staff, pathologists, forensic scientists, a psychiatrist to determine Paul’s state of mind and medical experts as to the effects of LSD on memory. Throughout Paul held firm of his innocence, and said that if released, his father had agreed to take him back, and given his age, they asked that he be placed under a care order, rather than in a prison. But it was all academic. With no witnesses and no fingerprints, his movements vague and her time of death sketchy, with the cigarette tip not proven to be his and the perfume not proven to be Emmy’s, and – more importantly – not a single person having seen him enter Room 11? With the evidence determined to be purely circumstantial, on the 12th February 1973, Paul the day porter was acquitted. Through the hardships of her life, Emmy had struggled and survived through unimaginable horror. Like many, physically she had survived the holocaust, but mentally she was scarred till the day she died. As an old vulnerable lady, she believed she had found sanctuary and friendship in a little guesthouse in Bayswater… only to be preyed on by the epitome of selfish evil, for a few pounds she didn’t have. This year marks the 50th Anniversary of the murder of Emmy Werner and the case remains unsolved. ** 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. 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” and nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British Podcast Awards".
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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.  The Vaudeville Theatre where Emmy attended a farce 'Move Over Mrs Markham' a few hours before her murder 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.
EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN: On the afternoon of Saturday 16th September 1972, 68-year-old holocaust survivor Emmy Werner went to The Vaudeville Theatre to watch the farce Move Over Mrs Markham with a care assistant from her nursing home and a receptionist from her hotel. It was an ordinary and unremarkable day. The next morning, this vulnerable lady who suffered with dementia was found dead in her bed, having been subjected to a horrific attack, in which she was beaten, suffocated and strangled. But why?
SOURCES: This case was researched using some of the sources below.
COURT RECORDS - https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C11039420 COURT RECORDS - https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C11039421 MUSIC:
UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT OF THE EPISODE: Welcome to Murder Mile. Today, I’m standing by the Vaudeville Theatre on The Strand, WC2; one street east of the last seconds of Desmond O’Bierne’s life, one street north of the fall of Peggy Richards, a few steps from the Coal Hole, and three streets west of the deafening rage of Bernard Smith – coming soon to Murder Mile. Theatre. Love it or hate it. For many, it’s a chance to chin-stroke through some Shakespearian dirge, to hum to tenuously-linked pop hits cobbled-together by an 80’s boyband with six divorces to pay for, or for audiences to show how badly behaved they can be; by coughing every six seconds, not turning their phone off (as – bafflingly – they didn’t realise that paying a 14-year-old £10 wouldn’t get them a top-notch babysitter), or – as I’ve witnessed myself – a patron cutting their toenails off the balcony. But for so many people, it’s a much-needed night out and a chance to do something different. On the afternoon of Saturday 16th September 1972, 68-year-old holocaust survivor Emmy Werner went to The Vaudeville Theatre to watch the farce Move Over Mrs Markham with a care assistant from her nursing home and a receptionist from her hotel. It was an ordinary and unremarkable day. The next morning, this vulnerable lady who suffered with dementia was found dead in her bed, having been subjected to a horrific attack, in which she was beaten, suffocated and strangled. But why? The evidence you are about to hear has never been released, and the names have been abbreviated. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 177: The Night Porter – Part Two. Nothing in the preceding days would hint at the fate which would befall Emmy Werner… …as even when you pick apart the strangest moments in her day, everything had a reason and logic. On Thursday 14th September 1972 at about 10:30pm, Emmy entered the Queen’s Hotel. Having stayed there three times since May, the staff liked this frail little dot of a lady. Often confused, struggling to walk unaided and slightly deaf – as a hotel staffed by young people far from home – they looked after her as they would their own, and some had even become her friend. (Phone ringing) “Mrs W’s here”. Dressed in a tatty brown cardigan, an old skirt and a mohair scarf, she didn’t exude a woman of wealth. In her bag she carried some spare clothes, tissues, crackers and a bottle of perfume, and although a few items and a little cash had gone missing in the recent months, this was put down to senility. On previous visits, Emmy had stayed in Room 17, a first-floor room next to Osmond, the manager. But being occupied, they put her in Room 11; between regular guest Mr James in Room 12 and the newly-weds, Mr & Mrs Gibbs in Room 10. All rooms were small, clean and secured by a double locked door. The only excitement that night was from a possible false alarm, as at 10:40pm, Emmy & Paul, the 16-year-old day porter stood on her balcony and watched the fire engines race to 42 Inverness Terrace. Still struggling with a cold, as he blew his nose, he kept his distance for fear of passing on his germs. One problem with the room was that the balcony doors would not lock. Placed on a long-list of repairs that the manager was yet to complete, Paul temporarily fixed the lock by wedging it with a 5p piece. That night, Emmy had a good sleep, she awoke early, she ate her breakfast in the hotel’s lounge and she went to Paddington to visit her sister Anna, as planned. Witnesses verify this. At 10:30pm, she returned to the Queen’s hotel, chatted with Linda & Paul, and at 11pm, he escorted her to her room. As always, Emmy double-locked the door behind her, undressed and enjoyed an undisturbed sleep. Saturday 17th September 1972 was the day of Emmy’s trip to the theatre. Escorted by Giovanna, a