A Passion for Poison

by Carol Ann Lee

  Diana Smart confirmed that she had suffered sickness, body odour and cramp after drinking coffee in the workplace: ‘My legs were so weak, it was agony to walk. For three weeks I was ill. I was sick every afternoon following the coffee break.’ She usually recovered over her weekends away from the firm. But on later occasions, when Graham brought her coffee, the symptoms returned with a vengeance. She told the jury, ‘When this happened, Young was always very concerned. On one occasion he went and got a chair and made me sit down near an open door and brought me a glass of water.’ She recalled speaking to Graham about Fred Biggs shortly after the older man’s funeral: ‘He said to me, “Poor old Fred, I wonder what went wrong. I was rather fond of Fred.”’ She added that although she herself had an interest in medicine, it was nothing compared to Graham’s understanding of the subject, which he liked to demonstrate regularly, using technical terms. ‘He was very morbid,’ she remembered. ‘He was an unusual character and spoke a lot of medical terms. We used to have conversations. He would always go out of my reach.’ Then she said, with evident bemusement, ‘I have never done anything to inspire Young to do what he did to me. I always thought I got on very well with him.’

  Peter Buck, import-and-export manager at Hadlands, told the court that he too had been sick after drinking tea while working in the stores with Graham one afternoon the previous October. Fifteen minutes later Buck felt nauseous: ‘I got a headache and had to sit down and was still being sick when I got home that night. I was quite sure it was something to do with the tea Graham had served me. I was sure of this because I had not eaten any breakfast that morning and the vomit consisted of the tea only.’ Buck also told the court how he had once found Graham skipping work to read a book concerned with humanity’s ‘preoccupation with death’. He added that Graham had frequently asked after Biggs and Tilson, remarking that he understood the latter was losing his hair. ‘We were not aware that this was common knowledge at the time,’ said Buck.

  Dr Arthur Anderson recalled the staff meeting at Hadlands where Graham had displayed an ‘extremely extensive knowledge of both medical expressions and the cause of illness and in particular, poisoning’. Anderson admitted: ‘To be quite honest, his questions showed that he knew a very great deal about poisoning and I as a GP did not know all that much about it. I had been taken aback by his knowledge, which was far above that which I would have expected to find in a person doing his kind of work.’

  Detective Chief Inspector John Kirkpatrick gave evidence, recalling Graham’s remark, ‘The whole story is too terrible. You would be disgusted and amazed.’ Then Detective Chief Superintendent Ronald Harvey, ‘in a well-pressed grey suit’ according to the Daily Mail, took the stand. He was a sturdy presence in the witness box, with all the paraphernalia of police work within his reach. This included a vast brown wooden pegboard on which there hung bottles and phials of poison removed from Graham’s lodgings. Harvey described how Graham had told him that a fatal dose of thallium found in his jacket pocket was ‘my exit dose – exit in inverted commas – but I didn’t have the chance to use it.’ He recalled asking the defendant if a bottle of sodium partrate mixed with antimony salt had been supplied to any of his victims. Graham had replied, ‘Yes – Di Smart.’ The accused had admitted that some antimony sodium tartrate found in his room also contained antimony potassium tartrate. When Harvey enquired if he had administered this to anyone, Graham had nodded, ‘Yes. Peter Buck, Di Smart, Ron Hewitt and Trevor Sparkes.’ When Harvey had asked him to whom he had administered the thallium, the accused had replied, ‘Well, of course you know the answer to that.’ He recalled Graham’s recital of the verse from ‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol’, and how, when it was suggested he was feeling some remorse, Graham had interrupted, ‘No, Mr Harvey. That would be hypocritical. What I feel is in the emptiness of my soul.’

