Jeremy Bamber: Cui bonō? Sample

I corresponded by letter and email with Jeremy Bamber for six years from 2011, he also telephoned me on a regular basis. The following is a sample from the draft of my book, entitled above and based on those letters and phones calls, along with my discoveries around the failings and omissions and apparent collusion during the investigation, trial and conviction, resulting in what must be the gravest miscarriage of justice in the UK. It is a frank and personal reflection on my interaction with Jeremy, his campaign team and others.

Copyright © Poppy Ann Miller™

All content is supported by documented evidence.

Awakening:

On 28 October 1986, Jeremy Bamber was tried and found guilty of the murders of his entire family, they being his adoptive parents; June Bamber, an active member of the local church community, father, (Ralph) Nevill Bamber, an agricultural farmer and magistrate, Jeremy's adoptive sister, Sheila Caffell, and her six-year-old twin sons. The jury had struggled to agree a verdict and returned to ask Mr Justice Drake for further guidance. Drake advised that on the evidence of the moderator (gun silencer) alone they could find Jeremy Bamber guilty. One jury member has since been quoted as saying that they did what the judge told them to do.

Several writers and television producers have sought to elaborate on the events that took place in the small hours of the morning of 7 August 1985; some with more integrity than others. The Bamber family tree and history of the local area are easily researched and are not the purpose of this book.

I am not blind to the look on the face of many when I dare to say that I’m writing a book about Jeremy Bamber’s innocence or the silent cry of, ‘not another conspiracy theory!’ Nevertheless Jeremy Bamber has never changed his story, has always protested his innocence. If he had ‘confessed’ to the crime once in prison he would likely have been placed on a rehabilitation scheme, qualified for parole and would no doubt have been out after twenty five years or less, instead of serving his thirty second (at the time of writing) behind bars, currently at HMP Wakefield.

I recall the images splashed across newspapers for weeks. The Mirror ran with, ‘Mother Shoots Twin Sons and Parents’ with photographs of White House Farm, the imposing estate of the Bambers, situated in several acres of land in Tolleshunt D’Arcy, Essex and just a few miles from my home. I was appalled at the senseless brutality, surely the act of a deranged mind. Those poor little boys, their whole lives ahead of them; shot in the head and heart-breakingly one appeared to still be sucking his thumb when found in his bed.

Sheila, having been previously diagnosed with Schizophrenia and recently discharged from hospital was spending a few days with June and Nevill. Jeremy Bamber lived approximately three miles away from Tolleshunt D’Arcy in Goldhanger but worked with his father at White House Farm.

With all the evidence pointing to Sheila Caffell, in a psychotic rage, having carried out the murders then turning the gun on herself, within the first few days much of the forensic evidence was destroyed when carpets and other items were taken from the house and burned.

A month or so later the investigation took a different turn after the Bamber’s relatives had taken a sound moderator to Essex Police stating it was found in the gun cupboard at White House Farm. This started a whole new chain of events resulting in Jeremy Bamber being charged with the murders, convicted on a majority ten-to-two verdict and handed down a twenty five year sentence.

I didn’t question the outcome, I presumed Jeremy Bamber was guilty as charged, there must have been sound evidence to convict. I trusted the judicial system, our British police, and to a certain extent, the media. I recall at a later date being bewildered on reading of his appeals, wondering why he would re-submit the same evidence but at that time I didn’t appreciate the complex nature and criteria of the UK appeal system.

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My journey began one evening in August 2011. Attempting to relax after a busy day, pouring a drink and grabbing the remote I started frustratingly channel-hopping for some easy-to-watch TV. With my gaze drawn to a programme entitled ‘Crimes That Shook Britain’ and my thumb hovering, succumbing to curiosity I let it fall onto 'select'.

I remained motionless as the credits rolled down the screen, trying to take in what I had just viewed. I had no sense of disbelief at the content, only the disbelief that the UK justice system may have incarcerated an innocent man for twenty-five years. So was this programme based on facts? After all you see some rubbish on certain channels but then the company that produced the series, Title Role, is considered reputable. They appear to use credible, investigative journalism such as in their tragic unfolding of events in the life of little Victoria Climbié, which as a Personal Adviser within the Care System I took great interest in. The child, tortured and starved to death by her guardians, under the full gaze of Social Services, health professionals and the education system. That atrocity led to a public inquiry and produced major changes nationwide in child protection legislation and multi-agency working.

