‘The conversation continued regarding Fred. He further said that he’d heard Fred couldn’t speak but he could hear and it was at this stage he mentioned the similarity between the symptoms of Fred Biggs and Bob Egle. During all of that week the conversation was the same regarding Fred. Graham seemed to put himself out to find out [Fred’s] condition.’555
Diana found Graham something of an irritation that week. At one point he made up a bottle of smelling salts. ‘I don’t know what he put into it apart from cotton wool and ammonia,’ she recalled. ‘He was walking around the factory holding the plastic container, inviting people in the laboratory to have a sniff of the contents. I had a cautious sniff and thought it was quite strong.’556 No one else was interested in Graham’s urging to see if they thought he had made the compound well; there were far too many troubling thoughts to occupy the minds of all Hadlands workers during that period.
On 16 November, Graham wrote in his diary:
I now have further information on F’s condition, but first news from the other fronts. D is now well and bewigged. The latter may now be considered closed.
J is recovering although totally bald. They are still treating the case as one of natural disease, it would appear. This front is potentially dangerous, although quiet at present.
F is now seriously ill. He is now unconscious and has developed bulbar paralysis, necessitating a tracheotomy. He also has a direct inflammation of the optic nerve or, more likely, a netro-bulbar [optic] neuritis which has produced blindness. It is likely that he will die within a few days. It will be a merciful release for him as, if he should survive, he would be permanently impaired. Even if the blindness was reversible, organic brain disease would render him a husk. It is better that he should die. From my point of view his death would be a relief. It would remove one casualty from what is becoming a crowded field of battle. In the event of F’s death, the last remaining problem will be J’s, and providing that hurdle is passed, the battle will be over. Too many health authorities are becoming involved for me to press the matter further.557
Graham’s instincts were correct. The senior public health inspector for Hemel Hempstead Urban District Council had visited Hadlands on Monday for the specific purpose of inspecting the kitchen and dining room together with the general sanitation of the factory. He found everything was in excellent order. On Wednesday, 17 November, a conference was held in Dr Hynd’s office, at his instigation, to discuss possible causes of the illnesses and to determine whether there was any causal of association between the illnesses, and between the illnesses and the premises. Depending on the outcome of the meeting, preventative measures could then be put in place. Present at the conference were Dr Hynd himself; Dr Anne Solomon, who had treated Bob Egle and Fred Biggs; Dr Roger Gulin, who had looked after Bob Egle and David Tilson; Dr Trott, the district medical officer for HM Factory Inspectorate; Dr Malcolm Harrington, lecturer in occupational health at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine; and Dr Arthur Anderson, GP for Kings Langley and Bovingdon. The medicial registrar at the Whittington hospital was unable to attend. The group discussed at length the medical histories of Bob Egle, Jethro Batt, David Tilson and Fred Biggs while Dr Hynd made notes. Ultimately, they concluded that the problem was probably a virus of some description, and the matter was left open.
That evening, Graham visited his sister. He was garrulous, keen to talk about the public health inspector’s visit and the various ailments afflicting his colleagues. He told Winifred that Fred Biggs was seriously ill with a virus, but that it was ‘nothing to do’ with the infection that had led to Bob Egle’s death. Winifred asked if there were any chemicals at Hadlands that might be to blame.
‘No, it’s all electronic stuff up there,’ Graham replied. ‘All the health inspector did was to look at the drains and in the kitchen.’558
Their conversation turned to other things but eventually Graham brought it back to the health inspector’s visit. He tapped his fingertips on his lap, announcing, ‘This chap in hospital is very ill – they think he is going blind.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Winifred. ‘Will he get his sight back?’
Graham shook his head slowly, ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He paused, then said, ‘I’m going down to Sheerness at the weekend. I’m worried about Uncle Jack. He’s not been well either.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ replied his sister.559 Shortly afterwards, Graham got to his feet and said goodbye.
