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Battlebridge Basin on the Regent's Canal (where the dismembered body parts were found)
Welcome to the Murder Mile true-crime podcast and audio guided walk of London's most infamous and often forgotten murder cases, set within one square mile of the West End.
EPISODE TWENTY THREE
Episode Twenty Three: On 19th February 2001, at Battlebridge Basin, ten dismembered body-parts, belonging to an unidentified woman, wrapped in six separate bags, were found submerged in the Regent's Canal. But who was she? And who had murdered her?
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THE LOCATIONS
IMPORTANT: You're probably thinking, "hello, where's all those lovely coloured dots on the map gone?" Don't worry, there still there, but that was the Murder Mile map of one square mile of Soho & Covent Garden, where-as this is a brand-new map of Paddington & Bayswater; a different square mile of London's West End, which we shall return to over the next 100+ episodes.
As the photos of John Sweeney, Melissa Halstead and Paula Fields are copyright protected by news organisations (and I don't want to be billed £300 for copyright infringement again), to view them, take a peek at my entirely legal social media accounts - Facebook, Twitter or Instagram.
23 – Canal Killers – John Sweeney (Paula Fields & Melissa Halstead)
INTRO: Thank you for downloading episode twenty three of the Murder Mile true-crime podcast. If you enjoy Murder Mile? You’ll be delighted to hear that I’ve set-up a secret hidey-hole where I shall stash some truly fantastic treats relating to the Murder Mile true-crime podcast; including behind-the-scene videos, crime-scene photos, biographies, case-notes, transcripts and exclusive monthly episodes which delve deep into the lives of Soho’s most colourful criminal characters as featured in the Murder Mile True-Crime Podcast. And with a tiny donation of just $3 per month (or £2 in real money), you will also ensure the future of Murder Mile for years to come. To check out our Patron page, please go to www.patreon.com/murdermile or click on the link in the show-notes. Don’t forget to stay tuned to the end of this episode to hear more about Murder Mile’s recommended podcast of the week, this time it’s the fabulous Based on a True-Crime. Thank you for listening and enjoy the episode. SCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile; a true-crime podcast and audio guided walk featuring many of London’s untold, unsolved and long-forgotten murders, all set within one square mile of the West End. Today’s episode is about John Sweeney; a deeply deranged, dangerous and violent alcoholic, whose jealousy, rage and hatred of women left to a bloody trail of body-parts across Europe. Murder Mile contains graphic descriptions of death which may offend, as well as realistic sounds, so that no matter where you listen to this podcast, you’ll feel like you’re actually there. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 23: Canal Killers – John Sweeney Part 1 (Paula Fields & Melissa Halstead) Today I’m chugging along the Regent’s Canal, passing a recently renovated part of King’s Cross called Battlebridge Basin; a former Victorian wharf in which vast blocks of arctic ice were once stored in stone cellars providing the city with a steady supply of cold drinks, fresh fruit and ice-cream, back in the days before fridges. Ooh, a historical tit-bit, how fascinating. Now, Battlebridge Basin is perched in the typical kind of former crack-hovel and whore-haven which property developers cram full of empty art-galleries, wanky wine-bars, offices for arseholes and hardly used shag-pads, having conned a couple of hipster half-wits to stump-up a big wodge of cash for a drafty shithole in an “up and coming area”, which (we all know) is code for “rough as fuck”. And perched opposite that is an uneven stony tow-path, lined with a cavalcade of canal-boaters, all batting away an endless barrage of baffling questions from nosey nincompoops such as “do you live on a boat?”, “yes I live on a boat”, “oh, well where do you sleep?”, “I sleep in my bed”, “oh, and how do you wash?”, “in my shower”, “and you cook?”, “in my kitchen”, “drink?”, “from a glass”, “stay warm?”, “by the fire”, all which is topped-off by a bonkers pile of dribbly mouth-plop such as “so, what do you eat”, only for the frustrated boater to want to reply ““food, I eat food”, only to realise that Dipshit McThickTwit won’t piddle off until he’s received the answer he’d hoped you’d say like “I catch fish with my teeth, I forage in bins, I blow otters for tobacco cash and I grow my own mung-beans using an old mix of ear-wax, toe-chud and belly-button fluff”. It’s sad because it’s true. And if this area sounds slightly familiar to you, that’s because it’s just one hundred metres from the flat of drug-dealer Michael Walsh, three hundred metres from Caledonian Road and six hundred metres from the West Portal of the Islington Tunnel where devoted father, Italian tour-guide and heroin-addict Sebastiano Magnanini was found hog-tied to a shopping trolley and dumped in the Regent’s Canal. And it was here, at Battlebridge Basin, on Monday 19th February 2001, that in six separate bags, weighed down with various house-bricks, that ten dismembered body-parts of a woman were fished out of the canal; these hastily hacked-up remains having belonged to the ex-girlfriend of a jealous, drunk and vengeful sadist, whose name was John Sweeney. (INTERSTITIAL). Born John Patrick Sweeney on Saturday 13th October 1956; Sweeney was raised in Kirkdale, a working-class district of Liverpool that borders the towns of Bootle, Walton and Everton, in an era when this prosperous city had shifted from being one of Britain’s busiest shipping ports, only to slide into economic decline and endemic poverty, and end up full of crumbling Victorian terraces, pockmarked with the bomb craters of the World War Two blitz. Sweeney’s upbringing was unremarkable and uneventful, as although the family were poor, Jack and Catherine (his parents) instilled into their son an Irish Catholic sense of morality, pride, hard-work and family values. And although life was tough, money was tight and the future looked bleak, in 1950’s Liverpool; a city packed full of working-class Irish families, Sweeney’s childhood was normal. And as a bright boy, from a good family, with no qualifications, although he spoke with a stutter for which the young boy was mercilessly bullied, Sweeney set about learning a trade, earning a wage, and seeing the world as a jobbing carpenter. For five years, Sweeney crossed the Continent, working on various construction sites in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria