by John Askill
Mr Gibson’s successor, Allister Stewart, arrived as the future of paediatrics in Grantham hung in the balance. There were genuine fears among nurses and doctors that the awful events which had spanned those sixty dreadful days might lead to the enforced closure of the Children’s Ward with services moved to another hospital. The ward was to survive – but only just.
In September 1992, almost a year after Nurse Allitt’s arrest, staff from the Queen’s Medical Centre in Nottingham were asked to take over the running of all children’s health care in Grantham. The ward would remain open but it would be run by another hospital twenty-five miles away.
Union official Jenny Flood described the takeover as a ‘slight on the people of Grantham’. She added: ‘I believe it will do nothing to restore public confidence in the local service or indeed restore the shattered staff morale.’ Hospital general manager, Mr Stewart, put on a brave face. He said: ‘We are delighted that paediatric services will remain local and we recognize that the service will benefit from having a link with a centre of excellence.’
On Monday, 15 February, 1993, two years after the first death that of seven week old Liam Taylor on Ward Four, Beverley Gail Allitt walked into the dock in Court One at Nottingham Crown Court. There had been such a clamour for seats in the courtroom that a ticket system had been introduced and a loudspeaker relay was linked to an ‘overflow court’ set up temporarily in the pressroom.
The stage was set for a dramatic trial though the judge, Mr Justice Latham, could not know the dramas that would unfold in the weeks ahead as he took his place, resplendent in his red robes. Before him was prosecutor John Goldring, QC, and defence counsel, James Hunt, both of whom had spent months preparing for this moment. Both counsel had junior barristers, for the prosecution Nigel Rumfitt and, for the defence, Dudley Bennett, ready to help analyse every shred of evidence in the weeks and months ahead. Allitt’s solicitor, John Kendall, sat with a mountain of files at his feet on the back row of the legal benches, closest to the dock.
As it turned out, all those touched most by the case were missing. Allitt’s parents, Richard and Lillian, had been advised to stay away; it was felt the trauma would be too much to bear. The parents of all the children who had suffered were also absent. They were to be called as crucial prosecution witnesses and were not allowed, therefore, to attend in case their evidence was affected by what they heard in open court. Instead they would sit at home, reluctantly forced to follow newspaper and television reports of the trial.
A hush descended as Mr Justice Latham announced: ‘Bring in the defendant’.
If Beverley Allitt had been dreading this moment – as surely she must – there was no sign of it. At 12.05pm she walked through the door at the back of the dock into court with her head high, flanked by two women nurses from Rampton. She had been in custody for 453 days. Every eye in the courtroom focused on her gaunt, elfin face, her fair hair cropped boyishly short. She wore blue trousers with a white shirt and blue cardigan which hid her skeleton frame, ravaged by the effects of her anorexia. There was not a hint of colour in her ashen-white cheeks.
Allitt avoided every gaze, staring blankly, straight ahead of her in the direction of the judge. There was not even a flicker of emotion, no sign of nerves, as one by one the members of the jury – seven men and five women – took their places, each of them warned to expect a trial lasting up to three months. Here before them was a woman who, if they convicted her, would go down in legal history as Britain’s worst woman serial killer, accused of more murders than even infamous Moors murderess Myra Hindley.
But was she guilty? The prosecution was in no doubt that she was. He spent a day and a half telling the jurors how the nurse standing before them had systematically attacked one innocent, sick child after another. No one had seen her do it. Nobody had witnessed her dreadful attacks. It wasn’t even possible to be sure exactly what she had done to them. Some – Becky Phillips, Paul Crampton and the fragile old lady, Dorothy Lowe – had been deliberately injected with insulin. Others had collapsed when she had given them another drug or a cocktail of drugs; Claire Peck had been injected with a deadly dose of potassium chloride. With some she may simply have placed a hand over their tiny mouths to stop them breathing. Mr Goldring for the Crown, speaking calmly and without any emotive phrases, told the jurors: ‘We cannot say in each case what the defendant did. No one was watching her. Nurses are not expected to assault their patients.’ Nor could he tell why she had attacked them. She had been trained at Grantham and Kesteven Hospital but had been off work so often, owing to various illnesses, that she had needed extra time to qualify as a nurse. She was also rejected by the nearby Pilgrim Hospital, Boston, and faced the grim prospect of being unemployed until Grantham had come to her rescue with a six-month contract on the Children’s Ward.