Sipping on my glass of red I wandered through the kitchen and out into my garden, admiring the success of my green-fingered efforts in such a restricted growing environment. Revelling in the surge of pleasure that the blackbirds had honoured my plot again and that their sheer perseverance in nest-building in the grapevine overhanging the pergola had once again produced a late brood.

Sinking into a lounger by the pond, I pondered…why would a prisoner keep providing the same information for appeal, having had it dismissed by the courts previously? The familiar trickle of the water-pump going about its bubbly business felt comforting and reassuring though momentarily replaced by a wave of pity that this simple pleasure and the freedom I take for granted is denied to those locked up for twenty three hours a day; relieved with just one hour in the exercise yard which as I witnessed during my time tutoring young offenders, in the winter is often after dark.

Jeremy Bamber - innocent? Lots of prisoners sing the same song but this was such a massive story and he is a ‘local lad’ so I wasted little time in searching on-line for contact information for the Jeremy Bamber Campaign team, sent a brief email, can I help and how? I received a reply that same evening, greatly appreciative of my support, adding that speaking or writing to my MP, John Whittingdale, would be the most useful, initial action to take. They were very hopeful of John Whittingdale’s input as he lived in the same village as Jeremy. In particular, his advice with a Freedom of Information (FOI) request to Essex Police. The campaign team founder explained that in order to apply for another appeal it was vital to have access to certain evidence. She said that Jeremy’s not asking to view everything and in any case that’s not permitted under Common Law. He’s asking for specific items to present to the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC) a body established in 1997 primarily to investigate miscarriages of justice. The CCRC then decide if the case has any merit, whether it fulfils the criteria for passing the ‘real possibility test’, if so it’s referred to the Court of Appeal. I didn’t understand the process of appeal back then; I have since learnt that the appellant has to provide 'fresh' evidence. How a man in prison is expected to find fresh evidence is another story.

After booking a meeting with John Whittingdale at his surgery I wrote to Jeremy. My letters to Jeremy are all handwritten and I regret having not kept copies; though have saved some of my emails sent to him via the ‘email a prisoner service’ and of course all his letters and cards to me.

Jeremy’s reply was dated 27 August 2011, five A4 sides, handwritten in capitals; he clearly wants to be read. He tells of his childhood, his happy days at Maldon Court School, virtually a stone's throw from my home and of his favourite teachers, Miss Carter and Miss Robinson. Of his French lessons from aged six and the French au pairs that looked after him until he was eight. He reflects on his memories of a lovely little school, happy days and recalls how his mother would nervously drive him up the steep Market Hill to school, even in wet and icy weather.

Jeremy Bamber was born on Friday 13 January 1961. Both parents were employed at Buckingham Palace, his father, a married army sergeant, Leslie Marsham, his mother the eighteen year old daughter of the then senior chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Eric Jay,  Jeremy Marsham was given up for adoption a few months later although his parents did eventually marry.  A year prior to the murders at White House Farm, in 1984, Jeremy’s father had pinned the announcement of Prince Harry’s birth on the gates of Buckingham Palace.

Nevill Bamber grew a variety of crops which Jeremy would deliver to local outlets. Pentland Javelin potatoes were grown especially for Copsey, a local fish shop, now also a restaurant. Jeremy writes that delivering potatoes to Copsey is full of happy memories. The owner would give him a portion of chips made from them and Jeremy adds, No other potato, chips like it. He asks if the shop is still there and speculates as to whether one of the sons now runs it. Copsey is still in business and I decide that in with my reply I’ll enclose a photo of it assuring Jeremy that I see us both there celebrating his freedom. Extremely enthusiastic about my appointment with Whittingdale Jeremy asks that I advise him that if he felt he could be proactive he could have all the information the campaign team has. He continues,

   It’s only by a stroke of pure luck that I can expose the wrong doing in my case – a copy of the City of London Police (COLP) report that had been under Public Interest Immunity (PII) was given to me by mistake - because of this I know as fact who did what, when and why. …the police edited so many statements without permission of those who wrote them. Many people covered this up over the years.

And further down the same page,

…blind eyes being turned for career progression. Ewen Smith, my own appeal solicitor, becoming a CCRC commissioner needs an explanation in the light of what we know - sad to think it but the police sent him a file of PII material by mistake prior to my appeal. As soon as the police realised they told Ewen he must not tell me or my barrister about the contents of this file – he didn’t tell us! I wonder what was in that file?