and Holland; with a kitbag full of tools; a wallet full of cash and an eye for the ladies. But it was here, during this blank spot in his history, that Sweeney’s personality changed forever; something had shifted, something had snapped and something had broken, and what returned to England a few years later, was a bitter, angry and jealous man whose life was consumed by a passion for drink, a hunger for drugs and a thirst for extreme violence. Aged twenty, having returned to Liverpool, John Sweeney still looked like the boy who’d left a few years earlier, with his curly red hair, dark blue eyes, a cheeky grin and arched (clown-like) eyebrows, but now his hair was thinning, his eyes were bloodshot, his nose was bulbous, his cheeks were rosy like those of a rampant alcoholic, and his almost angelic face which always seemed to be smiling, cheery and kind, belied a vicious temper and sadistic rage which bubbled beneath. Sweeney had come home, to see his family, to settle down and to find himself a wife. But this road to love would ultimately lead Sweeney down the path of violence, torture, dismemberment and death. (INTERSTITIAL) Having found himself a good woman with a warm heart, a kind smile and strong family values, in 1976 John Patrick Sweeney married Anne Bramley and moved into their matrimonial home in Skelmersdale in Lancashire (14 miles from his home-town of Kirkdale), which was quickly followed by the births of their two children, Michael and Tracey. But this was not the home of a happy family. With Sweeney’s binge-drinking and excessive use of cannabis; two very different drugs, known to cause and also exacerbate a user’s sense of aggression, hostility, depression, anxiety and paranoia; not only had Sweeney started using aliases – like Joe Johnson, Joe Carole and often being referred to as “Scouse Joe” - to cover his increasing criminal convictions for drunkenness, drug-possession, theft and assault, but as a father and a husband he was often absent, distant and violent. In 1979, three years into their turbulent marriage, with the safety of her two toddlers to consider, as well as her own life, and having reported Sweeney to the Police on numerous occasions for assault and battery, Anne made a brave decision and divorced her violent and abusive husband. But just two years later; having apologised and promised Anne that he was a changed man, with the drink and drugs behind him and a bright future ahead, Anne gave Sweeney one last chance, and in 1981, they remarried. But Sweeney hadn’t changed; he was still drunk, drugged and dangerous, and with Anne having left him once before, her rejection had lit a fire in Sweeney’s belly, and there was no way that she was ever going to leave him again. Their second marriage would last barely a year. Becoming more paranoid, hostile and violent; having thrown bricks at her window, bashed in the family turtles and repeatedly threatened Anne’s life; verbally, physically and artistically - with Sweeney having handed his son a gruesome pencil sketch depicting his mother, dead and lying in a coffin, scrawled on the gravestone the words “Rest in Peace Anne” - once again, fearing for her family’s life, Anne made a midnight run to the safety of her family home in Northampton. But no matter how far she ran or how well she hid, Sweeney would always find her. In November 1982, having moved herself and her two young children into a small cottage in Ormskirk; a small market town in West Lancashire, just 14 miles north of Liverpool, Anne thought she had found sanctuary, but her peace was shattered, as she had been followed here by Sweeney. That evening, as a cold wintery wind whipped over the hills, the moon shadowed by thick clouds and a cold sharp frost crunching under foot, Sweeney crept towards the family home. Through a crack in the curtains, he spied a single light on inside, but hearing no voices, no sounds and no movement, he broke the lock on the backdoor, knowing no-one was home. Inside lay the detritus of the family life he felt had been denied by Anne; with food in the cupboards, toys on the floor and photos on the mantelpiece, Sweeney slunk into the darkness of Anne’s bedroom, opened the wardrobe, crept inside and hid. And as he stood there, surrounded by the familiar sight of her clothes and the scent of her perfume, all of which reminded him of how she had rejected him, Sweeney lay in wait for his wife to return, a pick-axe in one hand, a claw-hammer in the other. But he didn’t have to wait long, as just a few minutes later, from inside his wife’s wardrobe, Sweeney heard the jangle of her house-keys, her front-door unlock and her house-lights slowly illuminate each room as footsteps calmly walked into her bedroom. With his knuckles white with anticipation as he tightly gripped the pick-axe and claw-hammer in both fists, having readied himself for a vicious and frenzied attack on his soon-to-be ex-wife, Sweeney burst out of the wardrobe, his wild eyes fixed… …on two policemen; both big, ready and packing handcuffs; as Sweeney dropped his weapons, his stutter went into overdrive as he unleashed a volley of excuses about who he was, why he was there and what on earth he was doing in the wardrobe with a pick-axe and a claw-hammer. Thankfully, Anne and the kids, having spent a pleasant evening at their neighbour’s house, and heard the sounds of an intruder breaking in, assumed it was a burglar, called the Police and John Sweeney was arrested. But he wasn’t charged with attempted murder or attempted manslaughter. As with no assault committed, malicious intent being hard to prove and the incident having occurred in what was (technically) his own house, so the law was at a loss with what to do with him, but owing to his long-history of threats and violence against Anne, John Sweeney was “bound-over to keep the peace” by Ormskirk Magistrates Court, meaning that – as a condition of his bail – he had to stay away from Anne. That same year, Sweeney started afresh and moved to London, where he remained for decades, only returning to Liverpool to see his mum. And although he and Anne crossed paths, for the sake of the kids they remained on civil terms, until her death in 2001, when she lost a long battle with cancer. The same year that ten dismembered body-parts (consisting of two arms, two legs and a woman’s torso), wrapped in six separate bags and weighted down with house-bricks were found submerged at Battlebridge Basin in the Regent’s Canal. But the body in the canal was not Anne. Sweeney never made an attempt on Anne’s life again. Maybe he never had the chance? Maybe he still loved her? Or maybe he knew it was wrong to deprive his kids of a loving mother? But with so much jealousy