care assistant from Emmy’s nursing home, and Linda, a receptionist from the hotel, the family were happy to pay for extra tickets if it meant Emmy would be accompanied by someone they knew and trusted. At 4:20pm, Emmy & Linda left the hotel by taxi and met Giovanna at the Vaudeville Theatre on The Strand, as paid for by Emmy who had begun her four-day stay with roughly £100 in her purse. With the matinee show finishing at 7:30pm, and Giovanna having left, Emmy & Linda headed to a pub; Linda had rum and coke, Emmy a martini and soda, they ate sausage sandwiches, and left at 8:20pm – as witnessed by the customers. At 9pm, they arrived at The Queen’s Hotel, as confirmed by the taxi-driver. And for the next two hours, Emmy sat in the lounge chatting with Linda the receptionist, Paul the day porter and Patricia the chambermaid over a snack of bread, cheese, crisps and a cup of tea. Emmy was on good form that night, but the staff said that two issues were plaguing her mind; that she had a sizable sum of money in her bank account that her daughter and son-in-law wouldn’t allow her to have access to (an issue which many elderly persons and their families worry about), and her dislike of Edgar Coldwell, the proprietor of the care-home who was “always shouting, always angry”. According to Paul, “we talked until 11:05pm and that was the last time I saw her”. With Paddy the night porter running late for his shift, Linda assisted Emmy to Room 11. She would state “I unlocked her door, giving her the key. She remarked that the room felt hot, so I opened the balcony doors”. The 5p piece played by Paul to keep the doors locked was later found on the dresser where it was placed. It was odd for Emmy to sleep with the balcony doors open, but that night the room was unusually hot. As Linda was leaving, with Emmy undressing, Linda took the mohair scarf and hung it on a hook behind the door and placed her brown cardigan in the wardrobe. With her handbag and purse beside the bed, Emmy thanked Linda and wished her a good night. Emmy double-locked the door behind her, leaving the key in the lock, and - dressed in a chequered nightshirt with a white nightgown - she went to sleep. It was a day as mundane as any other… …and then she was murdered. The investigation was headed-up by Detective Chief Inspector John Candlish. Being a premises with a high turnover of staff and guests, he had his work cut-out trying to find out who was where and when. Cathy, the chambermaid began her shift at 6:30am. With check-out at 11am and check-in at 2pm, the turnaround was tight but doable. That morning, with Mr James in Room 12 and Mr & Mrs Gibb, the newly-weds in Room 10 having checked-out, Cathy had cleaned their rooms but was yet to do Emmy’s. With the door locked and the key on the inside, Cathy didn’t suspect foul play, only that this frail and vulnerable old lady had either overslept, missing her alarm owing to her deafness, or that she was out. She knocked “Mrs W?” but got reply. Using the phone in Room 12, Cathy got Angela the receptionist to call Room 11, but again, she got no reply. From the first-floor balcony of Room 12, which overlooked Inverness Terrace, Cathy could see that one of the balcony doors was slightly ajar (as it had been left the night before), so she climbed over the black wrought iron railings, and entered Room 11. Initially, Cathy saw no-one; “the bed looked untidy as all the blankets were filed up, and I didn’t think anyone was lying in it” - especially not Emmy who was just a dot, at barely five foot and seven stone. Believing the room had been vacated, Cathy unlocked the door to fetch her trolley of fresh linen. A lock-smith would verify there was no evidence of a break-in and none of the locks had been forced. When questioned, Cathy recalled that the wardrobe was open, the door hook was unused and Emmy’s handbag was unzipped and left open. Although it was impossible to tell whether anything was missing. For Cathy, at that moment, all she had on her mind was getting Room 11 cleaned while Mrs W was out; she didn’t see a body and there were no signs of an assault or a break-in. Emmy had left her bags beside the bed, but as a confused old lady prone to misplacing items, this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Cathy would state “I went to make the bed, and as I pulled back the bedspread…” she saw Emmy. Not asleep nor slowly rousing, but unmistakably dead; her mouth agape, her eyes wide, etched in terror. Cathy was 22-years-old and had been in the job for just six weeks. Rightly startled, she fled downstairs, alerting Osmond the manager who phoned an ambulance, and Bob the hotel’s chef of just two weeks. Called at 1:10pm, an ambulance arrived six minutes later… …but finding no pulse, Emmy’s body was left in situ. For DCI Candlish, it was clear that this was not a natural death nor a suicide, but a murder. Emmy had been targeted by a perpetrator who had purposely gained entry to Room 11 with one specific motive. Entry to Room 11 would not have been easy from the street, as being a first-floor room with no place to position a ladder, no hand-holds and with the French doors shielded by a set of anti-burglar spikes, the most obvious entry or exit was the balcony, whether via Inverness Terrace or another hotel room. No fingerprints were found suggesting the culprit had worn gloves, but fragments of bitumen – a semi-solid black paint made of asphalt, used to waterproof the balcony – had been walked into the room. Particles were found by the dressing table, the wardrobe and on the bottom sheet of Emmy’s bed. It was impossible to determine the shoe size owing to the high-traffic in the room, as several people - Cathy, Bob, Oswald, two ambulance drivers and a doctor – had been inside before the police arrived. Robbery was a possibility but unlikely; as Emmy was not wealthy, she didn’t wear jewellery, her possessions weren’t of any real value, and of the £100 it was suggested that she may have carried to cover her costs, only £15 remained in her purse, although no-one knew how much she had spent. Examining the room, the police saw a clear timeline of her final moments; a locked door, a half-drunk cup of tea and a few crumbs from her bedtime snack of cheese and crackers, she had set her alarm clock, undressed placing her skirt and