Five time nominated BEST BRITISH TRUE-CRIME PODCAST at the True Crime Awards, Independent Podcast Award and The British Podcast Awards, and voted 4th Best True-Crime Podcast by This Week, iTunes Top 25 Podcast, Podcast Magazine's Hot 50, The Telegraph's Top 5, Crime & Investigation Top 20 True-Crime Podcasts, also seen on BBC Radio, Sky News, The Guardian and TalkRadio's Podcast of the Week.
This is a ten-part crossover series written and created by Murder Mile and True Crime Enthusiast. Parts A to F (covering the murders that serial killer Patrick MacKay confessed or was suspected of) are available via Murder Mile, and Parts 1 to 4 (covering the murders he was convicted of, as well as his life, his upbringing and his trial is available via the True Crime Enthusiast podcast.
PATRICK MACKAY: TWO SIDES OF A PSYCHOPATH: This is Part F of F of Patrick MacKay: Two Sides of a Psychopath, about the killing of Ivy Davies. On the night of Sunday 3rd of February 1975, between 10:30pm and midnight, 48-year-old café owners and single parent of seven children Ivy Davies was brutally beaten to death in her own home by an unknown assailant. It has remained unsolved for 50 years. But was it British serial killer Patrick MacKay and one of the eight additional killings he was suspected of or confessed to? This series explores the killings he confessed to, and which he committed.
Part F of F by Murder Mile covers the murder of Stephanie Britton & Christopher Martin:
SOURCES: a selection sourced from various archives:
MUSIC:
UNEDITED TRANSCRIPT: In the lead up to his trial in November 1975, 23-year-old Patrick MacKay – the drunk, the druggie, the bully, and the pointless petty thief who many said would amount to nothing - had become a celebrity. Mackay was front-page news for almost a year; with his stage-managed photos under every headline, his confession of “I killed eleven people” printed in bold, his memoir repeated verbatim, his nicknames cementing his legacy, and his name preceded by maniac, monster, psychopath and now serial killer. What began as a petty and pathetic series of half-witted robberies to fund his alcoholism, culminated in an 18-month “campaign of violence and terror” with the bulk committed in the last two months. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t neat, and possibly spawned from the accidental killing of Isabella Griffiths in a short burst of rage (as any of the 23+ old frail ladies he robbed and assaulted could have been), the press bought the lie, as MacKay wasn’t a thug, but a bright, erudite storyteller who sought infamy. Questioned by Detective Superintendent John Bland at Brixton Prison in April 1975, MacKay admitted “all I want to do is to be frank and honest”, having admitted to three provable murders, “but before I start, I have got another murder I want to get off my mind” – being the drowning of a homeless man at Hungerford Bridge, and confessing or suspected of a total of eight, that took his tally to eleven kills. It was the moment which made him famous, but caught in a series of lies, he would also be forgotten. Title: Patrick MacKay: Two Sides of a Psychopath – Part F. His arrest record dating back to when he was 12 was hardly the stuff of legend; 1964, aged 12, he got 3-years’ probation for stealing garden ornaments and setting fire to a church curtain; 1966, a 12-month discharge for breaking a window; 1968, 2-years’ probation for GBH and 1 day’s prison for robbing a boy of a watch; 1973, three convictions, burglary (while drunk) and issuing a forged cheque, possessing an offensive weapon (while drunk) and damage to property (while drunk and disorderly), with his longest stretch being 4 months for burgling Reverand Brack’s vicarage where he stole nothing. Luckily for him, the newspapers were too distracted by the unprovable details of his alleged cruelty to animals and his so-called obsession with the Nazis to explore his paltry criminal past, or his confession. Of the eight murders he was suspected of or confessed to; Heidi Mnilk’s case was high profile, so parts he could recall, but still he got details wrong, and there was no proof he was there; he confessed to Mary Hynd’s, but had to be coerced by detectives; Stephanie Britton & Christopher Martin he denied killing, possibly to protect his legacy; Leslie Goodman he confessed only to the robbery, maybe to give his murders a sense of mystery; and Sarah Rodmell, he denied, perhaps owing to the sexual assault. Or, he could be innocent of all six of those murders, as there’s no solid evidence to convict him. As