in his eyes, so much hatred in his heart and so much anger in his bones, Sweeney (once again) went looking for love, and her name was Melissa Halstead. Born in Oakwood (Ohio), the middle child to Margaret & Jack Halstead, a middle-class couple with a dentist’s surgery in Dayton; Melissa Halstead was bright, bubbly and bold, whose free-spirited nature was matched only by her kindness, warmth and compassion. And being a beautiful woman, with sparkling eyes, excellent pose and a stunning bone structure, Melissa was quickly scooped up by New York’s famous Ford Modelling Agency, where he career as a fashion model began, touring across America, Europe and Asia. Described by her brother Jack Junior as “egocentric” and “magnanimous”, Melissa always saw the best in people, never the worst, and although she was slow to trust a stranger “once you were her friend, you were her friend for life”. By 1986, having retrained as a fashion photographer and make-up artist, Melissa had settled down in London and a new chapter in her life was about to begin... and end. Melissa told her family very little about her new boyfriend, who was known as “Scouse Joe”, and quite what she saw in this ruddy-cheeked, red-headed, moody, drunken, twice-divorced handyman with a lengthy criminal past and a long history of violence, was anybody’s guess? Nut whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it. Described by Sweeney as a “love-hate” relationship, with Melissa being hopelessly besotted by her drunken abusive beau and him being a short-fused and quick-fisted alcoholic, often he’d explode in a jealous rage, as he pummelled and scarred her strikingly beautiful face with a never-ending series of black eyes, bloody lips and swollen cheeks. The warning signs were there. And on three separate occasions, having tried to leave him, Sweeney was arrested and charged with (ABH) Actual Bodily Harm for having violently assaulted Mellissa during their brief and tempestuous liaison. In September 1987, he smashed her in the face with a stool. In December 1987, he beat her so badly (as she lay cowering on the floor) that he fractured her legs. On one occasion he was heard to scream “Who do you think you are? I’m the one who says what you can and can’t do”, and yet, for both offences, he served no prison time and was fined just £5. And in April 1988, having threatened Melissa with a knife, scaring her so badly that – in a haunting premonition of her grisly death, she remarked to her sister that “if I go missing, it’s John Sweeney who would have killed me” - this time, Sweeney was “bound over” by the courts, as had happened with his ex-wife Anne, the condition being that he had to stay away from Melissa forever. In October 1988, in a mixed blessing by the British Government, with Melissa living having worked using an expired permit, she was deported from the United Kingdom and restarted her life again in Austria, France, Germany, Belgium and Holland, hundreds of miles away from Sweeney. But no matter how far she travelled, how well she hid and how carefully she covered her tracks, each time she moved, Sweeney would find her; his anger fuelled by drink, his paranoia stoked by spliffs, his jealousy fired-up by her rejection, and the court’s bail conditions invalid outside of the UK. Having stalked his supposedly deceitful girlfriend across six different European countries, on Tuesday 1st November 1988, Sweeney tracked Melissa to her new flat in the Austrian city of Vienna. Being drunk, drugged and deluded; having found it impossible to believe that the relationship’s failure was his fault and obsessed with the idea that Melissa had cheated on him, Sweeney broke in via the back-door, bound and gagged her friend and ransacked her flat, as he trashed every cupboard, drawer and box-file for any evidence of her obvious infidelity. Experience of his violent jealous rages had taught Melissa well; she knew not to rile him, confront him or even answer back, instead sensing that he needed to cool off, she purchased him a ticket to Amsterdam where he could smoke weed, drink beer and chill. Whether this was a kind gesture to quell his agitated mental state, a cunning ploy to distract this dangerous man long enough to escape, or an honest promise to rekindle their relationship in the next city on her itinerary, is unknown? Regardless, the ruse worked, Sweeney took the ticket and left. But a few days of getting boozed-up and stoned-out had done little to quell the fiery Scouser’s temper, and sensing that this ticket was a simply scam, to either pacify him, bribe him, or shrug him off, just as every bloody woman had done in his shitty little life; having rejected his love, his kindness and his loyalty. Oh yes, those lying cheating bitches had conspired against him, and he would make them pay. Melissa was to blame; she had rejected, just like Anne; she had abandoned him, just like Anne; and she had destroyed him, just like Anne. Sweeney’s anger had come full-circle and now it was time to complete what he had begun, and to get his revenge. On Friday 4th November 1988, just four days later, and almost exactly six years after his failed attack on Anne from inside her bedroom wardrobe, Sweeney approached Melissa’s flat. Unlike that night at Anne’s cottage, Melissa was home. Unlike that night, he didn’t break-in, he knocked. Unlike that night, as Melissa saw her stalker return and a heated argument ensued. But just like that night, six years earlier at Anne’s cottage, Sweeney was ready, as grasped in his right hand, his knuckles white with anticipation, he clutched a claw-hammer. As Melissa led Sweeney up the stairs to her first-floor flat, facing forward with her back turned, she felt a heavy thud, heard a dull crack and her vision went black, as straddling her – his teeth gritted, his eyes wild, his arm swung high - Sweeney struck the soft skull of a petite woman who was half his weight, his foot-long hammer raining blows down upon her with over half a kilo of steel. Somehow, Melissa survived. From her hospital bed, having escaped with her life and suffered nothing more than severe bruising and a fractured skull, Melissa later stated “I only ever wanted to help him, but now I know he must have really hated me”. Later that day, John Sweeney was arrested For the unprovoked attack on Melissa Halstead, which left the ex-model traumatised, in pain and disfigured; after four months in custody, having claimed that it wasn’t a premeditated attack, but an emotional act between two lovers in the heat of a passionate debate, Austrian authorities were unable to charge Sweeney with attempted murder or even attempted manslaughter, and (once again) Sweeney was found guilty of the lesser charge of