jacket on a chair and her coat in the wardrobe. As there were no signs of a struggle in the room, it was suggested she had been attacked in her bed, as she slept. Upon inspection, her brown cardigan and mohair scarf were no longer where Linda had left them the night before. But why? Who would take this tatty set of an old lady’s clothes… …and for what purpose? Her murder lacked an obvious motive. She wasn’t the kind of woman who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, or a bad word to say about anyone. She didn’t make enemies and she didn’t have any debts. So, who would want her dead? A friend, a family member, a stranger, or someone from her past? Emmy was just a frail elderly lady, living a simple life, with few friends, money or possessions. But it’s clear that she was chosen, by someone who had entered her room and no other, ignoring the other fifty-nine rooms at the Queen’s Hotel, or any other guest-houses and flats along Inverness Terrace. To establish what had happened, the police needed to find witnesses, starting with the guests. The Queen’s Hotel was a guesthouse consisting of four townhouses knocked through; with a reception and TV lounge on the ground floor, bedrooms for the guests and the manager on the first, second and third floors, and in the basement was a kitchen, a storeroom and several bedrooms for the staff. The hotel was busy that weekend, and to identify all of the guests would prove problematic. As with many guesthouses in the 1970s, the booking system was haphazard. If you wanted a room; you telephoned in advance, sent a letter or walked up off the street, upon entry you signed the guest book with a name and an address (in a handwriting which was often illegible), you were not required to provide any ID (in fact, with lone men and unmarried couples, it was common to use false details to disguise their identity in case of they were embroiled in a scandal) and many guests paid by cash. Of the rooms reserved for guests, police were able to question most of the customers who consisted of tourists from across the world. The majority were asleep at the time of the murder, no-one heard any screams or saw any strangers, and – by all accounts – it was a very ordinary night in a hot hotel. Several guests had checked-out that morning, and owing (possibly) to mistakes in the booking system, the police struggled to identify or question them. Three of them were key witnesses to the success of the investigation; a man known only as Mr James in Room 12, and the newly-weds, Mr & Mrs Gibbs in Room 10. Three people whose rooms were the nearest to where Emmy was murdered. This could be seen as suspicious, but The Queen’s Hotel was – at best - a slap-dash guesthouse, run by a manager with other things on his mind, and mostly staffed by a bunch of kids who had only been in the job for a few weeks. Standards were low to non-existent, the turnover was high (with the former night porter having been recently dismissed), and - being young and immature – many of the staff took liberties with their new freedom; by turning up late, stealing, or letting friends stay over for free. Several non-paying guests stayed over that night; two German brothers called Ziggy and Garnot, and Barry & Maureen, a cousin of Paddy the night porter and her husband who were partying in his room. Of those questioned, they saw and heard nothing strange, but then again, many of them were drunk and were nowhere near the scene of the crime in the hours before, during or after the murder. To get a better picture of the hotel, police interviewed staff from past and present; including Gunhilde the housekeeper who was away that weekend, Bob the chef who was asleep during those crucial hours, Osmond the manager who was sick in bed with a cold from 5pm until 1pm the next day, and Rosemary the chambermaid of just three weeks who Cathy (who found the body) had taken over from. Statements would be obtained, but as the staff had formed little cliques - as for some this was a career, but for others, it was just a giggle - this made it harder for the police to know whose word to trust… …as we shall see. Detectives also interviewed the last staff to see Emmy alive that night, as their sightings were crucial. Patricia, a chambermaid who had been at the hotel for seven weeks would state “I started work at 7am till 3pm (on the day of the murder). When I came off work, I didn’t do much, I had no plans… later I planned to see some friends (Paul the day porter, and Ziggy & Garnot the German brothers), I popped out about 10:30pm to meet a friend at a pub, and I arrived back about 10:45pm or a bit later. I talked to Paul & Linda and I think Mrs Werner was there too in the hotel lounge”. Movements which were back-up by the other staff, and during which she didn’t see or hear anything unusual. Paul the 16-year-old day porter would clarify he had been chatting with Linda, Patricia and Emmy in the lounge over cheese and crackers. “It was the beginning of August when Mrs Werner came to the hotel. It was whilst there that I first had anything to do with her. She had left a box of tissues in one of the shops in Queensway, Linda asked me to go round and find them. Linda and I have been friendly with Mrs Werner ever since”. That night, Paul was due to finish his shift at 11pm, but had stayed later as Paddy the night porter had failed to turn up for his shift, having been drinking with his cousin. According to Paul, Linda walked Emmy to her room at 11:05pm, and “that was the last time I saw her”. Linda, as one of the longest-serving staff, was the receptionist at The Queen’s hotel for 14 months. Since Emmy’s first visit in May, the two had become close friends and someone Emmy could trust. So, it was not unusual for them to dine out together, to go to the theatre, or (as Linda would state) “Mrs Werner asked me to meet with her daughter to discuss her money. She had a sizable amount in her bank which they would not allow her to access. It was my day-off, but I agreed”. Linda would escort Emmy to her room, and living in Room 51 on the second floor, she went to bed shortly afterwards. Both Paul & Linda would meet Emmy socially. Paul would state “I was under the impression that she was a very lonely woman and was anxious to make friends”. On several occasions they had dinner