On Tuesday, 19 June, Harley Street doctor and consultant psychiatrist Dr Donald Blair arrived at Ashford Remand Centre. He had an appointment with Graham, whom he was to assess for suitability to stand trial. This and a second meeting four days later consisted of ‘long interviews’, at which Blair ‘examined him psychiatrically as thoroughly as possible’. 206 On both occasions, Graham appeared ‘quiet, placid and frankly cooperative’.207 A second combined opinion was sought from Dr James Cameron of the Maudsley hospital and Dr Christopher Fysh, who had been able to observe him at a more leisurely pace in Ashford Remand Centre.
Taken together, the reports provide a damning picture of a young mind at war with itself and an obsession with poison that overrode everything, including familial bonds. Dr Blair found that Graham was suffering from mental illness. His disorder was severe enough in nature and degree to warrant his detention in a secure psychiatric hospital where medical treatment should be sought. Dr Blair was of the opinion that Graham was:
obviously highly intelligent but his emotional reactions are slow and he never exhibited the slightest distress in relating the instances of attempted poisoning of his family and friends. Indeed, he seemed to experience emotional satisfaction in doing so and particularly in revealing his intricate knowledge of the toxicology of the various drugs concerned. His attitude to the whole matter was unrealistic and he did not seem to be able to appreciate that he had indulged in acts for which he deserved any serious reprehension. He told me of his great interest in drugs and their poisonous effects but was unable to reveal any reason for such an interest.208
Graham had described to Dr Blair the years he had spent borrowing books from the library on criminology and poisoning in particular. Clearly pleased to have a willing listener, he listed those criminals who interested him most – Palmer, Pritchard and George Chapman, ‘who between 1897 and 1903 poisoned three wives using antimony’.209 Dr Blair recounted:
He mentioned about a prisoner who had put cantharidin in coconut ice to induce an aphrodisiac effect on his girlfriend. However, he had not known the dosage, and when the girl and a friend of hers ate the coconut ice, they both died. The man was not had up for murder but for manslaughter. Although he has not read about them, he has also heard of Armstrong, who murdered his wife by arsenic poisoning and Mrs Merryfield who effected a murder by phosphorus.210
Graham had also given Dr Blair details regarding his own instances of administering poison, outlining ‘with very few inaccuracies the symptoms resulting from poisoning by the various drugs that he used’.211 The doctor perceptively pondered: ‘He gave his mother so much antimony that I cannot help wondering whether it could have been in any way responsible for the condition of her vertebral column which led to her death, although there is no definite proof to this effect.’212 Prompted by Dr Blair, Graham went further back into his own toxic history, relating how he had ‘perpetrated poisoning experiments on insects and once on a mouse. He admits that he purchased from chemists such drugs as digitalis, aconite, lead and morphia [morphine], as well as those already mentioned, and he seems almost to brag of doing so.’213 When asked about motivation, suggesting that he might have been desirous to ‘satisfy himself as to accuracy or inaccuracy of the books he had read’, Graham disagreed. Dr Blair noted: ‘He was sure they were accurate and he simply could not give me any reason as to why he indulged in these acts but could only tell me that they caused him considerable satisfaction. He said that he had no grievance against any of his relatives or his friend and indeed thought that he loved them quite well. It just seemed that they were the nearest people at hand for his purpose.’214
In Dr Blair’s view, Graham did not appear to be suffering from any ‘delusions or hallucinations’ or ‘any definite mental illness’.215 However, there was evidence of ‘a definite schizoid and introverted temperament’, particularly because Graham conceded that his emotional reactions had become ‘progressively more flat’ in recent years.216 Most chillingly, Dr Blair had been informed by one of the Ashford Remand nurses that Graham had been ‘trying to indoctrinate one of the other prisoners who had attempted to murder his mother-in-law about the effects of drugs’.217
The diagnosis reached was thus:
In spite of his high intelligence, he has an inherent defect in his personality, or in other words, he has a psychopathic personality. It would seem that it is this defect which renders him narcissistic and accounts for his extraordinary apathy and lack of appreciation of the social and ethical consequences of his administration of drugs to produce poisoning in relatives and friends. However, there seems also to be about him a certain detachment from reality and a progressive diminution of emotional reaction that possibly indicate an incipient schizophrenic process, although there is no other evidence of overt schizophrenia at present.218
Dr Blair was at pains to point out that Graham presented ‘a very serious danger to other people. His intense, obsessive and almost exclusive interest in drugs and their poisoning effect is not likely to change and he could well repeat his cool, calm, calculating administration of these poisons at any time.’219 He deemed Graham unsuitable for care in an ordinary psychiatric hospital and instead recommended ‘the special facilities available for supervision and treatment in a criminal mental hospital such as Broadmoor. The prognosis in his case is dubious but, on the evidence available, seems to me at the moment to be very bad.’220 He added one final note by hand: ‘In my opinion he is fit to plead and stand his trial.’221
Dr Fysh had interviewed Graham ‘on many occasions’ during his time in Ashford. He had also interviewed Graham’s Uncle Jack and had spoken to headmaster Henry Merkel and to the educational psychologist. Dr Fysh had several reports at his d isposal, including the one from Dr Blair, another from an Ashford Remand Centre psychologist and a third from an Ashford Remand Centre social worker who had visited some of Graham’s relatives, including Win.