On Ward Four there was a ‘chilling pattern’ to the attacks. Painstaking analysis of all the evidence revealed that Nurse Allitt was always there. She had been on duty on every occasion the children had collapsed. Youngsters had been safe when she was not at work. And the entire series of attacks had stopped upon her arrest.
There was damning evidence against Allitt. When the police began their enquiries they discovered that someone had tampered with the Ward Notebook, which was kept at the Nursing Station on Ward Four and used to make rough notes about patients. Mr Goldring said that someone had not wanted the police to see all the pages and had taken a pair of scissors to cut several of them from the book. It was no coincidence that the missing pages covered the period during which Paul Crampton, who had survived a massive overdose of insulin, had stayed on Ward Four.
Another medical record file, the Ward Allocation Book, which indicated which nurse had been assigned to which patient, had also disappeared from the ward. When the police searched Allitt’s home, they had found it tucked in a bag in her wardrobe. Mr Goldring asked the jury: ‘What was it doing there?’, and commented ‘Her explanation was wholly unconvincing.’
Detectives also discovered that the key to the ward’s drug refrigerator, where various medicines (including insulin) were locked, had also strangely disappeared soon after Allitt arrived on the ward. She had been given a bunch of all the ward keys when she was on duty, but then reported that the fridge key was missing. All attempts to trace it had failed. Mr Goldring told the jury: ‘You may come to the conclusion that she had taken the fridge key … also that she was less than frank about it all with the police.’
The diary of heart attacks, respiratory failures, deaths and lucky escapes, exposing the strengths and weaknesses of the prosecution case, was detailed by Mr Goldring. Liam Taylor, admitted with a chest infection, suffered a massive heart attack while he was being ‘specialled’ by Allitt. Mr Goldring alleged she had killed him either by administering a drug or a strong mixture of drugs or even by placing her hand over his nose and mouth to stop him breathing.
Timothy Hardwick, admitted after suffering an epileptic fit, was recovering while being nursed by Allitt, but within an hour he was dead from a heart attack. The prosecution alleged Allitt killed him, but they didn’t know how.
Kayley Desmond, admitted with a chest infection and feeding difficulties, collapsed and stopped breathing three times while being nursed by Allitt. Air had been pumped into her right armpit. The prosecution alleged that Allitt had taken a syringe into her cubicle and deliberately injected her, Kayley survived.
Paul Crampton, admitted with a chest infection, collapsed three times with massive hypoglycemic attacks – a dramatic drop in his blood sugar-level – while Allitt nursed him. She had injected him with a huge overdose of insulin equal to a full adult syringe. Paul should have died but he survived.
Bradley Gibson, admitted with broncho-pneumonia, was alone with Allitt when he suffered a massive heart attack and ‘died’ for thirty-two minutes. The prosecution said they believed he had been poisoned through his drip feed with an unknown drug or a mixture of drugs. Bradley survived.
Henry Chan, adm
itted with a fractured skull after falling from an upstairs window at home, was alone with Allitt when he stopped breathing and turned dark blue. The prosecution claimed Allitt had placed her hand over his nose and mouth as he slept. Henry survived.
Becky Phillips, was sent home from Ward Four after treatment for vomiting. She died the same night at home. The prosecution alleged that Allitt injected her with slow-acting insulin on Ward Four, either under the skin or into a muscle. She died from a massive hypoglycemic attack.
Katie Phillips, admitted purely for observation, was being ‘specialled’ by Allitt when she turned blue and stopped breathing. The prosecution alleged Allitt had suffocated her with a hand over her mouth and nose. Katie also had five broken ribs caused by Allitt squeezing her so hard it would have also stopped her breathing. Katie survived two more attacks. But she suffered severe brain damage.