Not then knowing much about PII at all I did a bit of research. Public Interest Immunity (PII) is used in cases where the government feel that specific information is required to be kept ‘under wraps’ for a certain number of years, usually thirty. For example one application of PII covers top secret government agenda as in the case of war or military issues which may be a national risk therefore not appropriate for public viewing. Why would a family murder warrant PII? Jeremy’s final words bring a lump to my throat, I’ll be out on bail soon.

My job-in-hand was to focus on preparing for my meeting with Whittingdale. I can talk for England but I was new to the jargon, the ‘legalese’ and wanted to feel, and sound, confident. Pulling out my laptop, logging on I searched the campaign website and mentally ingested everything I could realistically hold in mind and felt I could speak on convincingly.

It was the 3 September 2011 when I walked up Maldon High Street to the Moot Hall and where John Whittingdale was holding his surgery. Confident I was not, all still very new to this. Impossible to know the whole case or anywhere near it but what I did know about and planned to focus on, were two Court Orders 2001/2002 served on Essex Police that they disclose specific files and documents relating to Jeremy’s case and which are still being withheld. The campaign team have since outlined these in a Disclosure Booklet.

I arrived in time for my appointment to discover several other people already waiting. A fifty something male clerk, I suppose one could call him, was standing ahead of a queue of people with a sheet of paper. I presumed it was to provide Whittingdale with a list of constituents waiting to see him. When my turn came I was surprised to discover that I was not shown a list of names but handed an A4 sheet of blank paper with a box for my signature at the bottom. I enquired as to the purpose; pointing at a chair the clerk mumbled something about the possibility of Whittingdale doing some work for me. I avoided the seat and as I hadn’t been inside the Moot Hall before I spent my waiting-time taking in my surroundings. Eventually I heard my name and was directed up a flight of stairs to a small room where Whittingdale was sitting at a desk. He indicated to the chair opposite. I sat down. He took the sheet of paper - I took a deep breath.

Strolling home, mentally regurgitating the tone and content of our meeting, my initial feeling was again one of disbelief. Bet it would be a different story if it were one of his own. Turning left into Market Hill instead of going directly to my house, I make tracks down to where the road bridge crosses the River Blackwater. A member of the Turtle Clan, according to the Ameri-Indian tradition, I am drawn to water, its company providing a sympathetic medium when faced with decisions, watching my troubles float out with the tide or simply navel-gazing. Even when the tide is out, this historic fishing village, which some ignoramuses refer to as Maldon-on-the-mud, remains precious to the likes of me. With the wading birds and wildlife dependant on it, when the setting sun throws a veil of golds and bronzes across the salt marshes, Maldon mud can be beautiful. Stepping down from the shallow wall by the Welcome Sailor public house to the delicious salty air and crunch of empty mollusc shells, I review my main points.

To my concerns that Essex Police continue to hold thousands of undisclosed documents on Jeremy Bamber which could help prove his innocence, and how would I get my hands on them, Whittingdale stated that he could-not-interfere with the law. When I asked to whom would I go when the very system set-up to facilitate and administer justice is itself involved in promoting miscarriages of justice, he assured me that there is no-one else, that he believes in the workings of our justice system. He - ‘believes in the law’ and that Jeremy’s continued protestation of innocence is upsetting his family. I had taken various documents to leave with him but he wasn’t interested saying that he believed Jeremy Bamber to be guilty and that he’s blaming everyone else instead of taking responsibility for his actions; that he, Whittingdale, had been out to see the relatives and they, ‘don’t think much of him at all’.

Whilst I don’t defend Whittingdale’s response in the face of the evidence before him, I do understand something of his thought processes. It is hard to accept that not just one department in the UK justice system but that many may have colluded in the lie. But why? And if they did, what is it that made this particular group of people do so? Now it might be that Julie Mugford, the relatives and Essex Police were subject to different motivations. Mugford - jealous, having discovered that Jeremy had been two-timing her, also possibly frightened of being implicated in that by telling Essex Police that Jeremy had been planning the killings for some time and had told her, ‘tonight is the night’, she could be charged under Joint Enterprise legislation. My earlier research on Mugford threw up the fact that she and her friend Elizabeth Rimmington, together and independently, had been involved in cheque fraud, smuggling drugs into the UK from Canada and burglary but that no charges were brought. The relatives? Possibly threatened with losing their financial status if Jeremy inherited the property - but Essex Police officers?