for the unnamed homeless man he supposedly drowned, MacKay said “I lost my temper. I grabbed him by his pants and neck, and heaved him over the edge… the water sprayed up. He must have gone under, and then I saw him come up. He started splashing… and went under again”. Police pulled three bodies from the river, none matched his description. But as a film fan who was inspired by the 1970s craze for serial killer movies, A Clockwork Orange was withdrawn from circulation in 1973 due to copy-cat violence, especially one scene where a homeless man is murdered. So was MacKay’s story a lie? It made perfect sense for MacKay to lie about killing ‘eleven people’, of which eight, he later denied. Of the killers who existed in his era or were popular in the crime books he read; George Chapman ‘The Borough Poisoner’, Trevor Hardy ‘The Beast of Manchester’; Ronald Jebson the ‘Babes in the Wood’ killer, John Straffen (who was Britain’s longest serving prisoner until MacKay) and Graham Young ‘The Tea Cup poisoner’, all had three confirmed kills, but are still largely forgotten by the general public. Whereas to be infamous and cement his everlasting legacy, three confirmed kills wouldn’t be enough; John George Haigh ‘the Acid Bath murderer’ had 6, John Reginald Christie of 10 Rillington Place had 8, Thomas Neil Cream and the Moors Murderers both had 5, Gordon Cummins ‘The Blackout Ripper’ had 4 but is mostly unknown due to the war, Jack the Ripper had an unprovable canonical 5 (although who needs proof with a sensationalist story), and with a new breed of killers – like The Zodiac with 5 and Edmund Kemper with 10 – by tomorrow, MacKay’s forgotten headlines could be used to wrap chips. MacKay would have known that his pitiful backstory lacked credibility, that his accusations of sadism were paper-thin, that his photos and quotes were clearly curated, that many detectives felt he was “an inveterate liar” who “lies about trivial matters, even when it is unnecessary”, and - with all three killings he was convicted of being manslaughters, not murders – his ploy could easily be picked apart. Since his release from Wandsworth Prison, having planned a “campaign of violence and terror”, across January to March 1975, there was a clear escalation in his attacks on wealthy elderly ladies across Chelsea, Belgravia and Finchley - with an erroneous attack on Sunday 3rd of February 1975 at Red Lion Square in Holborn where he violently robbed a lady on her doorstep of £25 and an ‘inscribed silver pen’. His robberies were an almost daily event, ending with the killing of Father Crean on 21st of March. When arrested at the Cowdrey’s home at 48 Grantham Road in Stockwell, MacKay was sat on the sofa, hungover, and when asked what he would do that day, he said “dunno, probably get pissed again”. By then, MacKay had killed three people; so why did he stop, why did he then confess to killing eight more, and then, withdrew his confession? Of those he either confessed to or was suspected of - they were all as similar in method and motive as they were dissimilar, and as provable in evidence as they were disprovable - but unlike the first seven killings, the eighth had one thing that the others lacked… …DNA evidence. Ivy Lillian Davies, known to her customers as ‘Aunty Ivy’ was a 48-year-old café owner from the seaside town of Westcliff-on-Sea on the south-east coast of England in the county of Essex; 50 miles west of MacKay’s hunting ground of Chelsea and Belgravia, and 28 miles north of his hometown of Dartford. Born on the 30th of December 1926, little was reported about her early years, but described as a well-liked and popular woman with a bubbly personality and a “good morning” for everyone, there was a great pain in her heart and an intense loneliness she would hide from her few friends and customers. In her early twenties, having met and married a soldier whose surname was Slark, Ivy had lived a very unsettled life being bounced between Army bases over the UK, as the Cold War slowly heated up. As a squaddie’s wife, she had just one purpose, to bear children, and from the late 1940s, eight would follow; Patricia, Ivy Junior, Susan, Victor, David, Stephen and Carol, with Karen dying aged 3 months. With no money, no freedom, and a husband who was physically violent and mentally abusive to this small dark-haired woman with thick-rimmed glasses, for the sake of her children, Ivy sustained more than a decade of torment and torture at the hands of a brute, by taking the beatings to protect them. In 1960, plucking up a gallon of courage, Ivy