  The second woman to be widowed while her husband worked at Hadlands gave evidence: Fred Biggs had likewise enjoyed an active life, filled with gardening and ballroom dancing, until his sudden illness at the end of last October. Annie Biggs related how Fred had made a brief recovery and then felt unwell after Graham had offered him a cuppa during stock-taking fortnight. Her husband had visited his doctor who gave him medicine, but it had no effect: ‘He had great difficulty in walking and complained of pains in the chest.’ At night, his feet hurt him so much that he couldn’t even bear the bedsheets on them. Fred Biggs’ doctor had sent him to the local hospital, but he was transferred a few days later to the Whittington hospital where he was put in intensive care. Graham had then telephoned Annie Biggs. She recalled: ‘He said to me, “Oh, I have just learned today that your husband is in hospital. Could I go and see him?” I said no, as I thought my husband would only want to see the family.’ Fred Biggs had died on 17 November, following the doctors’ suspicions of toxic effects.

  Dr Hugh Johnson, forensic pathologist and senior lecturer in forensic medicine at St Thomas’s hospital, London was the main prosecution witness to take the stand on 23 June. He told the court how Agatha Christie’s novel The Pale Horse had led him to conclude that Fred Biggs had died of thallium poisoning. ‘I was the first to suggest thallium poisoning,’ Dr Johnson insisted. ‘I had studied it closely before carrying out my investigation and had heard about its effects before I began. I had also read the thriller and knew something of its effects on people from that book.’ He recalled being telephoned after Biggs’ death and being told his case history along with those of Batt and Tilson: ‘I happened to be interested in poisoning cases and the very bizarre nature of this poison had stuck in my mind.’

  As far as Johnson was aware, there had never been a case of thallium poisoning in England. Asked to define thallium, the doctor said it was a metallic element used in making optical glass. It could also be used for killing rats and had even been used in the medical treatment of scalp disorders. He added, ‘This however was discontinued because some children had died as a result of this treatment.’ Dr Johnson said a fatal dose of thallium would be between 3/4 and 1 gram, the equivalent of 12 to 15 grains. He said he had contemplated taking some of the poison himself as an experiment but decided against it. In the case of antimony, this was also a metallic element and a large dose could cause death from shock and dehydration.

  The case for the prosecution ended there. It was 3:30 on Friday afternoon. There had been no intense or controversial cross-examination of any of the witnesses as such, more a straightforward corroboration of facts. Throughout the entire proceedings, Graham had observed and listened intently to his former colleagues, detectives and doctors giving evidence against him. But he remained impassive. ‘The Man in the Dark Suit Just Listens’ was one headline.691 The Daily Mail reported:

  The man in black seemed in his brooding, intense way to dominate the proceedings, though he took no active part. Fingertips together. Brown suede shoes peeping below the dock rail. Sharp, pale face bent forward to miss not a word they were saying about how he was alleged to have mixed poison potions for his unsuspecting friends and workmates. He listened as a police witness spoke of his highly sophisticated knowledge of poisons and their effect on the human body and gave a sharp shake of his black hair if, as happened once or twice yesterday, a witness stumbled over the unfamiliar language of pharmaceuticals.

  The defence was due to begin its evidence the following week, with the jury expected to retire to consider their verdict on Thursday, according to Sir Arthur.

  On Monday, Graham would take the stand.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  HE IS JUSTLY SERVED

  M

  ONDAY, 26 JUNE 1972 was a brighter day, weather-wise, than it had been since the trial began. It was still cooler than was usual for that time of year, but the sun glimmered on the cascading fountains outside the court building and the rosebuds of the public garden were in full bloom.

  There was not a single seat free in Court No.1. The public gallery was packed with attentive spectators and alert reporters who shuffled in anticipa
tion as the legal personages took their places and the defendant was brought up in a state of barely repressed elation. Journalist Arnold Latcham, who had reported on Graham’s first trial, was at his second to see him emerge as ‘totally wicked. A complete psychopath, a living Jekyll and Hyde. Confident, at ease, left hand always lounging in his trouser pocket.’692 Anthony Holden noticed the same calculated performance: ‘Neat black suit, immaculate grooming, one hand generally in his left trouser pocket, the other resting on the bar rail, the refusal to sit, the occasional sip of water, the requests for adjournments to gather his thoughts – all combined to produce the impressive histrionic performance designed to earn him the publicity he coveted.’693 Near Latcham and Holden sat Susan Nowak of the Watford Observer, who thought the man in the dock ‘clearly a very intelligent fellow, but he also came across as incredibly creepy. You didn’t want to make eye contact with him because he just had this unnerving aura about him.’694