Tempted to dismiss my efforts to woo Whittingdale as a waste of time, I realised it was not - it was a revelation, I had learned a valuable lesson. In regard to their constituents’ requests, MP’s are not obliged to help or advise, are not unbiased, so what is Whittingdale’s role as my MP and what’s he being paid for? And – where’s my signed sheet?

Once home upon Googling I discover that Whittingdale did ‘interfere’ when in Parliament he had singled out Jeremy Bamber and argued that he should not have access to the internet (in the UK certain prisoners, for example for legal reasons, may have controlled and fully supervised access to the internet). I also wanted to find out more about Jeremy’s adoptive relatives.

I started with Eaton, Boutflour and Pargeter, as their names had been thrown up by the occasional newspaper and TV programme. Rumour has it that neighbours in Pages Lane were appalled when Ann Eaton took her young children to clean blood from walls and furniture in White House Farm within days of the massacre also that it was ‘common knowledge’ that Robert Boutflour referred to Jeremy as ‘cuckoo in the nest’.

So - ‘they’ don’t think much of him at all’. Apparently at trial the jury had asked whether the relatives had possible motive to lie. They denied it saying they were wealthy in their own right therefore would have no reason to do so. Turns out that wasn’t the case at the time of the murders, the land the relatives farmed was not owned by them but loaned to them by Nevill Bamber until such time as they could afford to buy it.

I decided that instead of haphazardly running to my laptop every five minutes, it would be more productive to make brief notes and set aside specific time for researching the case. Initially I came across a variety of on-line forums, blogs and websites, all with varying degrees of information and bias, some were clearly not interested in facts and appeared to merely want to advance their own agenda. The only reliable source of information is the campaign team website, now a limited company J B Campaign Ltd.

9 Sept 2011 brought Jeremy’s second letter, date stamped and initialled by prison admin. Much shorter, one-and-a-bit A4 pages. Jeremy explains it’s due to being,

so busy right now….Had the QC’s case files turn up today – he had ten times more documents than he gave me in 2002 – and one of the team had a quick look and already found the proof of what Essex Police did to corrupt the case, they say it’s amazing…full of juicy pieces of evidence never before seen in the public arena, it’ll take three months to read them but not to worry – I hope to be out on bail by then.’

And other ‘great news…John Whittingdale is no longer my MP.

In response to an email to Whittingdale, requesting he return my signed sheet, I received a reply, implying that it would not be used. To a second request, referring to the then, on-going MP’s expenses revelations and accompanying outrage; in the post I received a photo-copy of my signature which had been cut from the original document, leaving me to draw my own conclusions.

My plan was to drive to Goldhanger and take a look at the routes which Detective Inspector Wilkinson stated Jeremy would have used in order to carry out the killings and not be seen. Essex Police had a problem though because they had already accounted for every section of the roads and paths that it was possible to take between the two properties, interviewing over five hundred people. No-one had seen Jeremy, his neighbours agreeing that his car had remained outside his house all night.

The prosecution’s case was that after dark Jeremy had left his house in Head Street, Goldhanger and walked the route across farmland to White House Farm, broke into the house through a window. It is then alleged that after carrying out the killings, according to Ann Eaton, Jeremy’s maternal cousin and her father, Robert Boutflour, he used his mother's bicycle to return to his home, negotiating unlit fields though police did test the bicycle and found there to be no blood or forensic evidence linking Jeremy to it. Much food-for-thought but Jeremy’s next letter about a second sound moderator taken from White House Farm but not declared at trial, provided me with a task which I felt took priority.

Sixteen pages! Prison date stamped 21 Sep 2011 and a detailed letter of Jeremy’s findings regarding the sound moderator, which the jury had been told was found in a gun cupboard by relatives, though after the same cupboard had previously been searched by Essex Police and logged as empty. Lots to digest. Got to be half a bottle of red’s worth.

Jeremy writes that he is listening to his favourite radio station, Jazz FM,

‘…maybe it’s my age but I find pop music shallow and not very musical – sweeping statement I know but I just enjoy the saxophone and jazzy impro rifs on the guitar, that computer music has no soul. Oh dear, I’m turning into an old codger, yes indeedy I am. Anyway tis happy happy re the case…found some truly ace stuff in these 130 lever arch files… and what’s so sad is I’m the last to know – yes Webster what a weasel, ruined my appeal he did’.

