Graham’s first case conference in Broadmoor was held in August 1962, two months after he was admitted. Dr Robert Brittain took charge, diagnosing Graham with sadism, psychopathic disorder and schizoid tendencies. In 1970, Brittain would write what was, for many years, regarded as the definitive account of this particular type of killer – The Sadistic Murderer – which was believed to be based on Graham Young. In it, he describes an introverted and sexually prudish man whose traits include being timid, over-controlled, reserved and inexperienced but with a vivid, sadistic and sexually deviant fantasy life and a keen interest in violence-based activities. Brittain identified the subject as egocentric but timid, whose offences were often the result of his self-esteem being belittled. His analysis of Graham at the case conference was challenged somewhat by Dr Udwin, who felt Graham was suffering a ‘neurotically engendered psychopathic disorder’.267 Dr McGrath felt that a diagnosis of schizophrenia would be more accurate, and later recalled how entry after entry in Graham’s record referred to ‘his flattened effect, to the extent that a diagnosis of schizophrenia was seriously considered’.268
McGrath felt that some progress was being made by September when Graham was able to show ‘some grief at his stepmother’s death, for which he held himself responsible as he had given her large doses of thallium and tartar emetic.’269 Another figure from Graham’s past features in McGrath’s notes at this stage: Jean, the girl from his local library, was experiencing mental health difficulties herself and had been admitted to the Maudsley. Broadmoor officials discouraged their correspondence without any explanation.
Plans were cautiously put in place to move Graham after six months to a longer-term block with better conditions, but these were delayed because of his persistent obsession with poison and habit of talking like a medical textbook. He was kept in room No.5 of Block 1 indefinitely, where he promptly began decorating his walls with photographs of prominent Nazis and emblems of fascism. He irritated staff and patients alike with his constant monopolising of the record player in order to play his beloved Wagner.
Graham’s first Christmas in Broadmoor was a withdrawn affair. He refused to help with decorating the hospital or to participate in the carol service. Christmas dinner was served and the League of Friends provided a parcel for every inmate, but most were upset at being away from home and Graham seemed to be no exception. One year after his admission, attendants felt that little or no progress had been made with his case; Graham was either sullen and silent or argumentative in the extreme. ‘We had a lot of trouble with him,’ one staff member recalls. ‘We had to put him on drugs to subdue him. That’s not too unusual, as most patients suffer from depression when they first get here. But Young was different. He lived very much in a fantasy world at first and we had a lot of trouble getting through to him. All he would talk about were his poisons. And this was the very subject we wanted to get him off, to channel his thoughts and energies into something else.’270
The lack of progress was further evidenced by McGrath’s notes that ‘in July 1963 [Graham] told a doctor that he liked [the] “sight and sound of the pain it gave them [his victims] – you might say it was a sexual pleasure”.’271 Even more disturbing was Graham’s admission during the same interview that ‘were he to leave hospital he would again acquire and administer poisons and he could not stop himself’.272
That same month, Graham penned a quite extraordinary letter to one of his first victims, Chris Williams:
Dear Chris,
I hope that you are keeping well. Just a few lines to let you know how I am getting on.
It is not too bad a place here. The food is pretty good and there are things to occupy me some of the time. There is television to watch at night and the wireless to listen to during the day. There is also billiards and snooker, etc.
We can go down to the cricket field every other night to watch the hospital playing an outside (or inside) team. I don’t usually go down though.
How are things with you? I get occasional reports about you from my ‘spies’ in Neasden. Dad saw you a couple of months ago with Richard, so he was telling me . . . 273
Urged by his daughter and sister, Fred Young had indeed begun visiting his son in Broadmoor. He travelled with Winifred, who had married Denis Shannon the previous October, and although the conversation was stilted and lacked warmth, it was regarded as beneficial for Graham’s rehabilitation.