It was the last time she saw him at liberty. Before going to sleep that night, Graham sat on his bed and penned what was to be the final entry in his diary:
Nov 17th. I am most annoyed. The latest news from the hospital is that they ‘think F is beginning to respond to treatment’. Of course, they are not yet certain and a relapse is quite on the cards but is [it] is extremely annoying. He is surviving far too long for my peace of mind. It is imperative that he passes on before total alopecia sets in. There is little of interest other than this. I hope that my next entry records the fulfilment of my wishes or, at the very least, a sharp decline in F’s condition.560
His diary ended there, as abruptly as it had begun.
Graham’s iniquitous wish was granted; Fred Biggs failed to recover from his illness. Doctors examining him in the intensive care unit found he was very slowly able to respond to a command while on a ventilator, but in all other aspects he remained locked inside his suffering, with the extensive scaling of his skin one of the most disturbing visible symptoms. To a non-professional it appeared that his entire system was gradually closing down.
Fred’s family were with him on Thursday, 18 November. At 7am the following morning, the senior anaesthetist at the hospital, Alice Robinson, was called urgently to the Batten unit; Fred had suffered a cardiac arrest. ‘We attempted to resuscitate him by external massage and by inflating his lungs with oxygen as well as injecting heart stimulants,’ Ms Robinson recalled, ‘but the electrical trace of his heart’s action showed no activity and we were unable to produce any.’561 An hour later, the telephone rang in the Biggs’ home. Annie picked up the receiver and was given the news she had been dreading: ‘I was telephoned from the hospital and informed that my husband had died at 7am.’562
Before midday, a leaflet was put into circulation at Hadlands. Diana Smart was working at the far end of the store when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Graham. He passed her the leaflet, ‘You’d better read this, Diana.’ The leaflet informed all staff that their indispensable colleague Fred Biggs had passed away. She recalled:
It hit me like a ton of logs. I said, ‘Christ, Graham, what are we going to do? It can’t go on for ever, something will have to be done. Poor old Fred.’
He said, ‘Well, I don’t know about that, Di.’ He went quiet for a while, then paced up and down with his hands in his pockets. He then rolled a cigarette and stood there saying, ‘I wonder what went wrong. Poor old Fred shouldn’t have died. He was taken off the respirator. I thought he was managing to hold his own. That’s upset me, that has, I rather liked poor old Fred.’
He then walked off through to inspection. He then spoke to Eric Baxter. After this news Graham could not settle to do any work and did not do any work.563
She later insisted to detectives: ‘He seemed absolutely shocked at the news – and to a certain extent I think he was genuinely upset.’564
The effect at Hadlands was immediate: already unsettled and suspicious about the spate of illnesses at the factory, staff now began handing in their notice and talking about an evil influence at work. Despite the health inspector having found no issues, the main topic of conversation other than their colleague’s death was of the curse that was said to have attached itself to the place after the war. The management asked staff to assemble in the canteen that afternoon for an announcement. ‘We were informed that Dr Anderson was coming to give us a talk about the illnesses, or as we thought, about the virus,’ Diana remembered. ‘Graham asked me what the doctor was like and if he would a
nswer some questions. I told him Dr Anderson would answer any questions and that he was very nice because he was my personal doctor. He told me he had four or five questions he had to ask him.’565
John Hadland, who had recently returned from a lengthy overseas business trip to find his company in chaos, called in Dr Arthur Anderson. At 2pm, the GP arrived on the premises and made his way to the canteen where the entire workforce had gathered. Looking out at a sea of worried faces, he began by saying that he wanted to reassure them that every safety precaution regarding health was being met. He then expressed the opinion that the illnesses could be due to a local virus with which they were all no doubt familiar: the so-called ‘Bovingdon Bug’. This had been around for some time and certain people were more prone to it than others. He assured them that, with the full cooperation of the company management, extensive investigations were being made to formally identify the cause. Certain staff members – those who had contact with all areas, but particularly the kitchen and stores – would be asked to provide blood and stool samples to ascertain whether a particularly virulent strain of the bug had developed at the firm.
Dr Anderson spoke for almost a quarter of an hour. Geoffrey Foster then invited questions from the workforce. The first to pipe up was Graham Young.
‘What are the similarities in symptoms of the two people who died and the two people who are ill?’
Dr Anderson replied that there were strong similarities between the two men who were ill but there was no definite link between those who had died and those who were ill.
Graham had another question: ‘What is the significance of the alopecia suffered by Mr Batt and Mr Tilson?’
