—That was when the vampire rumours began?
—Aye. They say the ship they sailed her back on ran aground on the coast near here; when the locals boarded it, they found the crew dead or dying – but she was alive. They said she’d survived on rats; drank the blood of the crew. Bram Stoker wrote a similar story – and set it down the road at Whitby, fifty or so years later. Seems a bit of a coincidence, doesn’t it?
—What happened to her?
—Well, the story goes that two Coldstream Guards that came with her went missing the night they locked her in the tower. That’s when the snow came; they say she brought it all the way from Siberia.
They found the guards’ bodies all mangled at the bottom of the cliff; as if they’d been thrown out of the tower. After that, folk got too scared to go anywhere near the place. They said that she terrorised Ergarth night after night – killing cattle, people; throwing the bodies off the top of the tower. The Russians didn’t come to get her back, and the Ergarth folk were so terrified, eventually, they decided they had to get rid of her.
—How did they do it?
—The story goes that they tried a few ways. First, they sent a soldier in with a rifle. His body was found on the beach a few days later. Then they sent a hunting party up to the tower with dogs and all sorts. They never came back. They were all found frozen to death, dogs and men, all drained of blood. No one would come to Ergarth anymore after that. And with the weather the way it was, no one could get out either. Diseases were rampant, there was no food, there was no hope. So the people of Ergarth decided to sort it out once and for all. These three farm lads went up there, in desperation really. They supposedly battled with that vampire for three whole days and nights.
At last they managed to lock her in the tower; barricaded the doors and waited for her to die of cold. And when she did, they cut off her head so she couldn’t come back.
The next day, the snow thawed and Ergarth was saved.
There is a long silence, disturbed only by Rob’s ragged breathing. I don’t want to mention what’s obvious here.
—Did she have a name? Who was she?
—The story goes that her name was Vladlena, but she was known as ‘The Beast from the East’. I’ll warn you now, you don’t want to talk to folk round here these days about the Ergarth Vampire. Not after what happened to that lass. It doesn’t go down too well.
So there you have it. That’s how the Vampire Tower got its name. There’s certainly no evidence that could even remotely confirm the vampire story. It’s almost like the bats that have made residence there have done so to maintain the myth.
I’ve visited the tower myself. It is certainly a foreboding and rather unpleasant place, even if you don’t know the rather farfetched legend about it. The clifftop on which it stands is exposed to the elements; there’s an almost constant spray of sea fret, and the wind is even stronger and colder than on the high street, where it screams around the boarded-up shops with a sharpened blade.
The fencing around Tankerville Tower has been reinforced since Elizabeth Barton was murdered. Ergarth Council have assured me they now impose a penalty on anyone who trespasses onto the site. But, according to Rob, before her death it was a beacon for drug addicts and the homeless, and held a fascination for the young and the wayward of Ergarth.
It’s no wonder, as it seems there’s little else to do here. The nearest cinema is an hour’s bus ride away, and I see no places where people, let alone the young, can congregate, save for a few pubs and a low wall outside Ergarth Frozen Meats on the high street. I’ve been warned by the staff in my hotel not to wander around Ergarth at night. At first I dismissed their concerns, but as the day darkens, there’s a distinctly ominous edge to the place. Shutters are pulled over Ergarth Bus Station at sunset and the public benches around the dried-up fountain in Ergarth Market Square have been removed to deter rough sleepers. Rob tells me that plans for a skate park close by were successfully appealed by the Ergarth Residents’ Association, and the idea was abandoned. Gangs of youths congregate under the concrete stairs that lead up into the shopping centre or wander aimlessly through Ergarth’s streets. There are so many homeless, aimless and addicted people here, it’s staggering. No wonder towns like Ergarth feel forgotten. The smell from the abattoir wafts in one afternoon, thick and pungent, like some terrible fog. Some residents pull scarves over their mouths but most go about their business as if it’s nothing.
There is no money here; certainly not enough to demolish Tankerville Tower. But it’s the lack of hope that has more impact on me.
But when I stood in the shadow of the tower one afternoon, I had the distinct feeling I was being observed. It was unnerving. The wind is savage on those lonely cliffs, and as the day began to die; the cold once again began to burrow into the ends of my fingers.
I turned away, heading back towards town, when something caught my eye; some movement in my peripheral vision. I turned and looked at the tower, that sense of unease increasing. I saw a black shape. A gull or some other sea bird, most probably, roosting in the tower. But the size of it – its wingspan a blot against the sinking sun – for some reason unnerved me. I understood at that moment why the people of Ergarth want rid of this terrible place.
And as I started to make my way back into town, I was approached by a man asking me for change; I wondered if he’d been watching me from the ruin. I almost wanted to tell him to get as far away from the place as he could. The whole thing felt like it was getting to me, gnawing at me like the cold.
I want to know what Rob Karl saw people actually doing in Tankerville Tower. As those of you who are new to the case of Elizabeth Barton will come to find out; this plays rather an important role in what happened.
—Oh aye, all sorts were going up there and getting up to mischief. It’s out of the way, see. When people saw kids in there they would usually call the police, not us. We were only summoned when there was a potentially dangerous situation. Like if they were lighting fires or trying to climb to the top.
