Death Comes Knocking: Policing Roy Grace’s Brighton

by Graham Bartlett

  Meanwhile, Peggy’s warnings coupled with her own suspicions induced Pam to dig a little further into this enigma. During a call to her son Dave in Australia, he admitted that he had seen no reason to be wary but promised to play around online to see what he could come up with.

  To his surprise, Al had been busy. A simple internet search uncovered a breathtakingly arrogant website which purported to catalogue Dhalla’s claims to various athletic, military, charitable and educational accomplishments. Titled ‘The Memoirs Of Al Dhalla (His Legacy And Contributions To Society)’ it read like a Boy’s Own sketch of a swashbuckling modern-day conquistador. Worryingly too, it paraded several, clearly staged, photographs of Dhalla with various women who he proclaimed were former girlfriends. Of most concern were nearly forty snaps of the woman he described as his fiancée. The woman who had gently rejected his proposal on those silver Greek sands.

  Pam became more and more determined to protect her daughter from this man who at best was delusional, at worst predatory. Never had she thought she would need to immerse herself in the murky undercover world of secret surveillance, but never had she feared for her child like she did now.

  Having researched extensively, she eventually found a private eye who she felt might fit the bill. After some mutual jousting to test each other’s credibility, Pam decided that Elliot was the detective who would be charged with unmasking Dhalla for what he was. She had been mildly surprised that she would never meet him in person, but he appeared thorough and the fact that he had contacts in Canada seemed ideal.

  Al’s behaviour was becoming increasingly possessive. Despite the clear rejections of his marriage proposals, he persisted in his determination to get Alison down the aisle. Having been confronted by her about the website, he casually fobbed her off. He was by now starting to show a darkly offensive and condescending manner to others when he did not get exactly what he wanted. Alison brushed all this to one side. She had bigger worries, as there was an investigation at work following the death of one of her patients that was causing her great concern.

  In October 2010, Alison and Al were invited to join David and Pam on a short break to their villa on the Costa Blanca in Spain. Around this time Elliot had revealed that he was convinced Al was not the orphan he purported to be. He was sure that Dhalla’s passport would confirm that.

  One afternoon, while Alison and Al were out for a walk, Pam and David seized the moment and after a brief search they found what they were looking for. The pages of Al’s blue Canadian passport revealed not only his fictitious age and the lie about how long he had been in the UK, but that the aunt he had talked so often about, Gulshan, was in fact his mother. The whole car crash story had been a sickening sham.

  After about half an hour, Alison and Al arrived back at the villa. As they put their stuff back in their room a sixth sense overcame Al. Something told him that all was not how he left it. Darting straight to the bedside cabinet, he became incandescent with rage. Someone had been messing with his papers. Someone had been snooping.

  A furious row followed with Dhalla shouting and swearing, alleging all sorts of breaches of trust and declaring his hatred of Alison’s parents. He was uncontrollable. Alison had not seen this side of him before. It scared her but still she tried to placate him. After all, she knew of none of her family’s suspicions so saw his accusations as bizarre.

  Al’s anger intensified over that day and into the next. His rage saw him crashing furniture around their small bedroom. Alison persuaded him to take a walk with her to cool off but still he remained incandescent, lashing out at thin air. Even sleep did not pacify him. At 5 a.m. Alison was awoken by him venting his temper again. Efforts to mollify this spoiled child were wasted.

  Pam and David decided they needed to confront Al with what they had found. They tried to tell him that they knew he was lying and that they were worried about their daughter. Nothing they said made him see reason.

  Inconsolable, the fuming Dhalla grabbed his belongings, stuffed them into a bag, stormed out of the villa, jumped into a taxi and headed for the airport. Seeing that Alison deserved some explanation, Pam and David sat her down and gently told her all. They delicately took her through Peggy’s warnings, their suspicions, the findings of the private detective and now, the proof they had that Dhalla was a liar.

