Nominated BEST TRUE-CRIME PODCAST at The British Podcast Awards, 4th Best True Crime Podcast by The Week, 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.
The junction of hertford Street and Park Lane in Mayfair where Ernest Bolton said his wife, Robina, picked up "a bearded man" shortly before 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.
EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHT:
At 12:45am on Saturday 14th January 1956, Ruby a local sex-worker was dropped off at this spot by her husband and pimp called Ernest. In his own words, “it was the last time I saw her alive”, as when he returned to their flat at 32 Westbourne Terrace, Ruby had been hatchetted to death in their bed. As the police’s prime suspect, Ernest would lay the blame for her murder on a mysterious man he had neither seen, met and had only heard about from his dead wife in passing. Unable to provide a single shred of evidence that this suspect even existed, his only description was that he was ‘a bearded man’. But was this the truth, a lie, or a shaky alibi?
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.
The location is marked with a rum & raisin raindrop in on the bottom right of Hyde Park. 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. https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C4202810 https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C10874384
MUSIC:
UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT OF THE EPISODE: Welcome to Murder Mile. Today I’m standing on the junction of Hertford Street and Park Lane in Mayfair, W1; one street south of the last defence of bouncer Tudor Simionov, one street east of the monstrous murder blamed on horror maestro Lon Chaney, a few doors down from the bloody butler’s big blow-out, and a short walk north-east of the tragic war hero who would never return home - coming soon to Murder Mile. Engulfed by a flank of five-star hotels; if you’re a talentless fame-hungry personality vacuum with fake teeth, fake tan, fake tits and a fake life; with a trowelled-on smile, a solo brain-cell reserved for pouting and a single expression of “oh my gahd” uttered like a constipated frog – then this is the place for you. Oh yes, this concrete cess-pit is very much the second home of the greedy, needy, grumpy and frumpy. But since the early 1700’s when Park Lane was developed as play-boy’s playground, it has always been a place where prostitutes and punters meet, as (rightfully) a lady-of-the-night should want to a man with money and (hopefully) manners, rather than a drunk thug with fast fists and hardly a tuppence. At 12:45am on Saturday 14th January 1956, Ruby a local sex-worker was dropped off at this spot by her husband and pimp called Ernest. In his own words, “it was the last time I saw her alive”, as when he returned to their flat at 32 Westbourne Terrace, Ruby had been hatchetted to death in their bed. As the police’s prime suspect, Ernest would lay the blame for her murder on a mysterious man he had neither seen, met and had only heard about from his dead wife in passing. Unable to provide a single shred of evidence that this suspect even existed, his only description was that he was ‘a bearded man’. But was this the truth, a lie, or a shaky alibi? My name is Michael, I am your tour guide, and this is Murder Mile. Episode 188: The Bearded Man – Part Two of Two. For the police, the most likely culprit in any murder is often the most obvious suspect. Stranger killings are incredibly rare, as the guilty party is usually the person with the most to gain or lose; like a relative, a lover, a friend, a flat-mate or a business partner – of which, Ernest was all five wrapped up in one. With mounting debts, a change in circumstance and a strange situation in which he helped sell his wife for sex - should a jury find him guilty - then the only rightful punishment would be his death. But how could they find him guilty ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’… …when ‘the bearded man’ may just have been a myth? There was a wealth of evidence against Ernest Bolton; this was his home, this was his wife and these were his debts. With his fingerprints found at the scene, his car spotted loitering nearby, a 45-minute gap in his timeline between when he last saw her and when his friends saw him, as well as the 1 hour 17 minutes delay between the time he discovered her body and when his solicitor called the police. During which time he failed to raise the alarm, to check her vital signs, or even to call for an ambulance. Asked to account for the inconsistencies in his alibi, his story had gaping holes and glaring omissions. He would blame his delay calling the police