‘In the case of Jethro Batt,’ said Dr Anderson, ‘this may be due to a nervous condition or stress.’
Graham nodded, ‘So complete alopecia due to psychosomatic stimulus then?’
Dr Anderson looked surprised. ‘Well, yes. This could have been the cause as Mr Batt showed signs of extreme nervous strain.’
‘And would you say,’ Graham continued, to the consternation of his colleagues, ‘that Mr Batt and Mr Tilson’s symptoms are consistent with thallium poisoning?’
The GP drew in his breath. He later recalled:
I was completely taken aback. I had always considered the possibility that the illness and death were being caused by some form of heavy metal industrial poisoning but I was deliberately playing this possibility down in front of the staff because I didn’t want to alarm them. But here was Graham Young shouting his mouth off about the subject. He completely lost me in what he was saying. I knew a little about the effects of thallium poisoning but, at that stage, I knew nothing of the neurological damage thallium could do. Young was talking about that type of damage. I tried to shut him up because I was trying to play down that sort of danger and he was going on and on. Eventually, I managed to get him silenced for a while. I didn’t suspect him of causing the trouble when he mentioned thallium but I suspected it could be thallium poisoning if the factory used it in the manufacture of camera lenses. A quick check with the factory management dismissed any likelihood of industrial poisoning by thallium because none was ever stocked there.566
John Hadland exchanged a perplexed glance with Geoffrey Foster. They brought the meeting to a close and everyone returned to their duties. Anderson spoke to Hadland and Foster about Graham. They explained that he had come to them after spending some time in psychiatric care. Foster added that he wasn’t happy about Graham and described him as ‘a creep’.567 The three men then headed for the store, where Dr Anderson sought out Graham, who showed him around the place. ‘I was very curious to know a lot more about Mr Young,’ Dr Anderson recalled. ‘I prodded him on the subject and found he had a very extensive knowledge of one type of poisoning but in other medical subjects he knew very little. I began to think more and more about Young and I found his observations made on that day were rather peculiar. Considering the fact that he had been in a mental hospital it would have been all too easy for this man to be blamed. But as there was no positive evidence to tie him in, we decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.’568
When the three men had gone, Graham approached Diana to ask whether she was going to have the tests Dr Anderson had mentioned. She said she would; she trusted Dr Anderson and wanted the authorities to find out what was going on. Graham spoke to other colleagues in the store too, telling them that one of the tests would involve a fairly painful procedure called a lumbar puncture. He kept referring to the meeting that afternoon. ‘I got fed up with him and told him to get on with his work,’ Diana recalled. ‘He said to me, “You’ll have to come and help me.” He begged me, so I had to go and give him a hand. In the end I did all the work. He just paced up and down and talked incessantly.’569 Among his topics of conversation was a visit he intended to make to see his family in Sheerness over the approaching weekend. Diana prompted him to mention his plans to the management in case he was needed for testing.
He took her advice, calling on Geoffrey Foster in the office at about 4:15pm. He looked a little anxious as he asked, ‘Can you tell me when I may be required to give samples as I am going away for the weekend?’ Foster reassured him: ‘That will be quite all right, Graham. I expect Dr Anderson will send his nurse up here first thing next week.’570 Graham then returned to the store where, despite having fussed about not getting all the packages out that afternoon, he continued to pace about aimlessly and gaze off into the distance. Diana was exasperated with him and went across to the offices herself, complaining to Foster that Graham was ‘prancing up and down and lighting fags and chattering all the while’.571 She said she couldn’t get anything productive out of him and he was getting on her nerves. Foster calmed her down; feelings were running high at the factory that day.
After leaving Hadlands, Dr Anderson had made his way to Dr Hynd’s office, arriving there around 3pm. Dr Hynd had learned that morning of Fred Biggs’ death and listened to Dr Anderson with a rising sense of alarm as he outlined the medically technical conversation that took place between himself and Graham Young. He decided to call Hadlands and speak to Graham himself. After briefly exchanging polite pleasantries, Dr Hynd asked, ‘Mr Young, I understand that you were treated for your mental trouble by a Dr Udwin. Would you mind telling me who he is and where you saw him?’572
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Graham replied, ‘It is a long time since I have seen him.’
