He casts another furious stare at Fawley then sweeps out of the room, taking all the remaining oxygen with him.
* * *
Sent:
Tues 10/07/2018, 10.35
Importance: High
From:
To:
CID
@ThamesValley.police.uk
Subject: FATAL INCIDENT ALERT: WALTON WELL BRIDGE
At approx 01.25 hours this morning, 10/07/18, a crew of Network Rail engineers working on the line north of Oxford station saw suspicious activity on the above bridge. A freight locomotive was due to pass along the line, but the crew were able to phone through to the driver and halt the train at the last moment. However, the person discovered below the bridge was found to be already deceased. There were no identifying items or documents on the body. The initial assumption was suicide, but examination at the scene identified some injuries that may not be consistent with a death consequent on a fall from height. That being the case, I have fast-tracked the PM.
C. R. Boddie will officiate, and one of my officers will attend.
I will keep you informed.
Karl Jacobs
Inspector, British Transport Police, Oxfordshire
Oxford Railway Station, Park End St, Oxford OX1 1HN
* * *
Baxter puts his hand up for tracing the Twitter rumour on the grounds that it would have come his way anyway, and he knows from experience that stepping up is a better look than crapped on.
He has a private bet with himself that Fawley will be chivvying within the hour, but it’s barely half that when he looks up from his computer to see the DI standing there. He looks harassed, more harassed than usual, even allowing for the super-charged Super.
‘Any progress?’
Baxter sits back. ‘Well, I think I may have worked out which account it started from. Fisher’s never mentioned by name but if you’re part of that whole Oxford thing I bet it’d be pretty bloody obvious who they’re referring to.’
Fawley comes round and stands behind him, bending over the screen. ‘Show me.’
The phone rings now and Quinn picks up. ‘CID.’ He listens for a moment, then, ‘OK, give me that address again – 62a Shrivenham Close, Headington. Right. We’ll send someone over.’
He puts the phone down and gets to his feet, tugging his jacket off the chair. ‘Ev? Think I’ll need you with me on this one.’
She looks up. ‘Problem?’
‘Woman’s been reported missing. Didn’t turn up for work today and hasn’t been answering her phone. A colleague’s just been over to check and found the front door open but no one inside. That was Uniform on the blower – given no one’s seen or spoken to her for over twelve hours they don’t want to take any chances. They want one of us to take a look.’
* * *
[ARCHIVE OF TONY BLAIR ACCEPTANCE SPEECH, ELECTION NIGHT 1997. FADE TO ‘THINGS CAN ONLY GET BETTER’ – D:REAM]
[FADE OUT]
[JOCELYN]
Things may have been about to get better for the country, but for some people 2nd May 1997 marked the very worst of times.
A young girl called Paula, for one. She spent that night in A&E at Manchester Royal Infirmary, after being attacked and sexually assaulted.
And for Gavin Parrie, that night triggered a chain of events that led eventually to his arrest, conviction and 18 years’ imprisonment for the rape and attempted rape of seven young women in the Oxford area.
So how did an isolated albeit brutal incident in Manchester get linked to a series of assaults that took place almost a year later, and nearly two hundred miles away?
I’m Jocelyn Naismith, and I’m the co-founder of The Whole Truth, a not-for-profit organization that campaigns to overturn miscarriages of justice. This is Righting the Wrongs, series 3: The Roadside Rapist Redeemed?
Chapter two: Paula
[THEME SONG – AARON NEVILLE COVER VERSION OF ‘I SHALL BE RELEASED’]
[JOCELYN]
We’re calling this young woman Paula, but that’s not her real name. Her case has never come to trial, and her identity has always been protected, but even if we can’t divulge her name we’ve been able to piece together a broad narrative of her life from people who knew her.
Paula had been in the care system since she was 6 years old. Her mother was a drug addict, and she never knew her father. Like Gavin Parrie, she’d dropped out of school early, and by 16 she was earning her living as a sex worker. None of that, of course, excuses what happened to her, but it does explain what she was doing in a known red-light area, in the early hours of the morning.
But Paula wasn’t raped by a client, nor by one of the regular cruising punters. She’d never seen her assailant before. But she did see him. And in due course she was asked to identify him in a line-up. A line-up that included Gavin Parrie.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. We know why Paula was on Lockhart Avenue that night. But what about Gavin – was he there, and if he was, what was he doing?
The answer, of course, is simple.
Sex.
By early 1997 the relationship between Gavin and his wife, Sandra, was breaking down.
[SANDRA]
‘All we seemed to do was argue. About the kids, the house, money. Especially money. His brothers both had proper trades but he was still stuck doing casual work, and going cap in hand to them for the odd labouring job here and there. I think he just found it humiliating, especially with Bobby, him being younger and all that. In the end he spent most of his time sitting about on the couch all day watching TV and drinking cider. And then he’d be out all hours at night and rolling in pissed just when I was trying to get the kids up for school.’
[JOCELYN]
It was hardly the healthiest of lifestyles, and it must have been about this time