on shock and his prior conviction for ‘running a brothel’. With no sign of a break-in, he couldn’t explain why he had a key to the flat but not the main door. As her handbag was missing - suggesting a possible robbery – he couldn’t explain where it had gone, and yet, 11 days later after Police had examined the scene, he miraculously found it hidden under the grill. Asked if he knew she was dead, he replied “I am not sure. I think so. I could see something was wrong”. And although her head was caved in and her blood spattered up the wall, he did nothing to help her. Seen in situ, her autopsy was conducted that morning by Dr Keith Simpson at Paddington mortuary. Based on her body temperature, time of death occurred between 12am and 2am, with the 45-minute gap in Ernest’s timeline fitting it perfectly. With no signs of sexual violence or restraint, her assailant was unlikely to be a sadist, but someone with a grudge. Found prone and naked, Ruby was attacked with an axe wielded with such savagery that the blade embedded eight times behind the rear/right of her skull, leaving wounds 3 ½ and 5 inches long and 2 inches deep which lacerated her brain. And as she tried to fight back, the thumb of her left hand was almost severed, as she slowly bled to death. Her murder was frenzied, violent and spiteful. And yet, no weapon matching those wounds was found and with the flat’s fire being gas-powered, it was likely the axe was brought there by her attacker… …suggesting premeditation. Ruby had met several men that night including Ernest; one was a West Country client who was due to stay the whole night, but there was no evidence he had either arrived or left; one was a seller of erotic magazines which Ruby had £1 set-aside to buy, but none were seen among her stash; and of the £11 she’d earned that night (roughly £300 today), not one penny was found in the flat, or in her handbag. Ernest’s story was sketchy at best, but the biggest was his alibi of ‘the bearded man’. Unable to provide any more details; he didn’t know his name, age, address, occupation or even a vague description. But that didn’t mean that he was lying. Given the shocking sight he’d seen, Ernest’s actions were as irrational as any man who had found his wife murdered. When questioned, his grief was obvious being a broken man who had lost the woman he loved. Speaking to sex-workers who knew them both, his car was spotted in Piccadilly and Mayfair (as he had stated) during the time of the murder, and – given the violence of the attack – the culprit should have had blood on his hands, face and clothes. But having stayed over at The Murden’s home that night, he had neither washed his hands nor changed his clothes, and both were free of blood. Questioned by the police, with not enough evidence to charge, Ernest Bolton was released on bail. With their primary suspect looking less likely, needing to either prove or disprove his alibi about ‘the bearded man’, the police examined several the other fingerprints found at the murder scene… …and found a match. But was he a viable suspect… …or a convenient scapegoat? Born in the summer of 1928, Leonard Vincent Atter was a slightly undersized boy born in The Spinney, a quiet residential street in the town of Bedford, where he would live and work for most of his life. As the second youngest of five, with two brothers and two sisters, his upbringing was unremarkable. Educated to a level where a scholarship was mooted, as the family’s finances were too slim to get him into grammar school; he left at 14, he spent four years at a travel agency; five years as an infantryman in Black Watch and by the age of 24 had become a bookkeeper at a timber-merchants’ in Bedford. Blessed with a fanciful imagination, a love of writing and a religion zeal – being a life-long member of the Salvation Army - Leonard devoted his spare time to his faith; playing trumpet in the Salvation Army band, as well as bookkeeper and secretary for its infamous periodicals - War Cry and Our Little Soldier. Always being neatly dressed, well-spoken and clean shaven, even as a boy, he stood out as odd. As a teen who struggled to keep friends and to seize the affections of girls, it wasn’t only his weasily body, his moon-like face and his dark sunken eyes that made others uneasy, it was also his creepy demeaner. As being both a devout Catholic and a chronic masturbator, Leonard was a conflicted boy; with God in his heart, the devil in his soul, a swelling in his pants, and – ever the sadist - perversions on his mind. In March 1950, at a registry office in Bedford, Leonard married Lina Frieda Schafer; a German woman whose dominance excited him, as being a little older and a