Deterrence (Part One)

Nothing deters like capital punishment, right? A comfortable notion that needed to be investigated, so I did. If it works then surely people close to the system would be deterred. So were they? Months after his resignation as Chief Executioner John Ellis, tried to commit suicide in 1924– then a criminal offence – after a bout of drinking.

Ellis promised not only to curb his drinking, but never to attempt suicide again, but Ellis died by his own hand in 1932. He threatened to kill his wife and daughter with a cut-throat razor. They fled before the former executioner who had participated in over two-hundred executions turned the razor on himself in September 1932. Had he succeeded in killing his wife and daughter rather than himself, he would probably have faced execution at the hands of his bitter rival Tom Pierrepoint.

The Applicant:

Ellis escaped the gallows, but one would-be executioner was not so fortunate. In previous centuries some executioners had committed worse crimes than the people they were hanging. As the twentieth century approached that was no longer a recommendation, but one criminal had aspirations of a career on the other side of the rope. Samuel Dougal applied to become a hangman in the 1890s. He was rejected as unsuitable. Nevertheless, he knew the consequences for murder.

While France celebrated the 114th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, Dougal finally got his own tour of the execution chamber, but from the wrong side. He was there to be hanged by the William Billington assisted by his brother John, although an over-enthusiastic prison chaplain delayed it by thrice demanding to know if Dougal was guilty or not. After refusing to answer twice Dougal confirmed his guilt from beneath the hood and the lever was pulled.

Deterrence (Part Three)

Less than a decade after James Power embarrassed his former colleagues and employers by becoming a client of executioner Tom Pierrepoint, another former police officer made the short walk to the gallows, but the two former law enforcement officers could not have been more different.

Ernest John Moss made no effort to avoid responsibility, even after the judge tried to persuade him not to plead guilty, and it was his only offence. Moss had a failed marriage behind him when he made the fateful decision to set up home with girlfriend Kitty Bennett. He had also quit his job as a police officer in Brixham to work as a taxi driver around that time.

Tragically Moss soon came to the conclusion that it had been mistake living with Bennett. Moss claimed that they made a suicide pact, but he changed his mind. Instead he used a gun to batter Bennett to death. There was no motive or planning, but Moss utilised the situation to get what he wanted.

On November 8th 1949 the tempestuous relationship between 25-year-old lorry driver Timothy Evans and his 19-year-old wife Beryl ended. She lay dead in their home at 10 Rillington Place in Notting Hill, West London. Their baby daughter Geraldine was also dead. Both had been strangled with ligatures – the method of choice of depraved serial killer John Reginald Halliday Christie, who lived in the downstairs flat at the same address.

Evans panicked and fled to his native Wales. He eventually went to a police station in Merthyr Tydfil and confessed to both murders. Although he retracted rapidly, blaming Christie, he wasn't believed. On January 13th he was sentenced to death by Mr Justice Lewis after a three-day long trial.

Few cases did more to end the death penalty in Britain, but when Albert Pierrepoint, assisted by Sid Dearnley, hanged Evans less than two months later for a crime he did not commit, hardly anyone raised a murmur of protest. That came later.

 At first glance there is nothing special about December 16th 1950, but it proved to be one of the most important dates in the history of British justice. It was the day that the veneer of deterrence was stripped away from capital punishment in Britain once and for all. James Ronald Robertson was not just another prisoner who paid the ultimate price for his crime – he was unique.

Robertson was hanged that morning in Barlinie Prison in Glasgow, but he was unique in the annals of people executed in Britain in the twentieth century. If ever a person should have been deterred from committing murder by the death penalty, it should have been Robertson. He was perhaps the most important guilty person executed in Britain in the twentieth century.

Why? Because James Robertson was the only serving police officer to be hanged in Britain in the twentieth century. So what brought a law enforcement officer to face the drop at the hands of Albert Pierrepoint and his assistant Steve Wade?

Deterrence (Part Nine)

An Unwanted Place in History:

Former Major and respected solicitor, Herbert Rowse Armstrong, was a pillar of the community in Hay-on-Wye in the early twentieth century. Armstrong was a free-mason, but he held important positions in the judicial world. In addition to his practice, Armstrong had been appointed Clerk to the Justices at Hay, Bredwardine and Paincastle. He was, however, seen as dominated by his wife Katharine until her death in February 1921.

The investigation into the poisoning of rival solicitor Oswald Martin was conducted secretively for just over two months. The chemist who sold the poison to Armstrong, Fred Davies, also had access to it and a motive. He was Martin's father-in-law and had a grudge against Armstrong. But the main cause for concern was Katharine's death. Had she been murdered by her seemingly mild-mannered and caring husband?

After Armstrong's arrest on December 31st her body was exhumed. The post-mortem examination was conducted by the then eminent Professor Sir Bernard Spilsbury, who declared that death had been caused by arsenic poisoning, rather than natural causes. Spilsbury was then the top pathologist in the country – world even – but his reputation would suffer greatly later.