aggravated assault, he was sentenced to a 10 year deportation order and just 12 months in prison. His short sentence and early release having been assured after an impassioned plea to the judge by the one person that he had almost killed - Melissa. Incredulous at her sister’s forgiveness from her hospital bed of the man who had attempted to murder her, Chance O’Hara asked her sister if she had lost her frigging mind, but – being a kind, warm and caring soul, who only saw only the good, even in those who were bad through and through – Melissa had believed his cries, tears, begging and his promise to leave her alone, if she would get him out. In March 1989, having accepted his apology and his promise that he was a changed man, with the drink and drugs behind him and a bright future ahead, and (just like Anne), Melissa gave Sweeney one last chance, and – having served just six months in prison – they rekindled their relationship. Barely a few months later; the footless, handless and headless corpse of 33 year old Melissa Halstead would be found, hidden in a duffle bag, floating in a canal having brutally died at the hands of her evil sadistic and jealous boyfriend. But Melissa was not the body which had been found at Battlebridge Basin in the Regent’s Canal. That woman was still alive, for now, as she was yet to become a future ex-girlfriend of John Sweeney. To be continued. OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile. And don’t forget, if you are the victim of domestic abuse, or you have inflicted violence against a loved one, never be afraid to speak out, as professional help is only a phone-call away. As a treat to you all, this week’s recommended podcast of the week is called ‘Based on a True-Crime’, and if (like me) you’re both a film-buff and a true-crime nut, Chelsea & David who host this awesome podcast, not only do they dive into some truly classic films (such Amityville Horror, The Exorcist and my personal favourite 10 Rillington Place) but they also analyse the crime which inspired the film, debunking any myths, mistakes and narrative additions for dramatic licence. Check out their promo. Don’t forget to check out the Murder Mile website at murdermiletours.com, find us on Twitter or Instagram, or join the Murder Mile True-Crime Podcast discussion group on Facebook. A quick thank you this week to the fabulous people who have left five-star reviews of Murder Mile and have been truly fabulous on social media, they include; Suzie Brace, Mandi Collins, Ian Flintham, Kazzerlicious, Ferris the Frog, Nala Llabnrut, Janine Maddon, Clairelet, Stuart who left a fabulous comment on the Murder Mile blog about the Denmark Place Fire and to Gearoid Curley, who h=not only listens to the Murder Mile podcast, but came all the way for Cork to come on the Murder Mile Walk, I thank you. And Kaz Every. And of course a quick shout-out goes to my good friend, Barry at the Extraordinary Stories Podcast; if you fancy shaking up your true-crime playlist, and adding in a big dose of myths, murders, theories and conspiracies, all of which is well-told and truly mind-bending stuff, wrap your head around the Extraordinary Stories Podcast. Available on all podcast platforms. Murder Mile was researched, written & performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. Next week’s episode… is the concluding part of Canal Killer – John Sweeney. Thank you for listening and sleep well. 24 – Canal Killers Pt2 – John Sweeney (Paula Fields & Melissa Halstead) INTRO: Thank you for downloading episode twenty four of the Murder Mile true-crime podcast. If you’re new to Murder Mile, please note that this episode is the concluding part of a two-part special into canal-killer John Patrick Sweeney, so I would strongly advise you download any other episode. For regular listeners, thank you for listening, for sharing, for reviewing, for spotting the secret thing (that only a select few have found, one of whom did so whilst picking up dog-poo) and to those who’ve signed up to the exclusive content on the Murder Mile Patreon account, I thank you. Don’t forget to stay tuned to the end of this episode to hear more about Murder Mile’s recommended podcast of the week, this time it’s the murderously good Wining about Crime. Thank you for listening and enjoy the episode. SCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile; a true-crime podcast and audio guided walk featuring many of London’s untold, unsolved and long-forgotten murders, all set within one of three square miles. Ooh. Today’s episode is the conclusion to the story of John Sweeney; an abusive, violent and dangerously disturbed man whose drug-fuelled paranoia and insane jealousy of his girlfriends, led to a bloody trail of body-parts across Europe, the full-extent of his brutality remains a mystery even today. Murder Mile contains graphic details of abuse, torture and death which may offend, as well as realistic sounds, so that no matter where you listen to this podcast, you’ll feel like you’re actually there. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 24: Canal Killers – John Sweeney Part 2 (Paula Fields & Melissa Halstead) Today I’m not within one square mile of Soho, Paddington, King’s Cross, or even the Regent’s Canal; I’m 256 miles away in Holland’s beautiful capital city of Amsterdam; a coastal city crammed full of architectural marvels from the medieval times to the modern age; cross-crossed by laid-back cycle-ways, stunning bridges, and interconnected by an intricate canal system… which isn’t full of moany stoners in hi-viz vests, who’ve draped their leaky plastic cruiser in a huge blue tarpaulin, as if looking like an Ikea bag is the height of chic. (out of shot) “Ah get shagged!” Unlike stuffy old London, Amsterdam is so liberal; not only is it chock-full of history and high-art, but it also has three museums dedicated to prostitution, procreation and penises, and also (I’m guessing) a kid’s cannabis crèche, a dildo recycling service, six streets named after syphilitic sailors, a free orgasm vending-machine; a shop which sell willy-warmers woven from old pubes, and an publically funded institute promoting the complete history of the anus. And as I sit outside of a snowy café; chomping on pancakes, supping on wheat-beers and toking on an entirely legal spliff; although I’m nowhere near Battlebridge Basin - where on 19th February 2001, ten dismembered body parts of John Sweeney’s ex-girlfriend were found submerged in the Regent’s Canal - this is where the last episode ended and where this new episode begins. On Monday 27th March 1989, having served just half of a twelve month sentence for violently attacking his girlfriend with a half-kilo foot-long claw-hammer