little taller, he was attracted to her power. Together the two had a daughter, but no longer finding him sexually appealing, they later separated. This was unsurprising as struggling with ‘little man syndrome’; Leonard openly bragged about the size of his penis, that he could satisfy any woman, that his capacious sexual appetite stretched to troilism, S&M and group sex (but never homosexuality), and – as a habitual user of sex-workers, hence why he was always broke - so gifted was his sexual prowess that even seasoned prostitutes paid him for sex. As a regular in every red-light district, he was regarded as a good client; who paid well, was no trouble, he had a few odd kinks (but who doesn’t) and could procure some mucky books at the drop of a hat. Across his odd little life, he was convicted of only one criminal offence, but it was not for violence. Out of a small office on Midland Road in Bedford, Leonard was running a small publishing house which sold his self-penned pornography featuring lurid sexual dalliances between bad girls and wicked men. Considered tame by today’s standards, his filthy mind earned him a £20-a-week – a decent wage. But unable to separate fact from fiction, filth from fantasy, in May 1954, he stepped over the line from a lover of erotic literature to a convicted sex-pest when he sent some of his books – signed “yours lustfully, Victor Love” – to seventeen girls who had been the subject of indecent assaults and rapes. Charged only with ‘publishing obscene books’ and ‘sending it through the post’, he was sentenced to two six-month sentences to be served consecutively and a £5 fine. When later questioned by a tabloid, he whined “it was just boy-meets girl stuff, you know. I never meant anything. I was just lonely”. Having served nine months in prison, he was released from Wormwood Scrubs on the 31st December 1955 and was asked to resign from the Salvation Army. To disguise his identity, Leonard – who had always been clean-shaven – grew a bushy beard, as he returned home to his rented lodging in London. Two weeks after his release, in a part of Paddington that he was known to frequent… …Ruby Bolton would be murdered. But how much of this was evidence, and how much is circumstantial? On the New Year’s Eve, as premature fireworks burst across the London skyline like the balls of a man who hadn’t had sex in months, 27-year-old Leonard Atter strode through the prison gates; with a new year, a fresh start and – shadowing his pale moon-like face - a dark bushy beard, all thick and coarse. Inside, he had undergone seven months of psychiatric assessment “to correct the minor aberration of my mind which previously got me into trouble”, although not once was she unashamed of his crime. As the cold winter air filled his lungs, Leonard sucked-in the much-lamented sights and smells of the city, as he slunk passed the prostitutes of Wormwood Scrubs, and the tube train shunted by the sex-workers of Shepherd’s Bush, Notting Hill, Bayswater and Paddington, until he got off at Regent’s Park. Convicted of the offence of obscenity, his life was left in tatters; Lina had left him taking their child, he had lost his job as a bookkeeper, he had barely a few shillings in his pocket, and his relationship with a 23-year-old window dresser called Thelma Rudkin had collapsed - he had no one and he had nothing. Only Leonard was not the only person who would be punished as a prisoner for his crimes. Before his conviction, Leonard & Thelma had signed a contract on a lodging at 6 St George’s Terrace in Primrose Hill, north of Regent’s Park. Since then, she had left him, but as (legally) a woman could not rent a flat of her own, she was stuck living in a one-roomed lodging with a registered sex offender. By day, she sat among the safety of the other tenants in the communal kitchen, warmed by a roaring stove kept stoked by the broken logs and chopped up kindling. But by night, she was forced to share a bed with a creepy little man; who had a suitcase full of porn, a raging libido, an insatiable need for sex, and – having spent nine months in a men’s prison – he lay with his ex in a cold loveless bed. Thankfully, Thelma knew that he was not a violent man… …just odd fantasist who hated being rejected by women. Eleven days after his release and three days before her death, Leonard prowled his usual haunts. Only being too broke to pay for sex, he sought out ladies in need of his mucky mags and lurid literature. At 11pm, without an ounce of shame, Leonard would confess to the police “I went to Mayfair with the purpose of meeting a prostitute I knew. She was talking to another prostitute on the corner of Hertford Street and Park Lane. I knew