with her at the care home on Fenstanton Avenue in Finchley, when she needed it Paul would collect her post, and while there he understood why she preferred staying at the hotel; “Mr Coldwell was always angry. He shouted the whole time and looked pretty fearsome. Mrs Werner said she was frightened of him because he was always shouting and she was afraid that he would tell her daughter”. When questioned, neither Linda nor Paul saw or heard anything suspicious… …but there were still guests and staff who were yet to be interviewed. Despite repeated appeals, with the last being three years ago, Mr & Mrs Gibbs were never found. It’s likely they were unmarried and their names were false to disguise the shame of a clandestine affair. An initial suspect was a regular known only as Mr James, who stayed in Room 12, next door to Emmy’s. Being on shift, Paul saw him enter the hotel at 9:20pm. Being a foot taller and several stone heavier than Emmy; he was unfriendly, unnervingly quiet, he often brought prostitutes back to his room and – three weeks before the murder - Patricia the chambermaid spotted in his suitcase a bondage whip. Given Emmy’s injuries, any sexual sadist in the vicinity was suspected… …but having been interviewed, Mr James provided a concrete alibi and was ruled out. This left just one unaccounted person, staying in the hotel that night who was yet to be questioned… …Paddy the night porter. With no witnesses to the murder, the police had to rely on the evidence before them. Whoever had murdered Emmy Werner had wanted her body hidden for as long as possible; with the lights off, the curtains closed, the door locked, the bedsheets pulled up and a pillow placed over her face. But was this to affect a faster escape, or simply to hid the horror of what they had done to her? The evidence suggests that her murder was not premeditated, as her killer had only used items which came to hand within the confines of Room 11; there were no ropes, knives nor weapons of any kind. So, why was this person there, in a locked room, alone with an old sleeping lady? Her autopsy would give the detectives a rough timeline of the attack. Owing to the inconsistent temperature of her room - as the radiators were unbearably hot and the balcony doors were left open - her time of death was placed at sometime between midnight and 3am. With her fingernails unbroken and no defensive bruises, it was clear that Emmy was attacked while she slept in her bed. It was likely her killer had no intention of waking her, as his entry was stealthy. Possibly, hearing a sound – maybe a floorboard creak – she stirred, begun to scream and was silenced with a hand across her mouth. But by then, it was too late, as his face had already been seen. Perhaps in panic, he had straddled her; rucking up her nightdress, leaving a particle of bitumen on the bedsheet and crushing her chest with his weight, resulting in fractures to both her right and left ribs. With bruising to her left chin and cheek, unable to silence her, he had punched this frightened old lady hard in the face. To someone less frail, a fast fist may not have been so violent, but having undergone a lobotomy, the impact had cracked her skull open, fracturing the two bore holes until they met. Hemorrhaging, Emmy bled into her pillow; trapped, silenced and terrified. In her harrowing life, she had endured more pain and suffering than most people could imagine, only now her death wouldn’t be at the hands of the Nazis, but (possibly) a man who until a few months ago she had barely known. As a small woman of unquestionable strength, we know she fought back, but his attack was sustained. Around her throat, he had manually strangled her until she drifted into a semi-consciousness. His hand had left bruises as he crushed her larynx, fractured her hyoid bone and caused her tongue to swell. Seizing his moment to silence her and to make his escape; from the sink he grabbed a towel and tightly bound her feet together so she could neither run nor move, and from the wardrobe he snatched her tatty brown cardigan and around her wrists he tied her hands in front of her. She was still, but maybe – coming to – she was not silent. And beginning to scream, that could be why he did what he did next. With fistfuls of hotel toilet-roll, he forced the wadded paper into her throat, stuffing it so deep that she began to choke. Grabbing her mohair scarf off the door hook, he gagged her tight so she couldn’t spit it out, and knowing that Mrs Werner - a woman who had survived so much, but was about to die for so little – could (possibly) identify him, he suffocated her with her blood-soaked pillow. (End) Lying dead, her face etched in terror for an eternity, Emmy’s assailant covered her with the bedsheets, and just as he had crept in via the open doors of the balcony, from there he would vanish. His motive was neither murder, hatred nor sexual assault. It was as simple as this – a burglary. Having targeted this 68-year-old woman for what he believed was £100 (£1500 today), he left with literally nothing. All she had was a few pounds, some old clothes, a box of crackers and a bottle of Jasmine perfume. Unsure who he was, and with no fingerprints found (as it’s likely he wore gloves), the police felt they had enough evidence to convict their most likely suspect, even without an eye-witness. The man who murdered Emmy Werner would have fibres from her bedsheets and scarf on his clothes, particles of black bitumen from her balcony and bedsheet on his shoes, and – having smoked a cigarette (perhaps before he fled) – he had left the filter-tip of a John Player Special, along with his Group A saliva. The detectives had a prime suspect since the first day of the investigation; as an employee of the hotel, he had knowledge of the rooms, the doors and the locks; he often bragged of stealing from guests, he knew how to enter guest’s rooms undetected, and he had seen a stack of notes inside Emmy’s purse. The night porter would be questioned and investigated... only the man they arrested was not Paddy. The concluding part of The Night Porter continues next week. ** 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. 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” and nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British Podcast Awards".