—And were those situations common? You said before that it was mainly the homeless and drug addicts who went to the tower.
—That’s right. Look, it sounds harsh but … well … that lot can look after themselves, can’t they? I mean it’s no skin off anyone’s nose if … The kids though, you can’t ignore that. But as soon as we arrived, they’d scarper. We only ever caught kids in there once. I’m going back a few years now, mind. Group of ne’er-do-wells had got in and were causing trouble, lighting fires, messing on, the usual.
—What happened?
—We heard this shouting, and we shone a light up onto the side of the tower. This one lad, he’d tried climbing up the stairs to that top room and caught his trousers on something; he had those shiny tracksuit bottoms on, see? They’d ripped and he was hanging on to the stones, shouting at us to eff off, with his arse hanging out! Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh about it, not when you know what happened to that poor lass, but this was a long time ago.
—What drew people to Tankerville Tower, do you think, of all places?
—What do you mean?
—I’ve been up there to have a look, and I just can’t imagine why anyone would want to be there, even if there was nowhere else to go.
—Grim, isn’t it? My advice would be to stay well away, especially on your own.
—Were these intruders just vandals and drug dealers, or was there a more … nefarious reason for them going in there?
—I know what you’re getting at, I think. Was any of them into dark stuff – witchcraft and that? Like that Meer lad.
—Right. I’ll just ask you straight. You’ve been inside that tower on several occasions, correct?
—Correct.
—And the last time you went in there was the fourth of March 2018, right? The day Elizabeth Barton’s body was found.
—Also correct.
—Have you ever, in all your years, seen anything in that tower to suggest occult activity? Strang
e symbols painted on the walls? Evidence of sacrificial altars, that sort of thing?
—I’ve never seen nowt in that tower that I couldn’t explain. Until I saw Elizabeth Barton. But that was cos I couldn’t fathom why someone would do that to such a lovely young thing. To me, that place is the Vampire Tower in name only. There are some round here that’d like to see that place demolished and I’m one of them. I’ll tell you that for nowt.
The case against Solomon Meer suggested that he was obsessed with the occult and the idea that there was a vampire in Ergarth. It has not gone unnoticed that the removal and subsequent placement of Elizabeth’s head coincides with medieval European practices concerning the killing of vampires. There are many in Ergarth who say that Solomon Meer was an unpredictable and ghoulish presence around the town, as well as being a petty vandal and a thief. George Meldby and Martin Flynn fare no better. Searches on Solomon Meer’s computer show that he was a member of several vampire discussion forums. All of this Meer admitted in court, but he would not be drawn on whether Elizabeth Barton’s death had something to do with his belief in vampires.
With a case as complex as this one, a case that has been debated and dissected throughout the media, it is hard to know where to start. So let’s start here, in Ergarth, and work backwards. We’ll hear again from Rob Karl about the discovery of the body, and I want to do this in parallel with more recent developments, namely the graffiti on the Bartons’ garden wall:
‘Who locked Lizzie in the tower?’
Mr and Mrs Barton live in an affluent new-build estate just outside Ergarth, where graffiti of any kind is rare. There is, perhaps, more to the thoughtless question in white paint. It appears crassly rhetorical, but is it? I feel like this question has a specific purpose, but what?
Solomon Meer, Martin Flynn and George Meldby are all serving time for what, by their own admission, they did to Elizabeth Barton in March 2018. Is the message on the Bartons’ wall really questioning their guilt?
—It must have been minus ten out there on the cliff, with the wind, and the snow still coming down. I’ve never felt cold like it in this country. My son went over to Sweden one New Year and said it was so cold that your tears froze on your cheeks. This wasn’t far off. When we got the call about someone being trapped in the Vampire Tower, we were over there like a shot.
—What time of day was this?
—Morning, around nine, ten-ish? We park the van as close as we can to the tower. There’s this woman stood there, all bundled up in her scarf and hat; her dog going crazy on the end of the lead. She says that there’s something in the tower. A body.
—How did this woman know? Had she gone inside the tower?
—It was the dog. This great excitable beagle – great daft thing it was. So she’s taking it – what was its name? Henry. That was it. So she’s taken Henry for a walk along the cliff; not so much snow there, see? Not so icy. She lets him off the lead and he’s gone bounding off into the tower and come back with something in his mouth.
—Oh…
—Nah, it wasn’t nothing horrible, not fingers or nowt like that. Henry comes back with a scarf.
—And this woman, she called you because of that?
—Oh no; apparently Henry’s not finished there; he’s off again, back and forth into the tower until he’s stood with a hat, a scarf and some gloves in front of his owner, wagging his tail for a treat like he’s Jack the biscuit!
—I’m assuming these were Elizabeth Barton’s things?
—That’s right. We wondered why it was so easy for this dog to get them all off the body. We hadn’t seen it yet.
—That must have been difficult – not knowing what you were about to face in there.
—Aye. We thought something else had happened to her – there’s plenty of maniacs and weirdos around here who would do … something … to a pretty young lass like that. But we had no idea what we were about to see in there…
There were a few nasty coincidences too.