  While confused and angry, Alison remained blind to the risks that Dhalla posed. She felt there had to be a reasonable explanation but it now dawned on her that Peggy had been right; Al was not the man for her.

  Once back in the UK, Alison confronted him with what she had been told. He had already admitted lying about his age and his time in the UK but now he finally confessed that the whole orphan story was also made up. So distraught was he over his troubled and fractured family that to the outside world he had effectively airbrushed them from his life, re-designating his mother as his aunt. He said he had been telling this story since he was a little boy as a way to stop people asking too many questions.

  Al knew he had to let Alison in on some more of his secrets if he was ever to make her his bride. To her horror, he revealed that he had a dark and violent past. Depicting himself as the victim, he described how, in self-defence, he’d hospitalized an uncle who was attacking him. He tried to justify the fact he’d grabbed a kitchen knife and used it by saying he had finally found the courage to stand up for himself. However, given his uncle’s injuries the court was left with no option than to imprison him.

  As time passed, Alison was starting to make concerted efforts to split up with Al but he simply refused to move out of her flat. It was becoming unbearable. She was worn down by his intransigence together with the pressure brought by the investigation at work.

  She desperately needed to get away and recharge her batteries. In better times, they had booked a holiday to Canada, so she agreed to keep to those plans and use the break as an opportunity to rest.

  Being stalked and intimidated saps so much spirit from victims that they often do things that look odd to those observing from the sidelines and to themselves looking back. Alison described it when she advised me on this chapter as ‘dumb in hindsight’ but she was burned out and in desperate need to get away from it all – even if it was with Dhalla. While there she met the woman Al had by now admitted was his mother.

  Back home, Elliot was revealing to Pam all the dreadful facts he had learned about Dhalla. The man had served at least two prison terms, had a history of violence including, as recently as in 2006, using a knife to assault his uncle. He was banned from possessing weapons in his homeland and had been barred from entering the USA. Pam shared Elliot’s worries that the trip to Canada might be a ruse to engineer Alison’s kidnapping.

  Despite those fears being unfounded, on the couple’s return to the UK their relationship was going from bad to worse. Warnings, which had been coming thick and fast from Pam, were starting to come true.

  Alison’s renewed vigour since the Canadian holiday had given her the strength to try to get Al out of her flat once and for all. Despite this, she was becoming aware that he was reading her emails and texts, as he seemed to know her day-to-day movements.

  During a busy Christmas Eve night shift, following yet another attempt to get through to Al that the relationship was over, Alison returned to find all the festive decorations ripped down and her degree certificate destroyed in the dustbin. He later denied this but Alison is positive in her claims and there seems no reason to doubt her.

  Even visits by the police, triggered by Pam, and an enforced eviction by David and Alison’s brother Paul did not stop Al’s obsessive behaviour. This time it was through the cynical use of silence.

  As any stalking victim will confirm, the terror never lets up. The acts themselves are appalling but the anticipation and the fear of what will happen next are equally sinister. He piled on the pressure by doing nothing for a while.

  When he broke cover, it was a multi-pronged attack on the reputations and characters of all who had crossed hi
m. A letter to the hospital accusing Alison of murder and theft of drugs was the first twist of the knife. In letters to those he had celebrated with at Pam and David’s wedding, he accused the whole family of drug dealing, possession of weapons, domestic violence, using prostitutes and failing to bury Alison’s grandfather properly. The accusations were as diverse as they were ludicrous.

  On their own, these attempts to turn loyal friends, colleagues and employers against such decent people as the Hewitts would be laughable. However, each poison pen letter hurt. The family tried to remain optimistic, hoping that life would settle down once his rage had burned out. If only.

  Guessing that Pam and David had employed a private eye, Al did likewise, securing the local services of Tony Yates. Unlike Elliot’s brief, Tony’s was not just to find out information. It was to watch Alison twenty-four seven. See where she went, whom she met and what she did. That was pretty standard. When the requests escalated to asking him to get her to confess who she’d had sex with recently and whether David used prostitutes, Yates became suspicious and refused.