In August 1963, the Daily Sketch ran an article with alleged quotes from Broadmoor staff who were disturbed by Graham being allowed to wander the grounds unsupervised. The reality was that Graham’s liberty was no more and no less than most patients, resulting in the newspaper being forced to publish a formal apology to Dr McGrath for doubting his professional competence. McGrath added a personal note to the periodical report on Graham’s mental state that was issued on 15 August 1963, which recommended that he should continue to be detained in Broadmoor: ‘His mental illness is manifest by a morbid preoccupation with poisons and a sadistic satisfaction from administering them to and watching their effects on other people. He is in need of care and supervision in hospital.’274 However, six months later, McGrath was encouraged to find Graham ‘relaxed’ and with insight into his own problems, to the extent that he approved a reduction in his medication.275
But this promising development failed to progress any further, with McGrath writing in April 1964 that Winifred had enquired why her brother had stopped writing to family and that Graham himself ‘was found to have been instructing other patients in the preparation of anaerobic cultures (meat, potatoes, Bovril, in a sealed tobacco tin)’.276 Two months later, nursing staff reported Graham to be tense and paranoid, and were alarmed to discover that he had offered to help another patient commit suicide ‘by the injection of an air embolism with a purloined syringe and needle’.277 Unsurprisingly, the periodical report on his mental condition again had a personal note to the effect that Graham was ‘emotionally extremely vulnerable and still shows preoccupation with harming others by paramedical means’.278 McGrath took an even greater interest in his case, but despite his encouragement and the positive observation that Graham was ‘alert, resilient and with a façade of insight’, by 1965 the lack of progress was becoming painful.279 In March of that year, McGrath noted that Graham’s insight was ‘academic and superficial’ with a manner that presented in a ‘“hard” psychopathic way rather than in a flattened schizoid way’.280
If anything, Graham’s behaviour was becoming more troubled – and troublesome. McGrath observed: ‘He is consistently reported by staff to be a source of annoyance and trouble, particularly as a bad influence on new patients – a whisperer in corners. I told him of these reports and said if I heard his name again, even without specific offence, the roof would fall in on him. Following this somewhat Kiplingesque approach, Graham threatened another patient with a pen should that patient report any of Graham’s doings to staff.’281
McGrath’s warnings clearly had no effect on Graham, who shortly after the pen incident led a group of patients into regular inebriation. Alcohol was never permitted on the premises, and staff were baffled until one orderly discovered Graham deploying a press-button lighter on the end of a short, flexible pipe to ignite the gas stove used for drinks in the common room, then blowing out the flame before plunging the nozzle into patients’ drinks for a minute or so. The escaping carbon monoxide in the cups of cocoa, coffee and tea caused intoxication.
This incident and several more informed Dr McGrath’s letter of 12 March 1965 to the Home Office. Addressing the matter of Graham’s continued detention, McGrath gave the Under Secretary of State a summary of events in Graham’s life prior to his admission to Broadmoor and a further precis of his behaviour in the past three years. Although Fred had by then visited Graham, there appears to have been another breakdown in communications between father and son, which had clearly upset Win, since McGrath declared that 60-year-old Fred ‘wishes no more to do with the boy.’282
McGra
th then went on to describe Graham’s present behaviour: ‘Graham now occupies himself in ward activities, but does not avail himself of educational facilities, preferring lonely study – trivial and sporadic – of anatomy, physiology and hygiene. He has been a non-contributing member of a therapeutic group and is believed to attempt to nullify the therapist’s efforts outside the group. His associates are mainly intelligent, sexually deviant and psychopathic. He is at present having a small daily dose of Stelazine.’283 This was the brand name for trifluoperazine, a drug used to treat mood disorders and schizophrenia, leading to less anxiety and minimising the desire to hurt oneself or others.
Regarding Graham’s psychometry, McGrath noted that he had been ‘extensively investigated’ at school, while on remand and in Broadmoor, with ‘the consistent features’ being ‘a high verbal scale (IQ equivalent 129) and a significantly lower non-verbal (IQ equivalent 97)’.284 These tests also led to the detection of personality indicators of depression and neuroticism, a tendency towards anxiety, self-doubt and other negative emotions.