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EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SIX:
On the morning of Sunday 17th September 1972, in Room 11, 68-year-old Emmy Werner was found dead in the bed of Room 11 in the Queen’s Hotel, Bayswater. Having locked her door from the inside – gaining entry - someone had beaten, suffocated and strangled her. It was a cruel and motiveless crime on a defenseless old lady, which remains unsolved to this day. But who had killed her, and why?
THE LOCATION
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The location is marked with a teal raindrop above Hyde Park by the words 'The Long Water'. To use the map, click it. If you want to see the other murder maps, access them by clicking here.
SOURCES: This case was researched using some of the sources below. COURT RECORDS - https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C11039420 COURT RECORDS - https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C11039421 MUSIC:
UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT OF THE EPISODE: Welcome to Murder Mile. Today, I’m standing on Inverness Terrace in Bayswater, W2; two streets west of the three possible murders of Vincent Keighrey, a few doors north of the stabbing of US Airman Stanley Thurman and two streets west of the sadistic sex-pest known as The Bearded Man - coming soon to Murder Mile. Inverness Terrace is a quiet little side-street between Hyde Park, Paddington and Notting Hill. Dotted with cheap little B&Bs for tourists, many guests dismiss the damp walls, sticky sheets and deluxe views of the bins outback, feeling they’ve got value-for-money if it includes a complimentary sliver of soap, two teabags, a stale biscuit and a splat of shampoo - enough to scrub three hairs or a half a nipple. And yet, freebies aside, we all flippantly take our safety in a strange room as if it is a given. In 1972, at 86-90 Inverness Terrace once stood the Queen’s Hotel; a row of five-storey townhouses knocked through to create a sixty-roomed guest-house, with accommodation for residents and staff. A regular customer was 68-year-old Emmy Werner; a harmless little dot of a lady, who suffered with dementia owing to the horrors of her past. But having found a place to stay as well as much-needed company among the youthful and friendly staff, here she felt safe… or at least, she should have been. On the morning of Sunday 17th September 1972, in Room 11, Emmy was found dead in her bed. Having locked her door from the inside – gaining entry - someone had beaten, suffocated and strangled her. It was a cruel and motiveless crime on a defenseless old lady, which remains unsolved to this day. And yet, the evidence you are about to hear has never been released. To protect the innocent, the names have been abbreviated. For Emmy’s family, I hope this helps bring some conclusion to the case. And for you – dear listener – I pray that this tawdry tale doesn’t put you off staying into a hotel forever. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 176: The Night Porter – Part One. It’s impossible to comprehend the tragedy that Emmy Werner had suffered and survived in her life, only to end up dead in the bed of a Bayswater hotel. But who would want to wish her harm, and why? Emmy was born on the 3rd January 1904 in Brno, the second largest city in Czechoslovakia after Prague. Raised as the first of two daughters in a middle-class Jewish family, to Helene, a housewife & Dr Emil, a lawyer, she was educated until the age of 18, and became a secretary at her father’s legal practice. Neighboured by Germany, Austria, Poland and Hungary, Czechoslovakia was forged from the ashes of the First World War. Being a predominantly German-speaking city where Jews made up only 4% of its people, the city’s boundary was redrawn to dilute the stranglehold that its German nationals held. From the armistice onwards, the Czech city of Brno was seen as a safe-haven for Jews… …as for its people, the horrors of war were now a figment of the past. For Emmy, her early life was good. Being barely a little dot, at just seven stone in weight and four foot eleven inches in height, what she lacked in size she more than gained in intelligence and confidence. With a neatness which typified her nature, a compassion which burst from her smile and a walk fuelled by an inner strength, she was a woman who could take on the world if she had to - and she would. In 1925, 21-year-old Emmy married a prosperous dentist called Albert Werner, three years later their only child – a daughter called Hedy – was born, and they lived in a flat in Brno, staffed by two servants. This was their home, their lives, their everything… …but soon, it would be taken. With Hitler coming to power in 1933, the Nazis implemented the persecution and segregation of the Jews in stages, beginning with state-sponsored racism, anti-Jewish legislation, boycotts and violence. Following the annexation of Austria and the incorporation of the Czechoslovakian border known as the Sudetenland into Germany, with the rest of country weak and defenceless, on 15th March 1939 the German Army marched into Prague, and – like many Czech cities and towns - Brno soon followed. Five months before the German invasion of Poland and Neville Chamberlain’s reluctant declaration of war, the Nazis took control of the city. With the calm of an icy wind and the ease of summer breeze, more than 100,000 troops, trucks and tanks crawled into the city streets, like a parade of peace. No shots were fired and no shouts were heard, as the citizens of Brno stood in a mix of awe and terror. Every citizen saw this ‘occupation’ through different