  Reality had now dawned on Alison and she knew it was time to involve the police. She had already tried obtaining an injunction but, curiously, this failed as she could not provide a current address for him. Alison had produced a stack of incriminating letters from Al, which were more than enough for us to launch an investigation from. She had suffered so much, as so many do before they go to the police. I am always astounded by what people will go through before they think they can report it. We never really get across well enough that no-one has to put up with violence, abuse and intimidation. The thresholds for police intervention are surprisingly low. Despite what people imagine, there really are no ‘more important things’ for us to be getting on with.

  Thankfully, one of Brighton and Hove’s finest and most sensitive detectives, Emily Hoare, now had a grip of this case and would be part of Alison’s life for the next critical months, providing her a vital lifeline.

  Nev had clearly got his head around this harrowing and haunting case. He had ramped up the police activity and ensured that he would now be kept personally informed at every turn. He brought me up to speed with what we knew now and what we were doing about it.

  Frustrated by his world collapsing around him, Al was now trying the more direct approach. Not quite as direct as Want You Dead’s Bryce however. There were no incendiary bombs in supermarkets or mysterious Queen of Hearts drawn in the shower room condensation but his tactics were no less petrifying.

  Just when Alison had assumed Al would be keeping his distance, one Sunday in March 2011, as she was leaving for work, he appeared bold as brass at her front door.

  Ever the optimist, Alison decided to agree to his request to ‘just talk’ but on the strict condition that the conversation would last only as long as the short walk to the hospital and then that would be the end.

  He managed to convince her that he had moved back to London and had pawned the rejected engagement ring. He tried to assure her that he had got the message and just wanted to know where it had all gone wrong. Alison didn’t want that conversation; she was determined for him to hear loud and clear that he was ruining her life.

  Beneath that facade of acquiescence, however, the embers of Dhalla’s wrath had ignited once more. He upped his campaign against Alison and her friends with various out-of-the-blue visits. His ingenuity in finding ways to harass her knew no bounds. Discovering her work pattern to plan when to target her and inviting himself to her friend’s wedding ‘as a romantic surprise’ were just two ways by which he turned the screw.

  His scariest act to date, however, was waiting at the end of Alison’s driveway for her to get home and, picking his moment, leaping in through her unlocked passenger door. Terrified, she crunched the gearshift into reverse and drove onto the main street, parking next to a coffee shop, as she was confident that he was too smart to become violent in the public gaze.

  As if completely oblivious to the effects of his actions, while Alison trembled in the driver’s seat, he calmly announced he had tickets to Leeds Castle and would she like to come?

  She persuaded him to get out of the car on the promise that she would see him a few days later. As he appeared to have fallen for this, she called the police. Recognizing the urgency of her plight, our response was swift. Unfortunately, despite a thorough search, Dhalla was nowhere to be found – although the officers told Alison they thought they glimpsed him getting onto a bus nearby but were unable to confirm it.

  Alison’s feigned promise to see him again provided a fabulous opportunity for the diligent officers. While the search for him continued and warnings were added to her address record at the Force Control Room, a plan was hatched.

  That Monday, for once, it looked like Dhalla was running late. The best-laid plans can be blown out of the water by an unreliable target, as happens occasionally. However, soon enough Al rapped on Alison’s door. He was expecting a fair-haired professional to open the door – just not that the person would also be six foot tall, wearing police uniform and going by the name of Rick.

  After a pathetic protest he was handcuffed, marched away to a waiting car and driven off to the cells. As with many so-called brave inmates of the cells at Brighton Custody Suite, once safely behind the cell door he effed and blinded and, with complete futility, tried to crash his way through the four-inch metal door.