her as Ruby”. Having dropped her off, Ernest confirmed she was there, but as the street was unlit and he kept his distance, he could neither describe nor recall Leonard Atter. At first, she didn’t recognise him because of his beard, “I was talking to Ruby for about five minutes. I had been with her before May 1955, nine or ten times when I had intercourse with her for payment”. Having loaned £1 off Theresa, he propositioned Ruby, but with her rate averaging £5 and £15 for the night, she politely turned him down. “I told her where I had been” about prison and his offences “she sympathised and went so far as to say that I should have a cup of tea with her the following night”. She gave him a business card, she agreed to buy two books for £1 and he arrived home at midnight. By the next morning of Friday 13th January, things were looking up for Leonard the ex-con. Starting a new job as a bookkeeper, to tide him over till pay-day, Thelma had agreed to loan him a further £4. After work, in the little kitchen, as they sat supping tea, eating a light meal and being warmed by the roaring log fire, he unashamedly told Theresa about Ruby and the mucky books he planned to sell, stating “I haven't had a woman for nine months. I like her. She has invited me round to stay the night”. Dressed in a black suit, black shoes, black raincoat and carrying a small black briefcase full of porn, Leonard left home at 11pm, like a little dark shadow which dotted the dark-lit streets of the city… …a city which would soon drip red with Ruby’s blood. That day had particular tensions for Ruby & Ernest; the rent was due, the debts were rising, Ruby was working hard and Ernest had slept among the soils of a slew of men who banged his wife for money. The basics had become more difficult to buy; their last meal together came by a kind client’s coin, their last savings went on a new hair-do, they were stuck in a rut, and with the car low on fuel, unless their luck changed, he could no longer drive her to pick up her punters or to run a legitimate taxi-firm. That night, as far as we know, she earned £4 from the first client, possibly £3 from the second, £5 from the third, but – having gone missing from 11pm for 40 minutes – most likely she gained extra punters. Ernest next spotted her back on her patch at 11:40pm, they spoke briefly (but its content was unheard) and he circled from Piccadilly to Park Lane, until he saw her enter a cab with a ‘little guy’ at midnight. As per usual, by the junction of Gloucester Terrace and Craven Road, he waited in his freezing cold car outside the flat, within sight of the side-door and the window, with the light on and the curtains ajar. We know that her client was not Leonard, as at roughly 12:20am, he rang the flat’s phone, offered her £15 for the night, and in his own words “I phoned her, she was unable to speak openly but suggested I should make my way to her flat” – which he did. Which begs the question: if he had planned to pay her £15, how could he do so with only £4 in his pocket, plus the £1 she would pay him for the books? Picked-up by Ernest at 12:30am, Ruby would state “I’ve got somebody here all night… I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay at a hotel”. Supposedly, Ernest enquired “is it the bearded man?”, but as far as we know, she did not confirm who he was, and neither did she mention her client pre-arranged for 3am. Whether he existed is unknown. But as a man he had neither seen, heard, nor could described, as this mysterious unidentified punter was only ever mentioned by Ruby in-passing, he only knew him… …as ‘the man from West Country’. But was this the truth, a lie, or yet another shaky alibi? At 12:45am, on the corner of Hertford Street and Park Lane as she got into a taxi with a client, Ernest would state “it was the last time I saw her alive”. But we know for a fact that the client was Leonard. Having departed Hertford Street at 12:45am, a taxi-driver identified Ruby & Leonard (a bearded man with a black briefcase) as the couple he had dropped off at 32 Westbourne Terrace, a journey made memorable as he had only given a miserly three pence tip, although he would later claim it was nine. Just shy of 1am, about the time Ernest was driving around Piccadilly, they entered Flat 7. “I asked her again to allow me to stay with her for the rest of the night, but she was adamant that I must be clear of the flat by three o'clock when her other client was due to arrive. I eventually agreed… there was no doubt in my mind that she was offering intercourse, and the question of payment was not discussed”. The residents of Flat 4 immediately below and Flat 6 to the side would hear nothing all night. But