‘But where did you see him?’ asked Dr Hynd. ‘Which mental hospital?’
There was a second pause, longer than the first. ‘You must know,’ Graham said eventually.
‘It’s very important that I speak to him,’ Dr Hynd said. ‘It’s very important that I know from him the nature of your mental illness.’
‘Wait until I close the door then,’ Graham said. ‘There are people outside.’
Dr Hynd listened. There was the faint sound of footsteps, a door being firmly shut and footsteps again. Then Graham returned to the phone and spoke quietly into the receiver.
‘Broadmoor,’ he said. ‘I was in Broadmoor.’573
Chapter Nineteen
THE ORIGINAL POISON BOY
F
OR A MOMENT there was silence at both ends of the telephone line. Then Graham said, ‘I have given you this information because you say it is necessary.’
Dr Hynd recovered from his astonishment and reassured him, ‘It will be treated in strict confidence between patient and doctor.’574 But in that instant, Graham must have known that he had just detonated a bomb in terms of his life and many others. Nonetheless, Diana Smart recalled that when he departed that afternoon at 5pm ‘he seemed just his normal self and thanked me for doing his work. That was the last I saw of him.’575
Unusually, Graham said nothing about the day’s events to his sister when he visited that evening. He made no mention of Fred Biggs’ death, Dr Anderson’s visit to the factory or Dr Hynd’s telephone queries. Instead, he chatted ‘merrily’ about his
plans to enrol in Sussex University the following year, as though a normal future remained an option to him. But at the factory, John Hadland and Geoffrey Foster had discussed everything and concluded that the terrible deaths and illnesses of their staff all appeared to be linked to the young storeman with his strange manner and brilliant understanding of one area of medicine: toxicology.
At 6pm, John Hadland telephoned the police. Two hours later, he and Geoffrey Foster arrived at Hemel Hempstead police station, where they were shown into a private room by Detective Chief Inspector John Kirkpatrick and Detective Sergeant Robert Livingstone. After listening to the two men’s extraordinary story, DCI Kirkpatrick accompanied them back to Hadlands, where he examined the employment register. There was no doubt that the spate of illnesses had begun soon after Graham Young arrived to work at Hadlands. Kirkpatrick wired several employees’ names, including that of Graham, to Scotland Yard for scrutiny.
The following morning, DCI Kirkpatrick tried to contact his superior, Detective Chief Superintendent Ronald Harvey, and was told that he was attending a luncheon with forensic science officers in London. Kirkpatrick managed to get a call put through to him and explained the situation at Hadlands. Harvey returned to his seat. On one side of him sat Keith Mant, a forensic pathologist who had worked with the celebrated Sir Keith Simpson, pioneer of forensic dentistry whose cases included the Acid Bath Murderer, Neville Heath, John Christie and the Kray twins. On the other side was Ian Holden, former director of the Aldermaston forensic laboratory who investigated the 1967 murders of two schoolgirls in the Berkshire village of Beenham. Harvey explained the conversation he had just had with DCI Kirkpatrick, telling them about the symptoms suffered by the two men who had died and others at the factory. Either Mant or Holden – Harvey was unable to remember which – remarked, ‘Well, it looks as if you’ve got a case of thallium poisoning on your hands.’576 Harvey had never heard of such a thing and was keen to learn more before interviewing the suspect. Both forensic scientists recommended J J G Prick’s Thallium Poisoning, the only book available on the subject at that time. They told him there would be a copy of it in the Royal Society of Medicine’s library. Harvey left the luncheon early and telephoned the RSM but it was Saturday and they were closed; however, he did find out that their library books were never loaned to anyone outside of the society, including the police. Harvey then called the police forensic science laboratory in the hope that they might help. They informed him that there was one other copy of the book in the country – it was actually kept in their department in Cheshire. Harvey arranged to have their copy dispatched as a matter of urgency; it was conveyed by squad car down the motorway, blue lights blazing. Later, Harvey discovered there was a third copy of the book in existence and that was only 20 miles away, in the private Barbican home of Professor Francis Camps.
A Passion for Poison Page 24