on the stairwell of her Austrian flat - an horrific attack which left her riddled with pain, plagued by flashbacks and crippled with anxiety – 34 year old John Patrick Sweeney walked free from JustIzastalt-Wien-erdberg prison in Vienna. Having spent two weeks in hospital, his terrified victim – Melissa Halstead; whose bruises had heeled but whose skull was still fractured and required a daily dose of pain-killers to dull her constant headaches – was safe from his anger, jealously and violence. And to protect her from any further danger, the judge had also issued Sweeney with a 10 year deportation order, which not only ensured he stayed away from Melissa, but also banned him from returning to Austria for the next decade. And as Sweeney breathed in that fresh Austrian air, the cool mountain wind tickling his bright red beard, a stunningly beautiful blonde lady kissed him on the lips. Quite what she saw in him, nobody knows? But this bright, bubbly, American ex-fashion model who had believed his cries and his lies that he was a changed man, and had personally pleaded the judge for her boyfriend’s early release, Melissa Halstead picked Sweeney up from prison, her car packed with their bags, and (outside of the protection of the deportation order) they headed off to Holland, ready to begin a new life together. But those six months of incarceration and solitude had done nothing to cure him of his addiction to drink, his hunger for drugs, his jealous streak, his paranoia and his obsession with torture and violence. Sweeney was a sick man. And as much as Melissa believed that he loved her, really he was controlling her. As much as she insisted that he was protecting her, really he was assaulting her. And as laidback as their new home-city was; with its late-night bars, legalised drugs and liberal attitudes to sex, Amsterdam was the worst place for a jealous, paranoid, sex-obsessed alcoholic and heavy cannabis user, who also dabbled in LSD and was hopelessly addicted to heroin. Although he did a few odd-jobs as a carpenter, most of which funded his habit, Melissa’s career as a photographer and make-up artist paid for the rent, the food, everything. And as the months went on, so did the beatings, all of which Melissa covered over with weak excuses and heavy mascara. As a minor blessing, Melissa’s occupation was perfectly suited to her free-spirited nature, which gave her ample opportunity to see the world and meet new people, in an unpredictable and unscheduled routine which meant she would often be away and out-of-contact for days, weeks and even months. But the longer she was gone; the more Sweeney drank, the blacker his moods got, and the more his jealousy festered. During the last week of April 1990 - with Europe still in a state of celebration, five months after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War – Melissa Halstead returned home to Kromme Waal in the centre of Amsterdam, and the basement flat she shared with violent and controlling boyfriend; her plan (once again) to try and leave Sweeney forever. On Thursday 3rd May 1990, 50 miles from Amsterdam, in the Dutch coastal city of Rotterdam, a green army surplus kit-bag was found partially submerged and floating down the Westersingel canal. Seeing the thirty inch canvas bag bobbing up-and-down, two keen-eyed Police constables assumed it was either stolen luggage or dumped rubbish, but as both men huffed and heaved the heavy hessian sack onto the stony towpath, as gallons of canal water drained out, still the bag was a dead-weight. In an unnervingly similar incident to one which would take place at Battlebridge Basin on the Regent’s Canal, almost a decade later, as the Police unzipped the bag, they witnessed what would become the grisly calling-card of a maniac. Inside, the naked torso of a mid-thirties female had been hacked-up, folded in half and forced into the tight duffle-bag; across her ankles and neck were rough jagged tears where (using what carpenter’s refer to as a Rip Carcass Saw), he had sawn through the tibia and fibula of both lower legs and the cervical curve of her neck, severing her spine and decapitating her hands and head. And although her body had been bound with a tough braided sisal rope (the kind used on building sites), having been submerged in water for a little over a week, with decomposition in an advanced state, already her pale discoloured skin had slipped free of its binds. The Police were at a loss as who this woman was, as whoever had murdered her, had made a conscious effort to destroy any evidence of who she was. And with no clothes, no bag, no ID, no hands, no head, and almost all of the DNA evidence having washed away into the canal, all Police had was a torso with no name, no face, no eyes, no teeth, no birth-marks, no operation scars and no fingerprints. And having no head, Police couldn’t even identify her by that tell-tale skull fracture, having recently been attacked by her boyfriend using a carpenter’s claw-hammer. With no missing person’s report fitting her limited description, and her hands and head having never been found, Melissa Halstead was marked as a Jane Doe and buried in an unmarked grave in a Rotterdam cemetery. Exactly how and where Melissa died, we shall never know, as being so hard-working and free-spirited, her family in Ohio only realised she was missing when on 2nd November 1990 she failed to call her mother to wish her a happy birthday, and hired a local lawyer to investigate her disappearance. But by then, it was too late; her basement flat was totally empty, meticulously clean and its former occupants were gone. Melissa had vanished, Sweeney had returned to England and (once again) he went looking for love, and her name was Delia Balmer. (INTERSTITIAL) Having met Sweeney in a kooky Camden pub in early 1991, although Delia was instantly smitten with this cheeky-faced Liverpudlian who was artistic, well-travelled and lived an almost idyllic bohemian lifestyle, together they truly seemed like an odd-couple; as she was a petite timid blonde who worked as a nurse saving lives but had an irrational fear of all electronic devices, and he was a tall red bearded psychopath with one murder and one attempted murder in his past, and one murder still to come. Being honest, sweet and trusting, it wasn’t long before Delia let Sweeney move into her home; a ground-floor flat in Leighton Grove (Camden), which was situated just one mile from Regent’s Canal, and barely one and a half miles from Battlebridge Basin where the body-parts would later be found. And as bizarre as their flat was; with Delia having covered every phone, radio and television in cushions for fear that they caused cancer, the epitome of disturbing was