eyes; for the German nationals they saluted with jubilation and waved their swastikas high; for the Czechs, many sobbed as with the first war still fresh in their memories, a second war was too unthinkable; and as for the city’s Jews – for some of whom this was their home and others having fled Nazi Germany – their uncertain future was to be feared. Like thousands of others - unable to leave the country without a visa - Emmy, Albert & Hedy Werner were unable to flee their home city of Brno, and there they would remain for the next three years. With laws written to persecute them for their religion, life was hard for Emmy and her family. In a city already gripped by blackouts and rationing, any non-Aryans were forced to stitch a yellow star upon their clothes, identifying them as a people to be persecuted. This was their home, and yet, they were denied the most basic of services; education, employment and medicine; access to shops, parks and public baths; they couldn’t travel, trade, pray, or even sit on selected benches on public streets. Whereas once Brno was a place for families; the children who played hopscotch in the streets now marched as part of the Hitler Youth, neighbour ratted-out neighbour simply to survive, people were sent to prison for expressing opposing views, some vanished into Gestapo HQs never to return and any dissenters were executed in the streets – with the relatives forced to cover the cost of their death. Subjected to abuse, assaults and their possessions confiscated without recourse, for many like Emmy and her family, their lives were little more than a prison, of which their sentence was indefinite. They endured three years of isolation and terror, which did untold damage to their minds… …and yet, no-one foresaw the apocalyptic horror which was yet to come. On 11th July 1941 - codenamed Operation Reinhard - Adolf Hitler implemented the systematic murder of the Jews by initially establishing three killing centres at Belzec, Sobibor and Treblinka in Poland, inflicting slaughter on an industrial scale and killing six million Jews, two-thirds of those in Europe. We know this now, but back then, amidst the chaos of war, it was just a rumour. From 1941 to 1942, 10000 men, women and children (almost the city’s entire Jewish population) were deported from Brno to Theresienstadt in the Bohemian region of Czechoslovakia. Built as a fortress, the camp had a dual purpose; as a transit point where thousands were held before being sent to labour camps and killing centres (like Dachau and Auschwitz), but also as a propaganda tool for the Nazis. On 1st April 1942, Emmy, her husband Albert and her daughter Hedy were sent to the Theresienstadt camp. Under the guise of a re-settlement centre, families boarded trains with their luggage believing they would survive the war in relative safety; with guaranteed jobs in factories, a roof over their heads and food in their bellies – living a better life than they had done in the ghettos of their own cities. Only, this belief was as much a myth as the camp itself. Arriving at Theresienstadt; their details were taken, an onward journey was noted, they ate their first hot meal in weeks, and – given a pen and paper – they were asked to write letters to their loved ones reassuring those left behind that they were safe. The letters were sent, and the cruel lie became fact. Described in Nazi propaganda as a model camp, Theresienstadt was a façade designed to hide the real horrors of Hitler’s plan. Under the hoax that this was a ‘spa town’ where families and the elderly could ‘retire’ in safety – prior to an inspection by the Red Cross in June 1944 – gardens were planted, houses painted and fake shops were built, as the prisoners danced wearing forced smiles for fear of death. Emmy lived amid the filth for three years; never knowing if she would see another day, if her daughter would starve, if her mother or sister had lived, or if her husband was alive. With the Allies advancing – seeking to destroy any evidence of the genocide - on 2nd February 1945, 47-year-old Albert Werner, Emmy’s husband of 17 years, was executed in the gas chambers at Dachau. His body was never found, his shallow grave is unknown, and all she retained of his was a single photo of the man she still loved. On the 5th May 1945 - with the camp liberated - Emmy and Hedy were free… …and although the war was over, their physical and psychological trauma had only just begun. Three days later, scenes of jubilation dotted our smouldering continent as the Allies celebrated Victory in Europe; street parties erupted, bands rang out and returning servicemen hugged their sweethearts. For many, life returned to normal, as the worst they’d ensure would be rationing for a few more years. But for the chosen few who – like Emmy - had ‘survived’ the holocaust, existence was just a memory. Physically, having endured starvation, malnutrition, tuberculosis, typhoid and/or dysentery, as well as punitive wounds from dog bites, whip-lashes, beatings and gun-shots, many survivors would continue to suffer from a wealth of medical issues for years or decades to come, right up to the day they died. Upon their liberation, thousands of survivors would die eating their first solid meal, as having been starved to the point where they were just skin and bones, their stomachs could no longer digest food. Mentally, although resilient - in an era before PTSD was understood and feelings were hidden by a stiff upper lip - those who lived through these horrors often suffered with higher levels of anxiety, paranoia and depression, a greater risk of suicide and schizophrenia, and were more likely to