Who is Webster? Need to look him up and where did Jeremy get those one hundred and thirty files? And where does he keep them? Decide to delay my taste of the vine until I had pondered a while, find out about this Webster person and more on these files.  Perhaps drive to Mill Beach and Osea Caravan Park, walk my Whippets, Millie and Bella, along the sea-wall? Incredibly, having visited, then lived in this area for so many years, I had only just discovered that Osea has any connection to the Bambers or that Caretaker was one of Jeremy’s job descriptions.

Fighting to engage the ageing gears as I back my little red KA off the drive, I curse - more expense - never ending; then, as was becoming a habit, I once more dwell on how it must feel not to have the freedom to choose to do this. Jeremy’s probably forgotten what it’s like to drive; he did say when asked what he missed most about being inside, that he couldn’t remember what life was like on the outside.  He was only twenty-four when they threw away the key.

The sea air having renewed my verve I drove back feeling encouraged and enthused. Quickly fed and toileted the dogs then rummaged around for the bottle opener. Had to read Jeremy’s letter a few more times, as if cramming for an exam. It seems clear that certain scientists had perjured themselves, others complied though may have been unaware of the collusion and contamination of evidence but it is also clear that still others actively took part in the deception.

He continues,

‘But the forensics are now in a whole heap of trouble and they (COLP) discovered that Glynis Howard and her assistant, Leslie Tucker, John Hayward and his assistant Andrew Palmer, Brian Elliott and his assistant Louise Float and Malcolm Fletcher all signed a set of falsified documents in order to create a chain of evidence paper trail capable of deceiving the jury, and it did…..I have them bang to rights and…they admitted this to COLP in 1991 but COLP/Essex Police just covered it up behind PII….but I have their lab notes…

I realise I’m holding my breath, exhaling and reading on,

‘I can prove every word, I have all the PII primary documents and hundreds of secondary documents showing exactly how my relatives/Essex Police/The Forensic Scientists at Huntingdon and COLP all worked together to either directly corrupt the evidence or actively assisted in concealing that Essex Police had switched moderator SBJ1 with DB/1 which had been used to scratch the mantle shelf…between 20 and 25 September…to falsely implicate me as a murderer. Police and COLP used the fact that Anthony Pargeter had perjured himself by saying he took his moderator home to Buckinghamshire the weekend before when in fact he left it at White House Farm… they wanted to (sic) ‘prove’ there was only one moderator’.

Jeremy closes with.

‘So if you would be so kind as to spread the news.’

He’s sketched a ‘smiley’.

‘They now have to face the music…and what kind of pooh storm is landing their way once this lot hits the fan – oh my, Fabreeze just ain’t going to touch the stink from this little lot.’

Lavatorial but makes me chuckle briefly. Humour quickly turning to outrage at the obscenity of this injustice. Was a time when anger would have sent me reaching for the packet of cigarettes I used to hide in the dresser away from prying adolescent eyes, in the days when I indulged in what was referred to as ‘social smoking’. How many more know the truth and stay silent – and why?  Jeremy says to send my letter with all the references to the Home Secretary and closes with, ‘What do you think Poppy?’

What do I think? I can’t do all this! That’s what I think. Where on Earth do I start? A brilliant piece of research, professionally evidenced but what parts to use and who will read it? I don’t want to ramble; lose my ‘audience’ but at the same time it’s vital I include pertinent, provable points. Even in the midst of the revelation of this corruption, I still pause to make a note of my alliteration, clever - can use that again, immediately followed with a mental slap-on-the-wrist though I can imagine Jeremy's, ‘You’ll get a star for that.’

After several drafts I settle on the final format and content though feel that I could make a better fist-of-it now that I am more familiar with the case and legal procedures. Popped to the Post Office, sent it Recorded Delivery to Home Secretary: Theresa May, Secretary of State: Kenneth Clarke, Prime Minster: David Cameron, John Whittingdale: Member of Parliament.