  At 10:30am, Graham strolled into the witness box and stood with his hands resting lightly on the wood surround. Defence counsel, Sir Arthur Irvine QC, rose to his feet and began leading his client through the tangle of charges against him. Regarding the veracity of the allegation of administering poison to Trevor Sparkes, Graham responded, ‘Certainly not. I emphatically deny it.’ He recalled that sometime in March of the previous year Sparkes had mentioned suffering persistent groin pains.

  ‘Did you offer him anything by way of medicinal treatment?’

  ‘On a couple of occasions during the time he was ill he came to my room to talk to me and on these occasions – as was my habit when he came to visit me – I offered him a glass of wine. I believe he complained of tension one day and I suggested that he take some 30 grains of potassium bromide. I myself use it as a sedative to enable me to sleep. I tend to be an insomniac. I find difficulty sleeping.’

  Asked about his colleagues at Hadlands, Graham said that he had been on friendly terms with his fellow store workers: Bob Egle, Fred Biggs and Ronald Hewitt. In August last year the stores had been plagued by wasps: ‘Fred suggested we use sugar and water placed in a bowl outside the doors,’ Graham told the court, ‘the theory being they would be attracted to the water rather than the interior of the stores. As a result of this, we struck up a general conversation about market control.’ They discussed insecticides and Biggs mentioned that his garden had been invaded by some sort of bug. Graham suggested using nicotine to get rid of the pests; three or four days later he brought in a tin of nicotine dust and offered it to Biggs, who wasn’t convinced of its effectiveness. Graham said he had taken the tin home and then recommended a thallium solution: 10 grams (about 150 grains) to a gallon of water. He again offered to provide some, explaining he had bought 25 grams of thallium from a chemist using the pseudonym M E Evans, purely for the purpose of scientific study. Returning to the subject of thallium and its use as a garden pesticide for Fred Biggs to try, Graham told the court, ‘Because of my knowledge of chemicals and toxic substances I was able to warn him how dangerous it was.’

  Irvine asked him about his arrest. Graham replied that he had felt embarrassed walking about the police station in a blanket ‘like a Sioux Indian’. This and other factors, including not being allowed to wash, shave or comb his hair, and the lack of food and drink, influenced him during his interviews with detectives at Hemel Hempstead. In a state of shocked anxiety, he had maintained his innocence until they reached an ‘impasse’ when he told Detective Chief Superintendent Harvey that he would give him a plausible set of answers to his questions ‘in order that and providing that I was then given clothing, food, sleep and access to a solicitor. I emphasised that I would withdraw the statement at the earliest opportunity. It was done purely to enable me to get away from the police station and see my solicitor.’ There was no question of him practicing deception; the statement was a ‘mere convenience’. He had felt certain that scientific analysis would show his innocence ‘and therefore my statement was a false one’.

  Irvine then brought him to the subject of his diary. Graham responded that it was ‘not a diary at all. It is set out in diary form, but it is not a number of entries set out over a period of days or weeks. It is a document which was completed on one occasion.’ Asked if he could elaborate on that, he said that as far as he could remember, it had been written on 18 November and therefore he would agree to refer to it as a diary only ‘under protest – for the sake of convenience’. Asked what led him to write it, he replied, ‘The diary, as it were, was the exposition of a theory – not one I seriously held – a somewhat fanciful one which I outlined for my own amusement, although that is not a very apt word.’