when questioned, Leonard would state: “she was most friendly. She made cold meat sandwiches and tea, we perused some pornographic photographs, and she shared a large box of biscuits with me”. Although when the room was examined, there were no signs of any biscuits, tea or sandwiches. “It was then about 1.30am”, the time Ernest arrived at Mr & Mrs Murden’s, “she suggested we go to bed and disrobed. She put her coat and dress on the settee. I did not see her with a handbag. I also undressed with the exception of my socks. I joined her in bed where we had intercourse in a normal manner, after which we talked of prison life, her daughter, told jokes and so on for about half an hour. We both then washed our sexual parts in the kitchenette. We both dressed and I left her to await the arrival of the other man”, possibly from the West Country. “I think it was about a quarter past two, or a shade later, but not much. She let me out of the flat itself, but I let myself out of the outside door”. There were no witnesses to what happened but Ruby & Leonard, and although - “I was carrying a black briefcase containing photographs which I intended to leave with Ruby, but I don't know why I didn't” - his departure fits her time of death, just 45 minutes before the West Country man was due to arrive… …a mystery man who was never identified. As a fantasist - even if Leonard was an innocent man – his next few hours were curiously odd. At about 2:30am, a taxi picked him up in Paddington, it drove him east to Euston station where he took a second cab north-west to his home in Primrose Hill, arriving at 3am, having crossed several parks and a canal. At 7am, over breakfast, his ex-partner Theresa asked him if he had met the prostitute and sold her the books (as he had stated earlier), he said “I did not, I went to Lyon’s Cornerhouse in Marble Arch and caught the last tube home” – and yet, not a single staff member nor customer could recall seeing him. That morning, he took the clothes he was wearing to a laundry and had them professionally cleaned. At 7:45am, on Archer Street in Soho, a lodger from the same house saw Leonard with his recognisably bushy beard and waved. At 10am, at 44 Brewer Street, William Gasser a barber was paid 4 shillings to shave off the sides of his beard, leaving him with a goatee. And at 2:30pm, that same lodger again saw Leonard and would state “he had quite a lot of beard, it was bushy…but now it was quite short”. But was this the act of a guilty man covering his tracks, or an innocent man going about his day? Having investigated Ernest’s alibi of a mysterious ‘bearded man’, a fingerprint found in Ruby’s room had led to the criminal record of a man convicted of the crime of obscenity; who knew the victim, had visited her flat, and would later confess that he’d had sex with her. But was he really her killer? (End) On Sunday 15th January at 6pm, one day after her body was found, police questioned Leonard Vincent Atter - at which he confessed to seeing her, but denied killing her – and he was charged the next day. Described as a fantasist and a liar, he would boast that he’d had sex with Ruby without using a condom, but as no semen was found inside of her, the pathologist said it was unlikely that sex had taken place. In a cupboard at his lodging, Police found a black briefcase containing pornographic photos and a lurid story penned by him, which he confirmed were his and which he had taken to Ruby’s in order to sell. Given the brutality of her injuries, believed to have been inflicted by an axe, although his clothes were clean, tests found traces of human blood on his sleeves, legs and shoes, as well as on his handkerchief (with traces of lipstick) and on the inside of his briefcase, as this was how he may have carried the axe. With a short-handled axe used for chopping-up kindling missing from his kitchen, given his odd route home, having possibly dumped the murder weapon in the nearby Regent’s canal, it was never found. Tried at the Old Bailey, at the end of a five-week trial, on Wednesday 21st March 1956, Leonard Atter was found not guilty and later acquitted of Ruby’s murder. With the judge – Mr Justice Devlin – stating that the prosecution’s case was just “a collection of small circumstantial pieces of evidence”. With that, Leonard was discharged and released, the inquest was closed without announcing a verdict, and – as of today - the murder of 34-year-old Robina Bolton, known as Ruby, remains unsolved. 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.
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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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