develop dementia in their later years owing to displaced trauma. Those who many said “we’re lucky to have survived”, often felt an unbearable sense of guilt having lived, later known as ‘survivor syndrome’. For the sake of her family, although only a little dot, through raw strength Emmy struggled on in the post-war years, but three years of occupation and three years of imprisonment had taken its toll. In June 1945, Emmy and daughter were just three of the 1033 Jews from Brno who had survived the Theresienstadt camp. Of the 10,081 Jews deported from this city, only one-tenth made it home. Only once home, still their pain did not end. Dressed in nothing but a ragged prison uniform and a serial-number permanently inked into their left forearm or breast, many returned to find nothing. No home, no work, no family, no money and no possessions, everything had been looted or smashed. Between June 1945 and September 1946, Emmy & Hedy Werner tried to live as best they could in the bombed-out remains of Brno, but life was a struggle. Taking a job at a Jewish Community Office, Emmy found her mother (Helene) and her sister (Anna) alive in London, and she moved to be near them. This should have been the end of her torture… …but the worst was yet to come. Emmy began her new life in London, a smashed smouldering city pockmarked with daily reminders of death. Being surrounded by family was a blessing, but she had little else except memories and grief. As a refugee, although educated, she could only get work as a cleaner, so her meagre earnings were supplemented by a disability allowance and a widow’s pension from the German government, as part of their reparations to the victims of the holocaust. But living for many was as terrifying as dying. Her daughter Hedy would state “In the three years since, she thought that people were following her. She tried to commit suicide by taking an overdose of pills and to cut her wrists”. Her mental decline was so swift that Hedy and Emmy’s sister Anna had here admitted to Bethlam Hospital, an infamous former Victorian asylum known as Bedlam, which was then a very progressive mental-health hospital. Admitted for three years, Emmy underwent the latest procedures. First was ECT, electroconvulsive therapy, a controversial psychiatric remedy where doctors attempted to reboot her brain by placing electrodes on her temples and inducing a current of up to 120 volts for up to six seconds a time. Administered in an era before anaesthesia, ‘unmodified ECT’ came with its own risks, such as; memory loss, paralysis, heart failure and broken bones, with some patients left disabled or in a vegetative state. Emmy would survive her treatment, but as Hedy would state “it was not a success”. Second was a lobotomy, a neurosurgical treatment (with a proven track-record curing epileptics) by severing the connections in the brain's prefrontal cortex, which often left the patient with long-lasting side effects such as vomiting, dizziness, incontinence, vision impairment, abnormal sensations and even paralysis. In Emmy’s case “it was not a success” and left her with two bore-holes in her temples. No matter what they tried, Emmy’s terror could never be erased… …as like the tattoo the Nazis had inked on her, the horror would remain forever. From 1950 to 1956, Emmy was admitted to Horton Mental Hospital in Epsom, Surrey as a voluntary inpatient. During her time, doctors described her as quiet and distant with no enthusiasm for life. At no point did she improve, as her silence was only her regression. So far, in her fifty-two-years alive, she had endured three years under Nazi occupation, three years in a concentration camp, three years at Bethlem and six years at Horton. She had been a prisoner in life and in her mind for fifteen years. In the summer of 1956, Emmy was discharged from Horton, and went to live with her elderly mother in Paddington. Medication had tempered her rages, but she was often confused, scared and rambling; she hoarded food, she became shabby and – like many - she was terrified that she was being watched. In October 1966, following her mother’s death, Emmy went to live with her daughter Hedy in Bedford. After two decades of mental illness, and now dementia, Hedy tried her best but this calm and pleasant little dot of a lady had been replaced by a frightened and paranoid woman prone to outbursts of anger. By 1967, Emmy Werner was far from the bright and confident woman that she once was. She was only sixty-three years-old by then, but life had ravaged her body and her mind. Walking with a stoop, this frail tiny lady looked at least twenty years her senior; her hearing was failing, her mind was confused, she was incontinent, her black moods came in waves and she needed help up the stairs. That year, through the Association of Jewish Refugees, Emmy was given a bed in an old people’s home. Ran by Edgar & Margaret Coldwell, the home at 11-13 Fenstanton Avenue in Finchley, North London was set in a series of two-storey semi-detached houses with white walls and black timber frames on a quiet leafy street. It was nice, but Emmy didn’t like living there, as she didn’t feel welcome or safe. Like many elderly persons, she worried about her finances, later telling a friend: “she had a sizable amount of money but her daughter and son-in-law would not allow her to have access to it”. She disliked the staff: “when I met Mr Coldwell, he was very angry. He shouted the whole time and looked pretty fearsome. Mrs Werner used to say she was frightened of him because he was always shouting”. But most of all, what she resented her lack of independence… …but London would provide some light