Michael Davidson, admitted after being accidentally shot in the stomach with an airgun, collapsed after a doctor injected him with a syringe prepared by Allitt; this caused his heart to stop. The prosecution alleged that Allitt had tampered with the drug. Michael survived.
Christopher Peasgood, admitted with a chest infection, turned blue and stopped breathing seconds after being left with Allitt. He recovered, then collapsed a second time with Allitt at his side. The prosecution said it was ‘not simply coincidence’ that he had collapsed the moment Allitt took over. She must have interfered with his breathing. Christopher survived.
Christopher King, admitted with vomiting, was alone with Allitt when he turned blue and stopped breathing. The prosecution alleged that Allitt used asphyxiation or a drug. Christopher survived.
Patrick Elstone, admitted with diarrhoea, stopped breathing and turned blue; his emergency alarm had been switched off. Patrick survived but with serious and lasting damage.
Claire Peck, admitted with asthma, was alone with Allitt when she stopped breathing and turned dark blue. She recovered. Then she collapsed again while Allitt was alone with her. The prosecution alleged that she was poisoned with potassium, either injected or introduced through her drip.
Dorothy Lowe, a resident in an old people’s home where Allitt worked in her spare time, suffered a hypoglycemic attack. Allitt was seen giving her an unscheduled injection of insulin. She survived.
Jonathan Jobson, collapsed while on a trip to a Sunday market with Allitt and his mother Eileen. The prosecution alleged that he suffered a hypoglycemic attack after Allitt doctored a soft drink with insulin-producing tablets. Jonathan survived.
As the story unfolded, Allitt sat almost transfixed as if she had switched off. Very occasionally she flicked a darting glance in the direction of the jury. Mr Goldring, anticipating the inevitable question in the jury’s mind, raised the issue of motive. He said: ‘Why should a nurse do these things? The short answer is, we do not know. If you are satisfied she did it, you must convict her, even if you are baffled as to why’.
He went on: ‘You must not speculate on her mental state in your verdict. You have to decide, did she do these things? Not why’.
Mr Goldring began calling the evidence. One after another the parents were called into the witness box, giving evidence just a few yards across the court from where Allitt was sitting. For some it was too much of an ordeal to bear. Sue Peck was so upset she couldn’t face it, and her statement had to be read to the jury. Chris Taylor choked back his tears. Mercifully his wife Joanne was spared the ordeal when she was not called. But she broke down in the public gallery and had to be led from court. Nobody knew just how much her emotions were in turmoil. She had only just been told that she was expecting another baby.
Doctors, nurses and medical experts followed the parents into the witness box. The saddest must surely have been paediatrician Dr Nannayakkara. The jury heard how he had been so unhappy with the post mortem results on the very first victim, Liam Taylor, that he had pleaded for a specialist paediatric pathologist to check the findings, but his request had been turned down. He also told how much he regretted bringing perfectly well Katie Phillips into the hospital for checks after the death of twin sister Becky. He told the jury: ‘I wish now I hadn’t’.
The trial was entering its fifth week when it came to a sudden halt. Allitt collapsed at Rampton while the court was in recess for three days for legal argument. She was rushed to the Bassetlaw Hospital at nearby Worksop in Nottinghamshire where doctors battled to keep her alive. Her barrister, Mr Hunt, announced that she was suffering from the severe effects of anorexia nervosa. She was being fed through the nose by ‘nasal gastric tube’ and she was ‘grossly underweight’.
Back in Grantham, the parents who feared the trial was about to be abandoned were furious. They were convinced it was just another cynical piece of theatre from Allitt’s repertoire of feigned illnesses; a clever attempt to gain sympathy and escape justice. Chris Taylor was damning in his condemnation. ‘She’s just a very wicked and evil person. I’m sure she is just putting it on’. Sue Phillips snapped: ‘She’s just making herself ill again. It’s what she’s been doing for years’.
Back in court Mr Justice Latham and the two counsel were presented with a legal dilemma. How could the trial carry on without a defendant in the dock? After the months of detective work, painstaking analysis by the world’s medical experts and the agonizing ordeal of the families, was it about to end with no verdict at all? Allitt herself provided the answer. When Mr Hunt visited her in the specialist psychiatric wing at Bassetlaw Hospital she declared that she was willing for the case to continue in her absence, even though she would not be in the dock to hear the evidence against her.