how Sweeney decorated the flat; not only with beer cans, spent spliffs and crack-pipes, but also a pet tarantula, a large stash of horror magazines and a wall packed full of morbid self-drawn art-work depicting axes, blood, torture, body-parts and headless female corpses. As with Melissa and Anne, it wasn’t long before her life was being dominated by his paranoid deluded jealousy, as Sweeney controlled every aspect of Delia’s life, whether she was there or not, and what started with a never-ending succession of emotional blackmail, mental abuse and physical assaults over a four year period, soon descended into an incident of unimaginable horror. In November 1994, with Delia having attempted to leave her psychopathic partner after a series of violent beatings which left her bruised, bloodied and fearing for her life - as punishment - Sweeney tied the tiny helpless woman to the frame of her bed, using the same kind of tough braided sisal rope he had bound Melissa’s lifeless body with, and in a sickening ordeal which lasted 48 hours, Delia was repeatedly raped, strangled, beaten and tortured, as Sweeney held a gun to her head, threatening to cut out her tongue with a kitchen knife if she screamed. Delia later stated, “I could see the dark, empty, evil look coming into his eyes and his hands started to shake”. And with the cold steel of the handgun pressed firmly against her head, Sweeney pulled the trigger till the hammer went click, his empty threat made all-the-more real as he loaded the gun before her eyes and boasted about how the last ex-girlfriend who tried to leave him was found floating in a Rotterdam canal, her head and hands hacked-off using the Rip Carcass saw he kept in his bag. But just like his ex-wife Anne Bramley, he didn’t kill Delia Balmer; he couldn’t, he wouldn’t and no-one knows why except Sweeney. Instead, having left her bruised, bloodied, terrified and tied to the bed, Sweeney fled to Germany. But with the Police now aware of his details, description and aliases, he was arrested a few days later, deported back to the UK and held on remand at Pentonville Prison. A Category B prison on the Caledonian Road, just a ten minute walk from Battlebridge Basin. Traumatised by her horrific ordeal, Delia confided her fears to a friend. And in an odd premonition of what was to come, she said “He will do something. He will cut me to bits. Just like he had Melissa”. On Thursday 22nd December 1994, three days before Christmas, John Patrick Sweeney was released on bail from Pentonville Prison, just one mile from Delia’s home in Leighton Grove, and “The moment I discovered he was out, I was on edge. I knew he would be coming for me”. A few hours later, with the winter sun having set, a cold wind blowing and the first few flakes of snow settling, having finished her shift as a nurse, Delia cautiously cycled into Leighton Grove; lined on both sides with three-storey townhouses, the dark-lit street was empty, only illuminated by the flicker of TV sets, the twinkle of Christmas lights and the dull orange glow of a handful of street-lights. Swinging open the iron-gate, Delia pushed her bicycle along the cold stone path, up to the concrete step at the foot of the front door to her ground-floor flat; everything was quiet, calm and safe. Or so it seemed. As Delia nervously fumbled her keys into the lock, from the shadows, Sweeney pounced. With his arms flailing, his eyes wild and his teeth gritted; Sweeney began slashing and hacking at the tiny helpless woman, her trembling hands held defensively up to her screaming face, as gripped in both fists he held a kitchen knife and a two kilo axe. Delia later recalled “I saw my finger fly through the air, and I thought: ‘That’s it. I don’t want to live anymore”. In a sustained, sickening and frenzied attack, on the doorstep of her own home, Delia Balmer (the five foot three inch nurse, who was as timid as she was tiny) suffered multiple lacerations to her hands, arms, legs, face and chest; as well as two broken arms, deep stab wounds to her thighs and breast, an axe-wound to the head, a punctured lung, and the little finger of her left hand entirely severed. And lying in a puddle of her own blood, struggling to breathe as Sweeney stood over her, hacking away at the petrified woman, Delia could have died, but didn’t. Hearing her screams, her neighbour Jiles Allen dashed out of his house and armed with a baseball bat, Jiles chased Delia’s attacker down the street, as the five-foot ten-inch frame of Sweeney vanished into the shadows, being the kind of coward who’s too scared to pick on someone his own size. Believing she had breathed her last breath, Delia later said “I died that day” and thought that she had finally escaped her violent boyfriend forever, but when she awoke in the intensive care unit of the Royal Free Hospital (where she worked), Delia’s first thought was “Oh no, I am alive. Now what, hell?” Although physically, emotionally and psychologically scarred, for the six years that Sweeney was on the run from the Police, friends would caution her to watch her back, knowing that the demented red-head had unfinished business and would come looking for her. But for Delia, she didn’t care, her life was over, she’d reply “it’s too late. I am not scared anymore because I am not me anymore”. When interviewed by the Police, Delia told them everything; about the abuse, the torture, the rapes, about Sweeney and his confession that he’d murdered Melissa Halstead in Holland. And as the Police examined Sweeney’s belongings in Delia’s Leighton Grove flat, they saw not only his deeply disturbing collection of self-drawn art-work of footless, handless and headless women, drenched in a pool of blood, whose limbs had been hacked off, but also a green army surplus duffle-bag which contained a groundsheet, bin-bags, sisal ropes, gaffer tape, a claw-hammer and a rip carcass saw – a psychopath’s tool-kit to dispose of a human body and ensure that no-one would ever identify it. By Christmas 1994, four and a half years after the grisly discovery of an unidentified woman’s torso which was found floating in Holland’s Westersingel canal, even though the family of Melissa Halstead had hired an investigator and reported her missing; no-one knew where she was, what had happened to her, or that the headless body buried in an unmarked grave in a Rotterdam cemetery was her. And although, six years later, the ten dismembered body-parts found wrapped in six separate bags at Battlebridge Basin in the Regent’s Canal bore an uncanny similarity to the disposal of Melissa Halstead; the body in the canal was not Delia Balmer. That woman was still alive, for now, as she was yet to become a future ex-girlfriend of John