On my return Bella’s at the back door, wants the loo. Have to tug it open these days, wood’s swollen around the architrave, a seasonal occurrence due to heavy rains and over one hundred and fifteen years of wear. Bella slips through my legs making a beeline for the Basil, silly animal, must be the scent.  I like the fact that others trod these floors before me, that this was home to a family in the days of horse-drawn carriages. Last week a couple, married I presume, having been to a service in the Baptist Chapel opposite, stopped to chat as I was putting the animals in the car. He said he was aged ninety-one and born in my house. Another guy, walks past each morning, has done for months, I presume he eats breakfast out somewhere; stopped when I was painting the front door, to tell me that his son died in my bedroom, aged forty-six, heart attack; he was a police officer. Of course I didn’t, wouldn’t, share my current view of the men-in-blue. Why would police officers frame a young man? I’ve counselled coppers, had a contract with Essex Police, heard some stories, expenses fiddling, faked sickness and back problems to get time off work when it was in fact depression and civilian and police officers of all ranks felt they had to hide the fact. The newlywed and newly qualified police constable who had a nervous breakdown after attending a road accident and had discovered a dead mother and baby in the car and was ordered by his senior after a home visit, to get his uniform on and back-to-work! Nasty - unnecessary. I printed off the ‘thank you’ e-card that rooky sent me – bless. Stress, so incapacitating. In Scott Lomax’ book, ‘Evil, Almost Beyond Belief?’ he writes that the Jeremy’s level of stress at the loss of his family had been exacerbated by DS Jones’ questioning and ‘vile comments’ in describing how the murders had been carried out, causing Jeremy to call him, ‘A hard bastard.’ This was used against Jeremy in statements and since by others including writers. Bending down to root out the weeds forcing their way between the crazy paving - again, I recall a supervisor saying that a counsellor would also make a good gardener, detective or even a public lavatory assistant as they like to get to the bottom of things!

A couple of phone calls and some research proved very productive on the one hundred and thirty files but first, Webster. Much of the prosecution’s case was built around the sound moderator they insisted was on the gun when Jeremy allegedly shot the family and that the blood on it was Sheila’s. Turns out that at the 2002 appeal, even the prosecution’s forensic experts conceded that the Crown could no longer rely on Sheila’s blood ever having been inside the sound moderator. However, Mark Webster, a forensic scientist called to give evidence for the defence, totally undermined that view stating that although Sheila’s blood was no longer inside the moderator it could have been wiped off through forensic testing! To use the vernacular, you couldn’t make it up - but someone did.

And the lever arch files. Since 2001 there have been Court Orders in place requiring Essex Police provide Jeremy's legal team with certain evidence relating to his trial and conviction but which was not presented at court. Essex Police have continued to refuse to comply with the Court Orders and they have never been enforced. In 2011 Jeremy Bamber’s campaign team founder had been contacted and asked if she would like the boxes of files relating to the case, they had been stored for over ten years in an office somewhere. On receipt of these boxes, over eighty in all, it was discovered that they contained lever arch files filled with literally thousands of pieces of undisclosed evidence. Of extreme significance is that they have HOLMES references which is a police database. These Pandora’s boxes also revealed that despite a previous court order to the contrary, in 1996 Special Branch had authorised the destruction of evidence found at the scene; including Sheila Caffell's clothing. Of the eight spirits Pandora released into the world, seven were evil but the eighth was Hope - and in the face of uncertainty, I’ll drink to that.

Friday 28 October 2011 brings further positive news. Jeremy writes that everything is,

 ‘happy happy with the case, and we are finding lots of new stuff’. He says he would love to tell me everything but he must not, which is hard for him as, ‘I cannot keep my own secrets’, though he does allow me in on some of his findings.

Essex Police had asserted that they had photographic evidence supporting their claim that Jeremy had accessed the house on the night of the murders via the shower room window, using a hacksaw blade. When requested by the CCRC, COLP and the courts, to reveal in what order these photographs were taken, Jeremy says that Essex Police were at a loss as to how to do that, even though recording photographs with times, dates and names of photographers was deemed standard practice. Jeremy writes,

‘until finally I get disclosed to me 402 case negatives and 50 hours work and I can place every photo in the order of its taking and I will swear to it that I’m right as I can name each photographer and produce his statement about what he took… and I discovered the reason why they (Essex Police) didn’t want to do this – it shows they perjured themselves…they said they photographed the window and discovered the hacksaw blade… but as the photos show, this was not the case.’

Letter to CCRC re Sound Moderator.

The telephone call made by Jeremy Bamber phoning from Head Street, Goldhanger to Essex Police and the call made by Nevill Bamber, from White House Farm, Tolleshunt D'arcy, ten minutes earlier which Essex Police continual to deny exists.