  He told the court that he had been grimly inspired by what was happening at his workplace:

  The illnesses were unusual in origin and many of us were naturally concerned to know their cause. A number of things sprang to mind, one being virus infection. Something that also sprang to mind – well, to my mind, at any rate – was the similarity of symptoms displayed by people at the firm and the symptoms of heavy metal poisoning. In consequence I decided to elaborate my theory and suggest circumstances under which these things could have come about.

  The cause that he ascribed to these illnesses was purely his own invention. The way that the illnesses had come about for the purpose of his theory could not have been the result of a multiple accidental dosage or multiple suicide dosage. So for the purpose of the story, it was necessary to create a homicidal reason. The ‘I’ in the diary was not him, he said: ‘I am writing in the first person but I am not referring to me.’ Mr Justice Eveleigh asked, ‘You had to postulate someone with homicidal tendencies.’ Graham nodded, ‘Yes. I intended to elaborate it in the form of a short story or novel, for this was not something I seriously believed. I did at first attempt to set it out in the form of a novel, but my style of writing is somewhat stilted. In consequence, I tore out the first one or two leaves.’ He said that other authors had used the same literary device, including two writers he admired deeply: Dennis Wheatley and Bram Stoker.

  He said writing was ‘something I have always dabbled in’ and he had in the past submitted stories about both world wars to an English teacher ‘for critical analysis’ and a short story to Reader’s Digest: ‘I never heard any more about it but at least I submitted it.’ He said that on a number of occasions in the document he gave way to temptations and wrote to conjure up an atmosphere of horror. He agreed with his defence counsel that part of the document was ‘an exercise in the macabre’. If it had been intended to be serious, he would ‘certainly not’ have left it lying around at the foot of his bed. He had no reason to suppose anyone would take it seriously and there was no reason for him to hide it. The document did not strictly refer to previous illnesses at the firm but one of the fatalities he had in mind was that of Mr Robert Egle. The second he had mentioned was a non-existent fatality which was put in for ‘padding’. He agreed that there were parts in which he had deviated from accuracy. The court adjourned for ten minutes for him to sort out the parts in the diary where this had occurred.

  Graham’s first day in the witness box ended at 4:15pm. The press scrambled to send in their copy; the following morning, every newspaper in the UK led with the story of the ‘Poison Diary’. The Sun had a front-page scoop: ‘Accused! The First Picture of the Man in Poison Trial’. Taken in a photo booth, the image showed Graham with his head slightly bowed, eyes raised to the camera in a psychopathic glare. Although it came to personify the murderous turmoil of a man who had spent his life in thrall to poisons, Nazism and other British serial killers, in reality Graham’s ferocious expression was the result of being short-changed by the photo booth. Aware that it was just the sort of thing the tabloids would relish to illustrate their accounts of the trial, Graham asked Chief Superintendent Harvey to release the image to the media. There was an embargo on its publication, but The Sun released it on Tuesday, 27 June, ahead of Graham’s cross-examination by Mr John Leonard QC.

&nbs
p; Graham stepped into the witness box quite prepared to do battle with the QC. This, more than the previous day, would determine how he was remembered as a killer: he could either slip up and give away more than he intended, making himself appear cuckolded by a legal brain, or he could remain cool and sinister, the intellectual equal – or even superior – of the man who had spent years training to expose people such as him. Graham was ready.

  As the exchange began, Leonard pointedly told the defendant that he was not prepared to regard him as an expert on poisons for the purposes of the case. ‘I don’t profess to be so,’ Graham answered. However, when he referred to a question that he said he had been asked about David Tilson’s urine sample, he was quick to make the point that the quantity seemed far less than that found in recorded cases of non-fatal thallium poisoning. With affected modesty he said as an aside to the court, ‘Nonetheless, my opinion is that of a layman and must be treated as such.’

  Regarding his police interviews, Graham told the court that ‘at my own request’ he had seen a senior police officer to impart his theory on the illness of Jethro Batt, explaining that he understood Batt’s condition to have been caused by a form of heavy metal poisoning. If that were the case, then he would have expected doctors to use dimercaprol and potassium chloride.