Sweeney. On the run and desperate to keep his head down, Sweeney bunked in the Kentish Town flat of his old friend, Kevin Pratt, during which he bragged about his horrific attack on Delia, he confessed that he’d killed Melissa Halstead, and lied that there was a £10,000 reward for his capture. Needing to move on, he headed north to Northampton to pay an uninvited visit to his ex-wife Anne and his kids Michael and Tracey in their new home. Staying the night, Sweeney proceeded to drink and get stoned, as he told Anne that he had “done something really bad, which would make your hair stand on end”, but this time he confessed to the murder of Melissa Halstead and two others. Hitching a lift to his home-city of Liverpool to visit his mum, Sweeney used this downtime to taunt the detectives who were desperately searching for him. And on Monday 2nd January 1995, just eleven days after the terrifying attack on Delia Balmer in which he left her for dead, Sweeney sent a letter to the Police at Scotland Yard; bragging about his crimes, boasting how they’d never catch him and (in a cruel play-on-words) describing his assault on Delia as “an AXEident”, spelling the first part of the word AXE. Having run out of options, and being an easy-to-spot red-headed Liverpudlian carpenter, Sweeney fled the UK and headed into Europe where he’d spent the bulk of his life, learning to stay under the radar by living in hostels, working cash-in-hand jobs, and using an assumed name like Joe Johnson, Joe Carol and Michael Fawcett. And even though he needed to stay near drug-dealers to feed his habit of LSD, cannabis and heroin, in the circles he moved in, this wasn’t difficult. And so, for the next six years, John Patrick Sweeney disappeared. What happened during these years; where he went, what he did, and who he saw? Nobody knows. But by the turn of the last Millennium, in early 2000, John Sweeney had returned to England and (once again) he went looking for love, and her name was Paula Fields. (INTERSTITIAL) As the youngest of eleven children, born into a lower working-class family, in one of the most deprived areas of Liverpool, at the end of the 1970’s, life for Paula Fields and her siblings was tough. After the closure of the shipyards; mass unemployment and poverty followed as a badly underfunded council struggled to provide even the most basic of necessities such as heat, warmth, food and housing for thousands of struggling families, and yet her troubles had only begun. Aged just nine years old, Paula’s mother died, leaving herself and her ten older siblings to be split-up, with some farmed off to different relatives and others were placed into care. And growing up in an era dominated by demolition, tension, closures and the Toxteth race-riots, with no education or qualifications, Paula was desperate to become a good mum, so after the birth of her three children, in 1998 Paula made the brave step and moved to London, to seek a better life for her boys. But life down south wasn’t any better, and it would only get worse. As a single mum, who struggled to look after two of her three boys (both under five), she worked shifts in a local laundrette to scrape together enough money to fund a single-room in a local flea-pit hotel and half-way house called the Highbury Hotel, but within just two years; being broke, hungry and desperate, Paula had turned to prostitution, was hopelessly addicted to crack cocaine, and both of her boys had been taken into care. So, by the autumn of 2000, as a homeless penniless sex-worker and drug-addict with a chaotic lifestyle, a criminal record and absolutely zero chance of ever getting her kids back, Paula truly was at her lowest ebb when – in the Kilburn flat of his brother Tony - she first met and fell in love with a bushy bearded, red-headed carpenter who went by the nickname of “Scouse Joe”. And being instantly smitten with this cheeky-faced Liverpudlian who had a semi-regular income, easy access to drugs and a rented flat in Digby Crescent in Holloway, Paula moved into her new boyfriend’s flat; spending her days and nights off-her-face, surrounded by his pet tarantula, a bizarre collection of violent art, and his green canvas duffle-bag full of ropes, hammers and saws. As with Anne, Melissa and Delia; it wasn’t long before her life was being dominated by his paranoid deluded jealousy, as Sweeney controlled every aspect of her life, and what started with a never-ending succession of emotional blackmail, mental abuse and physical assaults, soon descended into death. At 9:30am, on Friday 15th December 2000, with the walls of the cramped one-bedroomed flat echoing to the regular sounds of shouting, swearing and domestic assaults, Paula Fields was last seen walking into Sweeney’s flat at Digby Road in Holloway; just two days after (it is believed) she had discovered his true identity, and two days before Sweeney moved out. Paula was never seen alive again. On the morning of Monday 19th February 2001, during the half-term holidays, two schoolboys were fishing along the banks of Battlebridge Basin at the back of King’s Cross when their hook snagged on something partially submerged and reeled in a heavy black bin-bag, which reeked of rotting flesh. Only this time, with Sweeney having cut up his victim into ten separate chunks, hacked through her wrists, elbows, knees, ankles and neck with the jagged tearing of his rip carcass saw, wrapped each piece in bin-bags and weighing them down with bricks, to stop her body-parts from bobbing on the surface of the canal as Melissa had, Sweeney meticulously cleaned the bath in his Digby Crescent flat, burned all Paula’s belongings and moved out. And with no clothes, no bag, no ID, no hands, no feet, no head, and almost all of the DNA evidence having washed away over the two months they’d spent festering in the water, all the Police had was a torso with no name, no face, no eyes, no teeth, no birth-marks, no operation scars, no fingerprints and no missing person’s report matching her description. Just like Melissa, Paula would be just another unclaimed body buried in an unmarked grave, as once again, Sweeney had got away with murder. Or he would have done, if he hadn’t made a big mistake… he left one victim alive. Following recent sightings of John Sweeney in London, Police issued all constables with the description of a red-headed Liverpudlian carpenter, who lived under various aliases, and was wanted for the rape, imprisonment, assault and the attempted murder of an Australian nurse called Delia Balmer. On Friday 23rd March 2001, a red-headed carpenter who went by the name of Joe Johnson was spotted working on a building site in Shoe Lane, Holborn. Knowing Sweeney’s history of violence and