  He was eventually released on bail on the condition that he did not contact Alison or enter Sussex. As Nev briefed me, I sensed that he had little optimism, that this would dissuade Dhalla from his relentless campaign of terror.

  ‘So you see, he is heading towards some kind of endgame scenario,’ he told me. He was certain that Dhalla was not going to stop until he died or went to prison. From the days when Nev had been my deputy, when I was head of public protection, we both knew these types. Evil personified.

  ‘Go with it, Nev, and don’t spare the horses. You are right, he is building up to something. Your job is to stop him. Whatever you require, you’ve got it. If you need me to open doors to get it, just shout. Keep me informed day and night.’

  Not long after, Nev’s fears were confirmed. On Mother’s Day, a sharp-eyed farmer 120 miles away in Wiltshire reported a man firing weapons in his fields. Erring on the side of caution, armed police were dispatched. It takes a lot to spook firearms officers. They are tough, fit and very well trained. However, when they approached this particular shooter, something made them feel so uneasy that they discreetly lowered their hands to hover over their pistol grips.

  Introducing himself as Al Amin Dhalla, his icy stare pierced straight through them. His answers were brief, his whole aura chilling. He explained he was ‘just doing some target practice’ with his crossbow. Crossbows are deadly weapons and take expert handling if you want to make a clean kill. Bryce honed his accuracy skills by shooting watermelons while preparing to assassinate Grace at his wedding just as Al had been practising with silhouette targets in this remote meadow.

  The search of his van told a sinister story. He wouldn’t explain the hammer, blowtorch, goggles and high-powered air rifle they found. Nor would he account for why the van had been modified in such a way that someone inside could move from front to back, or a person could be locked there unseen from the outside. There was even a grille fitted through which a weapon could be fired. As for the addresses, including the ferry terminal to Lundy Island, saved as favourites in his satnav, he was saying nothing.

  His choice of weapons had been clever. While deadly, none were illegal. Only his trespassing and out-of-date Canadian driving licence gave the officers grounds for arrest, but it did allow the van and his murderous arsenal to be seized. Despite all the background information from Brighton and the excellent case put forward by Wiltshire Police and Crown Prosecution Service, the charges were at the very lowest end of the scale and the magistrates released Dhalla on bail with the condition that he lived at a particular hotel. In many ways their hands were tied.
Dhalla, on the other hand, couldn’t believe his luck.

  Nev strode round to my office with an inevitable update.

  ‘Dhalla has left his bail address. I’m certain the target practice was so he could wreak revenge on the Hewitt and Gray families. The addresses in the satnav show he has an interest in Aston Abbotts. My single most important objective now is to protect Alison and her parents. It’s a race against time. We can arrest him for breaching his bail but I wouldn’t bet on him being remanded for long on that charge. We’ve now got at least three forces involved. I don’t really know where he is or when he will strike next, but it is a when, not an if.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Are we still the lead force? I wouldn’t want any ambiguity about who is in charge to allow anything to fall between the gaps.’

  ‘Yes. I’m the SIO and I am getting great co-operation from the other forces. Everyone sees the risk.’

  ‘Well done. Make sure it stays that way. Would you like me to brief the ACC, given it’s cross border?’

  We all know that can be a thankless task, through Grace’s experiences with ACCs Vosper, Rigg and the odious Pewe. Thankfully, my bosses were far more approachable.

  ‘Oh yes, if you don’t mind, thanks. Tell him too that if it becomes a firearms job here, Superintendent Steve Whitton is Gold and Chief Inspector Jim Bartlett is Silver.’ I was most relieved. Steve was the best commander the force had, and my deputy at Brighton, and Jim, as well as being a fine leader, is my stepbrother.

  Nev’s eagerness was tempered with just the right mix of anxiety. He was leading a battle of wits to predict and prevent Dhalla’s next move: a fight to protect three innocent lives from a hunter so driven, so focused, that it seemed he would stop at nothing until he had his prey. The stakes couldn’t be higher.