Dr Fysh’s diagnosis found a dearth of morality and personal responsibility in Graham and agreed with Dr Blair that he was suffering from a psychopathic disorder that required treatment in a suitably secure psychiatric hospital. His report is worth reading in full, giving as it does a complete clinical assessment of Graham prior to his 1962 trial:
On Examination:
He is quiet and well-mannered. His general appearance is neat and tidy. He is quietly and conventionally dressed. He converses freely and answers all questions readily and intelligently. He shows no gross defects of memory. He shows no abnormality of his thought content and there is no evidence of delusions or hallucinations. The results of intelligence testing show him to be of well above average intelligence.
He quite clearly enjoys discussing poisons and his experience of them and has no sort of reticence in giving details of the doses of poison that he has given to his relatives and friend.
As far as can be seen, he chose his relatives for his poisoning experiments because of their propinquity and he admits as much. There seems to have been no animosity towards his victims. He describes the administering of poison to them rather as an adult might describe a chemical experiment which took place in a laboratory unconnected with human victims. He describes the symptoms of his victims freely, with interest, but without emotion. His uncle tells me that he used to come back from the hospital after visiting his father, whom he had poisoned and describe his symptoms with a similar interest.
He makes it very clear that he considers himself extremely knowledgeable about the effects of poisons, the clinical symptoms and the amount which is likely to be fatal or not. He is at times almost patronising towards myself in this connection, only too ready to correct me and quite unable to accept that he might be wrong. I asked him on one occasion only about his reaction to his father’s symptoms – he described them in detail, including considerable pain, and when I asked him whether this did not cause him distress or cause him to give up administering poison, he showed no sort of regret, distress or other appropriate emotional attitude. He gives a st
rong impression, not acknowledged, of the pleasure he has from the power he feels when administering poisons. There is no doubt that he feels a tremendous and abnormal degree of importance over his knowledge of poisons.
There is no abnormality in his emotional reactions other than an absence of real feeling towards others, including the relatives whom he poisoned. He shows a superficial emotional response towards those who have cared for him and who have been of use to him, but this is on an infantile level. As I have said, he shows no proper regret for the sufferings he has inflicted on those who have cared for him (father and stepmother) or on those with whom he has been on apparently friendly terms (sister and schoolfriend) but who were the victims of his experiments.
While he appreciates fully that his acts of poisoning were against the law and against the socially accepted code, he appears to have no moral sense whatsoever in relation to these acts.
Opinion:
This is, in my opinion, a case in which there is a failure to develop moral feeling and with this a true moral sense, together with a lack of feeling towards others. There is nothing to suggest that this condition is due to Mental Illness or to any failure of upbringing. I consider it to be a disorder of the mind resulting in seriously irresponsible conduct and so constituting a ‘psychopathic disorder’ within the meaning of the Mental Health Act 1959.
Disposal:
In my opinion he requires care, supervision and treatment in a suitable mental hospital. In view of the dangerous nature of his behaviour and his absence of moral sense, I can only properly recommend that this should be in a maximum-security hospital.
I am satisfied that he is fit to plead and stand his trial.222
On 28 June, Dr Fysh wrote to inform the Director of Public Prosecutions that he had received confirmation that Graham and another inmate at Ashford could be accommodated at Broadmoor if the court so directed. This came after the Maudsley hospital refused Graham admission on the grounds that he was ‘too dangerous’.223
But while Graham was undoubtedly a danger to others, he appeared equally so to himself. He had already told DI Crabb that the bottle found on his person at the time of his arrest was his ‘exit dose’ if he were ever found out, and his case files record that he twice attempted suicide during his time in Ashford. The first time he used a poison he had managed to conceal from a routine police search and the second attempt involved using his tie as a noose.224 Sandra received a call at work from the grocery where her mother was employed; Win had collapsed after being given the news of Graham’s second attempt.
Despite having twice tried to kill himself, Graham was regarded as fit to stand trial and would do so in the place where some of his murderous heroes had appeared before him: Court No.1, the Old Bailey. At the forefront of the criminal files marked Regina v Young, now kept in the National Archives, is a note about the defence counsel’s stance: ‘We are pleading guilty to all the charges. No harm was ever intended to either Williams, his father or his sister. Calls no witnesses at this court and reserves his defence.’225
On top of the dome of the Old Bailey stands a 12-foot, gold-leaf statue of Lady Justice. Unlike most depictions of the figure, she is not blindfolded; the Central Criminal Court sculpture was designed to be circumspect. This vigilance was expected to inform each decision taken in the building below. Certainly, when Mr Justice Melford Stevenson passed sentence on Graham Young, his aim was to ensure that the public would be protected by him for a sufficient period in which, it was hoped, the boy could be helped and only then safely released back into society.