Trial:

The ten-day trial began on April 3rd 1922. The main issue, decided by Armstrong's lead barrister Sir Henry Curtis-Bennett KC, was whether Mrs Armstrong had committed suicide or he had administered the fatal dose. Spilsbury insisted that Mrs Armstrong could not have got the arsenic and taken it herself. Her nurse told the court that on the day of her death she had been worried about dying and did not want to leave her husband and children, but Mrs Armstrong had been suicidal during her last illness. A previous nurse had quit over it.

The case against him was circumstantial. His possession and use of arsenic to control rogue dandelions was an issue, which the judge said was evidence only of possession. Consequently, the crucial issue was murder versus suicide. A weak case was supported by evidence that Martin had suffered arsenic poisoning. So had Katharine.

Armstrong had not spent much of the money that he received as a result of Katharine's death and there was no comprehensive proof that the arsenic purchased by Armstrong had been used to poison either of his alleged victims. It was taken as read, and her own doctor disagreed with Spilsbury. He believed that Katharine Armstrong could have taken the poison herself.

Tactics:

Even if Spilsbury was right that Mrs Armstrong could not have administered the fatal dose herself, there was another possibility – one that was not considered by the court. She committed suicide by proxy. There were others present that could have given her the arsenic that took her life.

Armstrong made a big mistake with his choice of lawyer. The once-able Sir Henry Curtis-Bennett KC was hired because he was a fellow Cambridge graduate and Cambridge never loses. Curtis-Bennett failed to persuade the jury that there was reasonable doubt at the trial, which took place in Hereford in April 1922.

He could have attacked the credibility of the Martin family evidence far more effectively. Martin's father-in-law had a grudge against Armstrong and Martin was a professional rival. They had plenty to gain from Armstrong's fall from grace. Instead the errors of judgement, perhaps seen with the benefit of hindsight, cost the former Major dear, helping to send him to the gallows – the only solicitor to pay the ultimate penalty for murder in the twentieth century.

Deterrence (Part Eleven)

Some caused more problems than others to Pierrepoint on a personal level too. He developed the habit of shaking hands with the condemned person before he hanged them. While many would have preferred to haven shaken hands with anyone but him, there was one condemned prisoner to whom it really mattered.

James Corbitt was sentenced to death by Mr Justice Lynskey on November 6th 1950. Pierrepoint accepted the engagement to hang the prisoner, unaware that he had agreed to execute a friend – they sang together at Pierrepoint's pub and knew each other by their nicknames 'Tish and Tosh.' Pierrepoint was surprised to hear that the man in the condemned cell claimed to be a friend and wanted Pierrepoint to acknowledge their friendship.

Pierrepoint saw the condemned man through the spy-hole and recognised his singing partner immediately, but what had brought Pierrepoint's friend – a man who surely knew the consequences of murder and would be deterred by capital punishment if it worked – to the gallows?

Disastrous Relationship:

Corbitt had an on and off relationship with Eliza Wood. They had lived together and spoke of marriage, but rather than split amicably, Corbitt became obsessed with the thought that Wood had found someone else. He said that he would give her another chance if she gave the man up, but formed a murderous intent instead.

Entries in his diary show that he had decided to kill Wood weeks before he finally did it. He contemplated ways to do it, before settling on a method that all but ensured he would end his days on the gallows. They booked into a hotel on August 19th 1950. Corbitt checked out the following morning, leaving Wood's naked body in the room. He had strangled her and written the word 'whore' on her forehead. Unsurprisingly, he was arrested on August 21st.

Corbitt claimed that during an argument, he began to strangle her, but decided to finish her off with a bootlace. Diary entries showed that he had been seriously planning to kill her after an argument on July 22nd. Only the precise method remained in doubt. Less than month later Corbitt strangled Wood.

His Final Journey:

Just over eleven weeks after the murder, Corbitt was tried by Lynskey and a jury. It was over quickly as there was no doubt that he was guilty of Wood's murder. The Governor of Strangeways Prison informed Pierrepoint that Corbitt seemed anxious, but only that Pierrepoint acknowledge their friendship before hanging him.

As Chief Executioner, Pierrepoint had to lead the execution party to the gallows after the prisoner had been prepared for the walk to the gallows. It usually took seconds from leaving the condemned cell to the lever being pulled. This execution was unusual. Pierrepoint and Corbitt warmly greeted each other in the condemned cell before Pierrepoint led his friend to the trap and ended his life. He was assisted in that task by Herbert (Harry) Allen.

It was a hanging that affected Pierrepoint personally, but not enough for the most prolific executioner of the twentieth century in Britain to tender his resignation. That happened in January 1956 in a fit of pique at not receiving his full fee over a scheduled hanging that resulted in a reprieve.

Corbitt knew better than most the consequences of murder. Of all the 435 people that Pierrepoint had hanged as a Number One, nobody was closer to the Chief Executioner than Corbitt. They sang together in Pierrepoint's pub. They were friends, but not even that and the knowledge that his actions would lead him to the gallows and make his friend end his life could deter Corbitt from murdering Eliza Wood.