McGrath ultimately described Graham as ‘an intelligent young man who had, and retains, an abnormal interest in poisons, from the harmful administration of which he has derived sexual pleasure. He is not, I think, psychotic, but can truthfully be said to have persistently behaved in a seriously irresponsible way, this behaviour stemming from an abnormality of mind as demonstrated by markedly abnormal emotional tone. There is as yet no evidence of maturation, or of significant change in mood or attitude.’285 McGrath recommended that Graham was ‘the subject of psychopathic disorder’ and that ‘for the protection of others should continue to be detained’.286
McGrath’s letter went some way to nullifying Graham’s first attempt at parole, which was made at the end of that year. All Broadmoor patients were entitled to apply to a review tribunal for parole. Graham filed his request, after which Fred and Win drove down to Broadmoor. Fred recalled being invited to attend:
with all expenses paid. It was Ascot Week, I remember, and I drove to Broadmoor with Win past crowds of women done up in their finery. In the tribunal room we were faced by about five people including a doctor and a parson. It didn’t last more than two or three minutes. They asked us what we thought about the idea of Graham being released on parole. Win said she didn’t really think he was fit to come out. I was a bit stronger. I said, ‘If you do let him out, he will never live with me. And if he comes to my sister’s, I’ll clear off.’ They gave me a long, hard look at that but they could see I meant it.287
Win was then asked if she would consider having Graham to live with her. ‘I informed them that I wasn’t prepared to trust him,’ she remembered. ‘I was required to explain my feelings and informed them I would be frightened to go out of the room in case Graham put something in the tea.’288
It took the tribunal panel less than a couple of minutes to deny parole.
Chapter Eight
POISON HAS A CERTAIN APPEAL
F
RED YOUNG RETIRED from his job at Smiths in 1964. Appropriately enough, he received a gold watch from the company to mark 25 years of service. He gave up work a little sooner than he had planned, prompted by his sister and brother-in-law’s decision to relocate to Sheerness, on the Isle of Sheppey in north Kent. Built as a naval port in the 16th century, by the Victorian era the town’s pier and promenade had made it a popular seaside resort, but in 1960 the dockyard closed, leading to the unemployment for thousands and it became something of a ghost town compared to its thriving past. Nonetheless, its sandy beaches and proximity to London (30 miles from the capital’s outskirts) made it an attractive proposition for Win and Jack’s approaching old age. Their decision to move was prompted by Sandra’s marriage to Leslie Lynn in January 1964. She settled in Brent and her parents invited Fred to join them in Sheerness. He accepted, disliking the idea of ‘going into lodgings somewhere’.289 Instead, he sold the house and most of the furniture, apart from a few pieces that Winifred wanted. He soon found a job as a machine inspector at Sheerness and continued to visit his son in Broadmoor ‘about a dozen times or more’.290
Fred admitted to being less than keen on visiting Graham:
but Winnie and her husband Jack thought it would help him if the family rallied round and kept in touch . . . Besides, I had a car and could drive them all down there. The others all used to take him presents – cakes, sweets and so on. Not me. I used to feel I had to give a couple of pounds to one of the staff for him at Christmas or on birthdays though I grudged even that. I never wrote to him. I had nothing to say – to him. Even when I joined in a visit and we all sat round a table in a room at Broadmoor, we hardly ever spoke. All he could talk about was the people he had got to know in Broadmoor, the murderers and maniacs he was mixing with, and Hitler and the Nazis. I believe he used to do a brilliant take-off of Hitler but I never saw him at it. I wasn’t interested.291
Both Fred and Sandra ceased visiting Graham in 1965, leaving Win, Jack and Winifred to keep them informed of Graham’s well-being.