Graham’s family did not disagree with the ruling, but as they left court on that day in July 1962, it was almost impossible to believe that ‘Pudding’ – their brother, nephew, cousin and son – was being sent to Broadmoor at the tender age of 14. Ten years later, Graham’s father Fred recalled that moment: ‘As I walked away from the Old Bailey after he had been “sent down”, I made up my mind that I was finished with the boy for good. I was convinced that if he ever got the chance he would poison again.’226 Still ‘yellow as a canary with jaundice’, Fred had an unassailable sense of life having been repeatedly ruined by his son: ‘Within the space of a few months, everything I held dear had been taken away from me. Once I had a house, a wife and family. Now Molly was dead.
Graham was in Broadmoor.’227
1962–1971
BROADMOOR
‘There are only two things that are wanted badly enough to risk damnation. The love potion or the cup of poison.’
AGATHA CHRISTIE, THE PALE HORSE
(COLLINS, THE CRIME CLUB, 1961)
Chapter Six
THE FOUL PRACTICE HATH TURN’D ITSELF ON ME
B
ROADMOOR HAS A unique place in the British consciousness. Until a short time ago, it was viewed almost entirely within the context of past mistakes and the notoriety of several patients: a secretive place whose forbidding walls epitomised our vague ideas of Gothic Victorian brutality, yet to which we remained grateful for restraining present-day serial killers who probably plotted escape and the opportunity to wreak terror again.
During the 1980s especially, the tabloid press relied on inmates Charles Bronson, Robert Maudsley, Ronnie Kray and Peter Sutcliffe for column fodder. In the last ten years, when the truth erupted about the then recently deceased TV personality Jimmy Savile, the photo most used to depict his depravity was taken at Broadmoor; it showed the paedophile, who had preyed on his victims when they were at their most vulnerable, gleefully introducing boxer Frank Bruno, then visiting the institution, to the Yorkshire Ripper. But new documentaries and books, in which staff and patients alike spoke of their experiences, have lessened the mystery of Broadmoor. The public have been able to see that while some occupants have committed dreadful crimes, the majority are simply mentally ill, presenting as much of a risk to themselves as to anyone else. In 2019, new purpose-built units opened on the old premises, focusing more than ever on rehabilitation and providing a safe, therapeutic environment for patients.
Nonetheless, it is fair to say that Broadmoor has had a chequered history, running in tandem with the perception and treatment of those who came before the courts while suffering from a mental illness. The issue has long and complex roots: Marcus Aurelius, the last of the ‘Five Good Emperors of Rome’, decreed that a man incapable of reasoning should be exempt from punishment, kept under secure conditions but treated humanely. Prior to 1800 in Britain, the law regarded everyone committing a crime as equal, with only rare exceptions made for those held to be completely and irretrievably insane. It took two attempts on the life of the reigning monarch to change legal opinion. The first, in 1786, was committed by a middle-aged woman named Margaret Nicholson who had lost her job and wanted to petition King George III for help. After attacking him with a knife and charged with high treason, she showed clear signs of mental disturbance. The King decreed that she should be treated kindly; he himself would soon be plagued by madness. Deemed unfit to stand trial, Nicholson spent the rest of her life in Bethlem lunatic asylum.
The second attempted assassination took place in 1800 when a former British soldier took a pot shot at the King during a show at Drury Lane theatre. It swiftly emerged that James Hadfield had sustained several injuries during his service in France and tried to kill his own child just a few days before visiting Drury Lane. Hadfield wanted to committed suicide, but fearing it was a sin, he intended to kill the King in the knowledge that doing so would result in execution by the state. Hadfield’s defence successfully argued that his actions were the result of his mental illness. The verdict passed by the court was not guilty by reason of insanity. Hadfield was acquitted but sent to Newgate prison until, just days later, the Safe Custody of Insane Persons Charged with Offences Act of 1800 was passed, allowing his transfer to Bethlem. Two years later, Hadfield escaped from Bethlem after killing another patient by felling him with a single blow. Recaptured, he was sent back to Newgate prison.
During the 19th century,
many privately owned and local county and borough lunatic asylums were created alongside a new medical discipline, psychiatry. The 1800 Act had introduced the idea of criminal lunacy and led to intense discussions about its nature: were those deemed criminal lunatics a variant of criminals, or of lunatics, or a combination of both? Asylums were reluctant to take those deemed criminal lunatics, and as the controversy continued, in 1807 a Select Committee of Parliament found that jailing offenders with mental-health problems deprived them of the care they required and created issues with other prisoners. A separate criminal lunatic asylum was recommended, but the government decided instead to build two new wings for insane criminals on to the existing Bethlem. Hadfield was returned to the new unit. Further legislation in 1816 enabled those prisoners who had developed insanity during their incarceration to be transferred to asylums if necessary. In the second half of the 19th century, the overcrowding in the two criminal wings at Bethlem led to the decision to build a new hospital which would provide the exemplary care for the criminally insane: Broadmoor.
Built by convict labour on moorland where highwaymen roamed the stagecoach paths through the heath, Broadmoor opened in 1863 and was the only place of its kind for almost half a century. Forty miles from central London and on the eastern edge of the Berkshire village of Crowthorne, the vast red-brick institution set in sweeping gardens comprised one female block and five for men, along with cottages for the staff and a school.
A Passion for Poison Page 9