in her gloomy life. When visiting her sister Anna in Paddington, Emmy would stay at The Queen’s Hotel at 86-90 Inverness Terrace in Bayswater. It was cheap and clean, but – best of all – the staff were pleasant and friendly. First staying in May 1972 and three times since, her family and the care-home had no issues, as they knew where she was, they had a number to call and in Emmy’s own words “the staff were very nice”. Linda, the 21-year-old receptionist would state “I met Mrs Werner, we became friendly, she told me she was not happy at the home, but at the hotel she had the freedom”. Oswald, the 45-year-old manager liked her as “she always paid on time and in cash”. And Paul, the 16-year-old day porter saw her as “a lovely old lady who just wanted some friends”. She had her quirks, but the staff liked her. The Queen’s Hotel was like a home-from-home and here she felt safe, warm and welcome. The last time Hedy saw her mum was on Saturday 9th September 1972 between 3pm and 6pm. Sat in her first-floor bedroom of the care-home in Finchley, Emmy was her usual self; she had made plans to visit her sister, to stay a few nights at The Queen’s Hotel and she wanted to go to the theatre. Hedy purchased two tickets for the matinee performance of the Ray Cooney farce ‘Move Over Mrs Markham’ at the Vaudeville Theatre for the following Saturday. With no friends of her own to go with, the second ticket went to Giovanna, a care assistant at the home, to ensure Emmy was looked after. On Thursday 14th September 1972 at roughly 10:30pm, Emmy entered the Queen’s Hotel. Dressed in a brown cardigan and skirt with a woolly mohair scarf, in her hand she carried a black bag filled with a spare set of clothes, some tissues, a box of TUC crackers and a bottle of jasmine perfume. Greeted by Angela, a different receptionist, Paul, the young day-porter telephoned Linda in her room to tell her “Mrs W’s here”, as Emmy had promised to take her to the theatre too. And although he was blighted by a cold and permanently blew his nose into some toilet tissue - keeping his distance as best he could for fear of passing it onto her - Paul assisted Emmy to the first floor and carried her bag to Room 11. It was ordinary day, and as Paul would say “she was in good health and had no complaints”. The room wasn’t much, but at just twelve-by-fifteen feet, it contained a single bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a phone, a radio, a tray of tea, and its own sink but it shared a bathroom and a toilet. It had a solid door which was locked with a key (one given to the guest and one held by reception), and a set of French doors leading to a small first-floor balcony which overlooked Inverness Terrace. Friday 15th September, the next day, was equally as forgettable. Emmy got up early, she had breakfast, she visited her sister, and returned about 10pm. Sat in reception, she chatted with Linda & Paul as per usual, and – as Paddy, the night porter came on shift – Paul assisted her up the stairs to her room. “Her spirits were good”, Paul would say. She hadn’t been followed, harassed and she seemed happy. So, it’s not surprising that Saturday 16th was as unremarkable as the others, with the only notable difference being that Emmy went to the theatre – aided by Giovanna, the care-assistant and Linda, the receptionist. The play was funny, Emmy liked it, they had a light bite, headed back to the Queen’s, where she chatted with Linda, Paul and Patricia, one of the chambermaids, and – this time – Linda assisted the frail old lady to her bedroom. Emmy thanked her, she entered Room 11, she locked the door behind her and left the key in the lock. As per usual, she undressed, she got into bed and (with not a care in the world) she drifted off to sleep. That was the last time that 68-year-old Emmy Werner was seen alive. (End) The night had been quiet in this bustling hotel; not an odd sound was heard, not a stranger was spotted and no suspicions were raised by the staff that any of the residents were in danger, or had died. At roughly 1pm, Cathy the chambermaid went to change the bedsheets of Room 11, but found the door locked from within. With no ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door and unable to use the pass-key, she climbed onto the balcony of Room 12 and entered via the French windows, left slightly ajar. The small room was only as messy as most customers leave it; with her clothes on the floor, her black bag and handbag by the bed, and a half-eaten cracker and a cup of tea gone cold left on the dresser. Cathy crept in, quietly cooing “Mrs W?” for fear of startling her, but she didn’t wake. Knowing she was hard of hearing, Cathy shook her “Mrs W?”, only she didn’t move. Emmy lay in bed, all silent and still, covered by a bedsheet which neither rose nor sank. Cathy thought the frail lady was only sleeping, but with her face contorted in fear, it was clear she’d been murdered. Throughout her life, this brave woman had endured more pain, loss and trauma than most would dare to imagine. And yet, in her last moments alive, someone had subjected this little lady to a torturous death. She had survived so much, only for her life to end here, in a cheap bed in a Bayswater hotel. Part two of three of The Night Porter continues next week. ** 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. 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” and nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British Podcast Awards". |
AuthorMichael J Buchanan-Dunne is a crime writer, podcaster of Murder Mile UK True Crime and creator of true-crime TV series. 
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