divorced him, and moving from Yorkshire in the north of England, she fled from his fists to the seaside town of Westcliff-on-sea to start again, as a single mother of seven young children, who – when and if she had a second to herself - earned money as a waitress. Her whole family needed a fresh start, and although an old fashioned and impoverished poor part of the country whose main income was furnished by a throng of tourists in the summer months, its sandy beaches, crisp sea air and seaside fairs made it a good place for a young family living on benefits. But always seeking love, the next man in Ivy’s life came with a complication none of them had anticipated. Again, being a soldier, this time based in nearby Shoeburyness, he loved Ivy and wanted to marry her, but being transferred to Colchester, he flatly refused to raise another man’s child, and Ivy had seven. Why she made this decision is something we can never know; maybe she was terrified of loneliness, was bullied by another brute into making a bad choice or was traumatised by the abuse she’d suffered, but with the exception of her two eldest daughters – Patricia and Ivy Junior - her five youngest children were put into care at the Seaview Children’s Home in Shoeburyness, with Vic’, her eldest of three sons, ending up in foster care, where he suffered abuse, which changed the course of his life for the worse. Vic later said “she wasn’t the angel they made her out to be”, she was ‘cold’ to those the children she had abandoned, and with the relationship with the soldier lasting just eight months, although she tried to get Susan, Victor, David, Stephen and Carol back from foster care, Social Services had said no. This was the side of her life that she hide from her customers, with her face always bright and bubbly… …when her heart was plagued with guilt and regret. Despite her past, Ivy made the best of her present in Westcliff-on-Sea, an old fashioned seaside town full of hotels, B&Bs, a golden mile of arcades and fairs with a famous pier, and in the Orange Tree, a ‘greasy spoon’ café – on the Western Esplanade and built into the railway arches – since 1968, she’d worked for Ernest Hasler as a waitress, but in 1972, having saved up enough, she became the owner. Nicknamed ‘Aunty Ivy’, she was a popular and well-liked face in Westcliff. With the café far from busy off-season, she made ends meet by working part-time as a school cleaner, she had a small but close circle of friends who she played bingo with, and plagued by loneliness, she had started dating again. And although she had fought to rebuild her life, she was haunted by her past. In 1965, when her son Vic’ was just 8 years old, he tried to rekindle a small hint of a relationship with his estranged mother. It’s something this young boy would do for almost decade, even though it was strained and frosty. But by the January of 1975, with Vic’s life having hit the skids and descended into a petty theft, aged 18, when Ivy found out that he had been locked up in a Young Offenders Institute in Northampton, she wrote him a letter. He recalled “it was a ‘Dear John’ letter… she said she was disgusted with me, and told me she never wanted to see me again”. For the second time in his life, his mother had rejected him, and with her brutal murder just days away, as much as he would want to, he never saw her again. Sunday 3rd of February 1975 was a typical late winter’s day being mild with a little drizzle. At 6am, as was her routine, 48-year-old Ivy opened up The Orange Tree café. Being off-season, it was quiet except for the usual crowd ordering fry-ups, scrambled eggs, beans on toast and mugs of tea. It was an unexceptional day, just as the week and month prior had been, with no incidents or strangers. At 5:30pm, the sun-set as Ivy locked-up the café, and although a business owner, as women couldn’t have their own a bank accounts until later that year (thanks to the Sexual Discrimination Act of 1975), wearing a blue-green dress, she was seen by her friend, Ernest Hasler, carrying the day’s takings – and although that moment would have been the perfect opportunity for a thief, nobody robbed her. By 6pm, again as was typical, she returned home, alone, to 21A Holland Road, a little bungalow neatly hidden behind a set of two-storey Victorian houses - a place you could only find, if you knew about it. That evening, she had planned to meet up at Palace Bingo in Southend with Margaret Jewry, a friend and fellow café owner who was the mother of the pop star Alvin Stardust, who looked remarkably like