being wanted for firearms offenses, the Police took no chances, armed officers were called in and Sweeney was arrested. He had a seven-inch knife in his waistband and a loaded 9mm Luger pistol in his locker. Searching his new flat at Charteris Road in Finsbury Park, Police found two loaded sawn-off shotguns, a makeshift machete, a homemade garrotte wire, a large stash of bullets, a baseball bat, an axe, bin-bags, cable-ties, a groundsheet, a green canvas duffle-bag full of ropes, hammers and saws, and over two hundred deeply disturbing self-drawn paintings and poems depicting the violent rape, torture, dismemberment and death of various women. On one painting, Sweeney had written a poem which read “Poor old Melissa, chopped her up in bits, food to feed the fish, Amsterdam was the pits". Another was a drawing of a gravestone, which read “RIP Melissa Halstead, born 12th December 1956”. But many made reference to Delia and Anne; their bodies naked, their limbs bound and their heads hacked-off. For the attempted murder of Delia Balmer, John Patrick Sweeney was sentenced to a ten year term behind bars at Gartree Prison in Leicestershire. And as much as Sweeney had bragged to the Police about the many murders he had committed over the last twenty years, including; a devoted mid-30’s church-goer called Sue who Sweeney pursued to Switzerland, a mid-40’s Brazilian called Irani who lived in North London, and a late 30’s Columbian called Maria, all of whom were his ex-girlfriends and have never been seen since, as well as supposedly two German men who he had caught having sex with Melissa, with very little evidence, Police couldn’t arrest him. But then, another victim of John Sweeney would provide a vital clue, which would put Sweeney away forever, and she would do so, from beyond the grave. On 12th June 2007, following advances in genetic technology and coinciding with a review of unsolved murder cases, Dutch Police uploaded the DNA profile of an unidentified female whose decapitated body had been found, eighteen years earlier, floating in a Rotterdam canal… and they got a match. In a joint task force between Scotland Yard and the Dutch authorities, Police not only identified the bodies of Melissa Halstead and Paula Fields, but were able to connect their method of deaths, disposals and identify their killer. Of his known victims; Anne Bramley died of cancer in 2001 and Delia Balmer has since retired from nursing and released a book about her experiences entitled ‘Living with a Serial Killer’. And although the remains of Paula Field and Melissa Halstead were returned to their families (with Melissa’s ashes interned in her hometown of Dayton, Ohio), neither their hands, feet nor heads were ever found. On Monday 4th April 2011, 54 year old John Patrick Sweeney was found guilty of the murders of Melissa Halstead, Paula Fields and the attempted murder of Delia Balmer, and was given a whole-life-sentence, meaning that he will never be released. OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile. As mentioned before, if you are the victim of domestic abuse, or you have inflicted violence against a loved one, never be afraid to speak out, as professional help is only a phone-call away . This week’s recommended podcast of the week is Wining about Crime, hosted by Bonnie, Wining About Crime dives into the lives, habits and the disturbing psychology of some truly baffling serial-killers, spree-killers and murderers, always asking the big question; who they are, where they come from, and why they kill. Check out the promo for Wining About Crime. (Play Promo) Don’t forget to check out the Murder Mile website at murdermiletours.com, find us on Twitter or Instagram, or join the Murder Mile True-Crime Podcast discussion group on Facebook. A quick thank you this week to the fabulous people who have left five-star reviews of Murder Mile and have been truly fabulous on social media, they include; Des O’Connor, Natalie Prince Sanders, Carylynn Flannery, Simon Lupton, Robomanjay997, Terri Revvis Swann, Angizoink (I agree, more podcasts should have the word “arse” in it), Neil Marjorum and Alvaro Scorza. And of course a quick shout-out goes to two very different and equally excellent podcasts that I heartily recommend you check out; first is True-Crime Island, hosted by Cambo, who – like a hard-boiled Aussie news anchor – unearths the latest murder stories from around the world, so you don’t have to. Fuckalunga. And second is The Cleaning of John Doe; hosted by Vanessa, who each week takes you into the grisly, bloody and shocking world of her day-job as a crime-scene cleaner. Yes, you heard that correctly. Murder Mile was researched, written & performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. Next week’s episode… is the first of a four part series on The Blackout Ripper. Thank you for listening and sleep well. *** LEGAL DISCLAIMER *** The Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast has been researched using the original declassified police investigation files, court records, press reports and as many authentic sources as possible 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, therefore mistakes will be made. As stated at the beginning of each episode (and as is clear by the way it is presented) Murder Mile 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. It is not a full representation of the case, the people or the investigation in its entirety, and therefore should not be taken as such. It is also often (for the sake of clarity and drama) presented from a single person's perspective, usually (but not exclusively) the victim's, therefore it will contain a certain level of bias to get across this single perspective, which may not be the overall opinion of those involved or associated. *** LEGAL DISCLAIMER ***
Credits: The Murder Mile true-crime podcast was researched, written and recorded by Michael J Buchanan-Dunne, with the sounds recorded on location (where possible), and the music written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. Additional music was written and performed by various artists, as used under the Creative Common Agreement 4.0. A list of tracks used and the links are listed on the relevant transcript blog here
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 featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totaling 75 deaths, over just a one mile walk
1 Comment
Helene
30/3/2018 17:31:43
Brilliant.shocking and yet you brought it all to life. Excellent session. Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
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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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