And Graham did make some progress that year. Winifred recalled that the doctors began weaning her brother off sedatives and he started to look much better. But he remained argumentative with the doctors and eager to battle the authorities. On at least one occasion his behaviour resulted in him being locked in his room. Despite being encouraged to take part in group therapy, he refused, declaring that all the exhibitionists used it as a platform for showing off, leaving everyone else sitting in silence.
While a Broadmoor report described his first four years as ‘singularly unproductive and unfruitful’, Graham’s behaviour gradually began to show signs of stability, with privileges being afforded to him, such as listening to the radio in his own room, being allowed to keep a pet budgerigar and his door remaining unlocked except at night. From 7am he was free to do whatever he wished and he chose to spend most of his time reading in his room. But another lapse saw him sent to Block 6, the restrictive maximum-security block; conversely, he appeared more sociable there and became friendier with Joseph Fuller, who was surprised to find him ‘quite cheerful’ and even ‘quite charming’.292 When his period of punishment was over, he settled better into the hospital community and was even relatively pleasant to the attendants, one of whom recalls: ‘If Graham didn’t want to talk to you, nothing would open him up. He’d tell you he wasn’t prepared to talk and then he’d just sit there, silently staring at you. No amount of questioning would draw him out. When you did get him talking, you had to be wary, as a lot of what he said would be lies.’293 None of the nursing staff trusted him, regardless of his new and tentative sociability. One male nurse confirmed: ‘There was something about him which warned us he could be dangerous. We knew he had an obsession about poisons and several times he made the remark that one day he would go into history books as a mass murderer.’294
Dr Udwin formerly took over as Graham’s psychiatrist in 1966. An official record of his time in Broadmoor notes that the next 12 months were one ‘long battle’ between Graham and Udwin, at the end of which Graham seemed to accept Udwin as ‘a father figure’ and continued to make ‘steady improvement’.295 However Graham often remained in a position where ‘he felt he had to defend himself from other inmates and staff [and] he would frighten them by indicating that he would, or had, poisoned them. He also caused some commotion among inmates of limited intellect by indicating that he practised witchcraft and would harm them in this way. Contact with other inmates seems to have been mainly on a superficial level and he felt himself superior to the majority of them.’296 But Udwin observed that Graham’s behaviour had begun changing noticeably in early 1966. Graham spoke to Udwin about wishing to apply for parole but felt it to be pointless since he was certain that ‘no tribunal would discharge him’.297 This led to a fairly productive discussion between them about his case; Graham showed some interest in entering treatment. Udwin recalled:
He admitted to being afraid of going mad. At this point it seem
ed expedient to take advantage of a change of mood and transfer him to better surroundings. Shortly after his move, he once more became disturbed, felt the effort was too much apparently and wanted to get back to his psychopathic friends in high security. This, after a quarrel, reached the point where he made threats that trouble would result if he were not returned to Monmouth House in Block 6, but he was not allowed to return and at this point seemed to settle down at a rather more adult level. I noted at that time that he was showing quite a firm desire to come back repeatedly and talk about his troubles. He even showed a desire to talk about himself rather than his impossible situation in the hospital.298
Electroencephalograms were carried out on 10 February 1966, 31 July 1967 and 12 September 1967. Commonly known as EEGs, the procedure tests brain activity by means of small sensors attached to the scalp, picking up the electrical signals produced when brain cells send messages to each other. EEGs can be used to diagnose epilepsy, sleep disorders, brain tumours and other anomalies, but in Graham’s case they did not reveal any significant abnormality.299 Despite his progress, when Udwin signed Graham’s periodical non-statutory report regarding his continued detention, he declared him to be ‘suffering from Psychopathic Disorder’ and ‘remains irresponsible, not matured and in need of care’.300 Graham seemed to follow the path of one step forward and two back, such as when he finally agreed to participate regularly in the handicrafts class only to then quarrel violently with a member of staff before walking out. Udwin tried to make use of the incident:
A Passion for Poison Page 12