her, but instead, she stayed at home, made a cuppa, and having hidden the takings in her oven (which she did every day, as she didn’t have a safe), having got into her nightdress, she watched the telly. On ATV, at 7pm was ‘Master Of Melody’, at 7:25pm was ‘Sunday Night At The London Palladium’, at 8:20pm was ‘Once Before I Die’, a 1966 war drama starring Ursula Andress, with the news at 10:15pm, and closedown at 10:30pm. We’ve no idea what she watched, or who she may have watched it with… …but right there, on the rug, it’s likely her killer had left his DNA. At 10:30am the next morning, when Madeline, a friend of Ivy’s daughter Pat noticed that the café was still locked, with the help of Ivy’s neighbour Stella Zammitt, they gained access to the bungalow with her own keys, and Madeline screamed as Stella ran out crying “oh god, there’s blood everywhere”. Ivy had been brutalised by a ‘maniac’, and her killing sent shockwaves across this small seaside town. With the investigation headed up by Detective Chief Inspector Peter Croxford of Southend CID, motive was key to establish. Ivy was described as “a gentle lady who wouldn’t hurt a soul”, and “a very lonely person who didn’t have any real friends”, but with no signs of a break in and the door locked from the outside, Vic’ stated “she wouldn’t open the door to anyone”, so it’s unlikely she had let a stranger in. As for theft, DCI Croxford said “jewellery was left on the television set… and £20 in cash nearby”, a red or white purse was missing, and £1800 (or £19,800 today) was found in the oven where she’d left it. The rooms hadn’t been ransacked, but then maybe this was a kill for thrills, or a robbery gone wrong? No break-in, no theft, a superficial ransacking, and no clear motive – but was it MacKay? Found slumped on her living room settee, dressed in her nightdress, although her killer had attempted to strangle her with an unstated ligature, Ivy had been brutally bludgeoned about the head by “a heavy object with considerable force”. Blood had spattered up the walls, across the ceiling, over the floor, and with her skull smashed open, someone had attacked her with a hatred, or a short burst of rage. With detectives keeping the weapon a secret to snare the killer when questioned, the press wrongly claimed it was “an axe” - which is why it may have been linked to Father Crean’s killing - when it was a 20-inch-long, 3lb pry bar made of high tensile steel, used by mechanics in factories with gear wheels. It didn’t belong in the house, yet it had been dumped in a curtained alcove, not far from the body. The crime scene was strange, but this wasn’t the oddest detail about Ivy’s senseless killing; as with Dr Cameron the pathologist putting her time of death at ‘around midnight’, with the TV schedule finishing 90 minutes before, her killer may have put the telly on to obfuscate his true intent, and although, no sexual assault was detected on this semi-clad woman, on the rug before her, lay a semen stain… …but being two decades before DNA was used in modern policing, it was missed by forensics. In total, 3000 people were interviewed, 300 friends, family and associates were fingerprinted, a false sighting of Ivy at Palace Bingo in Southend turned out to be her doppelganger, Margaret Jewry, and – of the Police’s likely suspects – her son Vic’ had a cast iron alibi being in prison, a PhotoFIt of a late 30s man with greying sandy blond hair pointed to an innocent café regular, a “tall, dark-haired man in his early 30s” (similar to the man thought to be MacKay, as previously seen as The Mercer’s) was spotted near the train station, and although – after his confession – Detective Superintendent Simon Dinsdale stated Mackay “was a figure in the investigation… but as some kind of vagrant, he was ruled out”. Detective Chief inspector Ray Newman confirmed, “he wasn’t seen as a likely or a possible suspect”. On the 7th of April 1975 at Southend Coroner’s Court, after just five minutes, the jury returned a verdict that she was “murdered by person or persons unknown”, and although the investigation continued, soon every lead would be exhausted. Ivy Davies was buried at Sutton Road cemetery on 17th of April… …and until further evidence or a confession presented itself, the case had stalled. Over the years, many theories and sightings have been presented. In 2017, a former waitress at the café claimed Ivy was killed by was an escaped patient from Runwell mental hospital posing as a doctor who said his name was Patrick MacKay. Ivy’s son, Vic, also said detectives told him “Mackay had signed on the dole in Southend”, which proved he was nearby during the week of her murder. But this could be Police coercion as seen in Mary Hynds’s murder, as we know where he was the night Ivy was killed. In the unreliable book, Psychopath, it states “MacKay said he knew the café and admitted that he had contemplated robbing Mrs Davies… but he had not been in Southend since 1972”, even though there no provable origin for this quote, coming from the source who said MacKay had visited ‘The Mercer’s. Several newspapers also state “MacKay had bragged in Brixton Prison about Ivy’s murder”, but again, there’s no name, no date and no origin for this quote, and although sensational and feeding the legacy MacKay crafted, it also lets her real killer walk free, having never been punished for his heinous crime. In 2025, Vic, Ivy’s son told tabloid newspaper The Sun: “the way she was killed was his MO. She was ripped apart on one side of the body. Whoever did it had undressed my mother, put her in a nightdress and put her on her bad side, then turned the TV on”. Details which don’t appear in any other reliable source, but also (if true) facts which point to this not being a killing by MacKay, but by a sexual sadist. On an unspecified date in May 1975, after his infamous (but shaky) confession, MacKay was driven in a police van to the Orange Tree café in Westcliff-on-sea and Ivy’s home at 21A Holland Road. He stated he didn’t recognise either, and wrote in his memoir, “I was never charged with this and I would think not too. It certainly wasn’t me they wanted”. Which makes sense as it’s unlikely he was even there. On the night of Sunday 3rd of February 1975, after Ivy had locked-up her café and headed home, Patrick MacKay – a 6 foot 2 inch, stoutly built, mixed race man with a soft voice, who never disguised his face in any of his attacks – robbed an elderly lady on the doorstep of her home in Red Lion Square, Holborn in London. He stole £25 and an ‘inscribed silver pen’, and she later identified her robber as Mackay. Why would he kill a stranger in a place he barely knew, and how could he be in two places at once? The most likely theory was that, being lonely and dating again, Ivy had invited a man back to her home. In 2005, 30 years after her murder, with this cold case being re-investigated, Police discovered that when Ivy’s bungalow was cleared out, a neighbour had kept her bloodied rug. It hadn’t been touched in decades, and with advances in forensic technology, on it was not only Ivy’s blood, but a semen stain. As a convicted murderer, Patrick MacKay’s DNA had been retrospectively added to the database after it was set-up in 1995, along with his fingerprints. A comparison was made, but it didn’t link to him. In November 2006, Essex Police arrested a 68-year-old unnamed man from Basildon who lived near Ivy at the time, and according to John Lucas’ reliable book on MacKay: “when Ivy rebuffed his advances, he lashed out with the pry bar. Covered in blood, he crept back to his own house… confessed to his partner, and she returned with him to Ivy’s house to make the scene look like a burglary”. But lacking sufficient evidence, the Crown Prosecution Service decided not to charge him, and he was bailed. MacKay was charged with two of the eight additional murders, only this was not one of them… …but that’s also part of the problem with his legacy as a serial killer, that he’d made his name as a liar. While incarcerated, MacKay was approached by an associate of Stanley Rogers, who was awaiting trial for the murder of 10-year-old Alison Chadwick whose body was found in a sack. MacKay was offered £15,000 and £20 per week for 15 years to confess to the killing, but tried to blackmail Rogers instead. MacKay was “an inveterate liar”, everybody knew it, and although he’d told Detective Superintendent Bland that he was “relieved that at last I was telling someone what I had done”, he later said, “I deny any killings other than the three I admit. I can’t recall any incident categorically linking me to these”. Tried at the Old Bailey on Friday the 21st of November 1975 in Court Two, this minor celebrity wouldn’t get the attention he desired or required to fully cement his legacy, as with his legal team fighting to get him convicted of ‘manslaughter by diminished responsibility’ and not ‘murder’ to ensure he would be sent to a psychiatric hospital rather than a prison, his confession to killing eleven was dismissed. In a short and perfunctory trial, MacKay was declared sane, and diagnosed with a ‘severe psychopathic