When the court resumed on 22 March there was an empty chair in the dock where Allitt should have been sitting. Later she wrote a long letter to the judge explaining that she was fit to give instructions to her lawyers but she did not want to give evidence herself to the court from the witness box. Instead, she would leave it to her Counsel to present her defence. She also made it clear that she would not have wanted to give evidence herself, even had she been well enough to do so.
Instead, it was left to police officers to tell the jury just how strongly she had protested her innocence when she was questioned by them. She told them she had done nothing wrong. In one interview with Detective Inspector Neil Jones she had told him: ‘It can’t be no fault I’m making. What can I do deliberately to do it? I wouldn’t know what to do. Something has happened, yes, but I just can’t help being there, can I?’
The Inspector told her: ‘You are a young lady, just been made an enrolled nurse. Have you got to prove your credibility on that ward or show them you are the best one?’. Allitt replied: ‘I have got nothing to prove. I just want to be a Staff Nurse. That is as far as I go’.
In five hours of taped questioning she still denied committing any offences. When she was asked about the attack on Paul Crampton she insisted: ‘I told you. I didn’t do it. I am telling the truth – God’s honour. I deny giving him anything whatsoever, other than the medication prescribed. I would not give anything maliciously’.
The detectives asked her if she had a problem, to which Allitt replied: ‘I tell you what. I will see a psychiatrist if you want, and I will talk to them. There is no problem.’ She added: ‘I am just fed up. I am being accused of something what I haven’t done and I wouldn’t dream of doing. I cannot get it through to nobody. No matter what you say, I am sticking to my story, I didn’t bloody do it. I am not bloody lying. Everyone on that ward knows how much nursing means to me. It means more than living.’
* * *
During the trial, Sue Phillips kept her mind occupied by snipping newspaper cuttings and typing notes for her bulging files in which she recorded everything that had happened. Giving evidence in the witness box, though she was outwardly clear and strong, had tested the very depths of her drained emotions at the end of nearly two years of torment since Becky’s death and Katie’s miraculous escape. But somehow the mere task of recording every detail, her determination to
miss nothing, helped numb the pain of the memories the trial had brought flooding back.
It was while she was busily typing in her dining room that Sue felt she was being watched. She wasn’t sure what made her look round at the glass partition dividing the room from the hallway, except that she was convinced that someone was there. She decided that husband Peter was playing jokes and walked into the lounge, only to find him dozing on the settee with Katie sleeping quietly in his arms. It clearly wasn’t him. Sue decided to carry on her work, but moved seats, so she was facing the glass partition.
What suddenly appeared before her made her gasp. In the glass just four feet in front of her appeared a face, staring at her from the hallway. Then it was gone. Sue ran into the lounge, expecting to find Peter laughing at the joke. But he was still asleep with Katie. She thought she heard a noise in the room above and dashed upstairs. But four year old son Jamie was asleep in his bed. Sue said: ‘I felt such a fool. I was so convinced that the face was real but I knew it must be my imagination after all the tensions of the trial. I kept thinking: “Oh! God! I’m seeing things now”. I knew I’d got to pull myself together or I would think I was going mad.’
Sue went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. When Peter woke up, she made a joke of it and they both laughed. The next morning, little Jamie was getting ready for school when he announced: ‘Becky came to see me last night, mummy. She came to my bedroom and talked to me’.
Sue recalls thinking she was going to faint. Becky had been dead for two years. They had buried her in a white coffin with her teddies alongside; Sue could remember tossing a red rose into her grave. Jamie was aged two at the time but he was always closer to Becky than he was to her twin sister Katie.
Sue said: ‘When I found my voice, I asked Jamie what Becky was like. He said she often came to see him. He said: “She different now, Mum. She’s got long blonde hair and she can walk, not like Katie.” ‘He told me when she went to see him at night, Becky had a glowing light behind her head. I’ve never believed in anything like this before and I felt a mixture of fear and excitement inside me. I just knew that Becky had come home.’