—Really?
—Yeah. Not nice ones either. First one is that the woman who’s walking her dog has been listening to a podcast. Not yours, but one about the Crimean War.
—Really?
—Yes. And the episode she was listening to was about the Battle of the Alma. Same battle they captured the Beast from the East in.
—With respect, it’s just a coincidence – quite a big one, I’ll grant you. A coincidence all the same.
—The woman who found her was listening to this podcast about the Battle of the Alma when Henry began bringing her the clothes. It’s not right is it? It’s horrible.
There’s another unpleasant coincidence at play too: the cold snap in the UK that began on the 24th of February 2018 actually came from Russia as well. An arctic air mass that, combined with Storm Emma, covered most of Europe, bringing sub-zero temperatures and winds direct from Siberia. The UK Met Office issued red weather warnings.
Elizabeth Barton’s death was one of eighteen attributed to this new ‘Beast from the East’.
The autopsy on Elizabeth Barton’s body was unable to ascertain exactly who or what removed Elizabeth’s head, save that it was done post-mortem. It is likely, according to the coroner, that at some point in the night the young woman lost consciousness in the extreme cold.
As it was back in 1854, when the Ergarth Vampire legend began, this weather was utilised by Solomon Meer, Martin Flynn and George Meldby. We’ll get to them presently. Let’s stay with Rob, Elizabeth and the tower.
—So you had to break in to Tankerville Tower to find her?
—Yes, more or less. By then the police had arrived too and we were instructed to go inside. The security around the place was pretty shoddy – not like it is now. Then it was just a flimsy, chicken-wire fence with some half-hearted barbed wire on top. Someone had lopped through it long ago, so it just opened, like a door. It took us all of a few minutes to find the opening. We pulled back the fence and went in first. We had our helmets on and all our protective gear, thank God, cos the cold out there … The boards over the door to the tower had rotted away long before, so the council had just recently put new grates over the doorway … again. But the grate was all dented and battered, half hanging off with this gap at the bottom where the dog must have got in.
It’s dark in there, even in broad daylight; it stinks as well: bat shit, bird shit, salt. The stone’s all wet and slippery. No snow had got inside. There was a load of rubbish in there – sleeping bags and that from the homeless. She was all crumpled up in the far corner. No clothes on; head on her legs, staring at us. I’ll never forget that sight, long as I live.
Elizabeth Barton had been dead for hours; she was naked, her fingers and toes were blue, and the hair on her decapitated head, placed on her prone legs, just above her knees, shone with ice. An ambulance was called and the body was taken away by paramedics. Rob and the other fire-fighters and first responders left the tower and a perimeter was set up and forensics attended the scene. The poor weather conditions made the investigation difficult but the following theory was eventually constructed:
At some point during the evening of the third of March 2018, the grate that covered the doorway into Tankerville Tower was partly removed. Elizabeth Barton entered the tower alone and the grate was bent back into place by the three young men – their DNA was found all over it. Elizabeth Barton was too weak to move the grate herself, and died of hypothermia after, it’s assumed, undressing herself at some point during the night. Paradoxical undressing can occur when hypothermia sets in. When the body’s core temperature has dropped too low, the blood vessels contract to prevent loss of heat – resulting in a hot flash that makes the already weak and disoriented hypothermic person think they are too hot. Elizabeth’s body, save for the decapitation of her head, had not been interfered with … eliminating a sexual motive for her murder.
Solomon Meer, Martin Flynn and George Meldby were accused of bending back the grate and then coercing Elizabeth into the tower
and leaving her there until her death. Phone records show that it was Solomon Meer who told Elizabeth she should come to Tankerville Tower, presumably to complete her online video Dead in Six Days challenge. As Elizabeth Barton reportedly had little to do with Solomon Meer, it is still not known why she answered his summons. Maybe we’ll never know. I put this to Rob.
—It’s always those what are trying to do good, isn’t it?
—I’m not sure what you mean.
—I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but a lot of people round here say that Elizabeth Barton was setting up a good cause, a foundation to help people.
—Help who?
—The druggies in the town, and the … well … them what hung round in the tower, I suppose. Like I say, it’s always the good ones…
There’s an unpleasant piece of irony here. The Elizabeth Barton Tower Foundation unfortunately never came to fruition. Instead, this well-intentioned young woman ended up dead in the very place she was trying to do some good.
Perhaps most shocking was what happened to Elizabeth after she passed out and died from cold. Her head was severed with something very sharp; it is assumed a blade from the abattoir owned by the family of Martin Flynn. It is not known for sure which of the three committed this particular act as the weapon was never found. DNA from all three perpetrators was found on Elizabeth’s body but, in view of Solomon Meer’s penchant for vampires, it is assumed that he committed this diabolical act.
—Rob, did you know Solomon Meer, Martin Flynn or George Meldby? Were any of them known to the police or the fire service?
—Oh aye. Georgie bloody Meldby – the little firebug; we all knew him. Even before the Fellman’s factory burned down.
Beast Page 3