disorder’ but not a mental illness, convicted of the manslaughters of Adele Price, Isabella Griffiths and Father Anthony Crean, Justice Milmo sentenced him to a minimum of three life sentences to be served concurrently, and held on Her Majesty’s Pleasure, he was warned that he many never be released. The killings of Heidi Mnilk, Mary Hynds, Stephanie Britton, Christopher Martin, Leslie Goodman, Sarah Rodmell, Ivy Davies and the unnamed homeless man (if he existed) remain unsolved. Of those, MacKay stated “I’m glad I wasn’t done for those others”, and although unprovable, Scotland Yard said “we are satisfied that he is responsible for 10 killings” with the only one they didn’t think was him being Heidi’s. MacKay was never sent to Broadmoor – alongside the likes of Peter Sutcliffe, Robert Maudsley, and later Peter Bryan and Daniel Gonzalez – instead, being sane but volatile, he served his time in Category A prisons, where as “one of the most violent prisoners”, he attacked staff and held a teacher hostage. In March 1995, at the end of his minimum term, an Independent Parole Board declared “his risk is too high to be safely managed in the community”, so he remained behind bars, later making him “the UK's longest-serving continuous prisoner”. But growing older and passive, since 2017 he has been housed at HMP Leyhill, a low-security men’s open prison, and has been seen on monitored day trips in Bristol. Now aged 73 and changing his name to David Groves, it is uncertain whether he will ever be released. He’s the man that the law is too terrified to release, that society doesn’t want back, and with the truth about his crimes barely known to the wider public, as Vic’, Ivy’s son sums-up "everyone knows he did more. He hasn’t shown any remorse" – even though there no hard evidence to prove that he had. So, why isn’t Patrick MacKay as infamous as other killers like Shipman, Christie or Haigh? (End) Like his life, his legacy had no consistency. As a boy, his early crimes were nothing more than random acts of robbery to fund his alcoholism, with the sadistic cruelty (he was later famous for) only were there to gain attention. He was lost, alone, confused, angry, and bounced between institutions which didn’t care about him, being told that he was worth nothing, and diagnosed as a psychopath aged 11, he was ignored, except when he was bad. Like his robberies, his killings were unplanned. The first, Isabella Grffiths, was a rage-fuelled robbery which went wrong; the second, Adele Price, was similar (as many others could have been); Father Crean’s killing was personal, and then MacKay quit, as he couldn’t commit to anything, even murder. And that’s the problem, not only did he repeatedly lie, not only did he fail to provide proof, but also, in all of his murders - whether he was convicted of, confessed to, or suspected of - all are inconsistent. In his own memoir written before his trial, MacKay acknowledged “my life was wasted. I now realise that it is now wasted forever to rot… when I look at myself, I could put a bullet through my head for the kind of bloody life that I have had, but I do not know who would do me that service. I have often thought to myself, whenever I am alone, that it would be the best thing I could ever have done”, as all he brought to the world was pain and misery to others – like his father – and his legacy was ruined. With just three confirmed kills to his name, MacKay has been usurped in the pantheon of serial killers; as Nilsen had 12, Sutcliffe had 13, Dahmer had 17, Bundy had 20, and Shipman had 218 confirmed. If he had really killed 11, he would be infamous, but being convicted not of murder but the lesser charge of manslaughter, not being ‘wilful murders’, his manslaughters make him ineligible to be a serial killer. As a late decision to make something of his life, MacKay had pushed his luck just a little too far… …so now, he’s not remembered as a infamous serial killer, but as a serial liar. That was the final part of Patrick MacKay: Two Sides of a Psychopath by Murder Mile UK True Crime. Parts 1 of 4 (covering in detail the killings of Father Crean, Isabella Griffith and Adele Price, as well as MacKay’s life, crimes and trial) are available now via as part of this cross-over series with the True Crime Enthusiast podcast, with all six parts by Murder Mile available now also. Just search ‘Patrick MacKay: Two Sides of a Psychopath’, or click on the link in the show-notes. 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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