by Gitta Sereny
Questioned about Martin at the beginning of her examination-in-chief, Mary’s description differed from Norma’s in several essential details. By this time of the trial—to all of which she had paid close attention—all witnesses (except one) had given their evidence: the boys who had found Martin; the workmen who had tried to revive him; the pathologist who had examined him; his mother and aunt, and Norman Lee, principal scientific officer of the Forensic Science Laboratory at Gosforth (Newcastle), who had testified that, “Five wool fibers found on Martin Brown’s clothing matched exactly those from a gray dress belonging to Mary Bell.” Martin’s death had, of course, remained an unsolved mystery for two months, and his clothing was kept at the police station and was only examined scientifically after Chief-Inspector Dobson reopened the investigation in August.
“. . . I want you to tell us all here, first of all,” said Harvey Robson, “about the day when Martin was found dead. Do you remember that day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you know Martin before that day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know his full name, or just the name of Martin?”
“Martin George Brown, sir.”
“You knew that at the time? Or did you only learn his full name later on?”
“I cannot remember, sir.” (The examination about Martin Brown first brought out Mary’s ability—phenomenal for someone of her age, education, and background—to absorb, remember, and later use the testimony she had heard and of using the technique of elaboration to deter uncomfortable or dangerous questions.)
“Where had you seen him before that day?”
“In—” this is where she began the first of her often successful attempts to throw her audience “off the scent.” “I think it was Voting Day,” she said thoughtfully, “because me and Pat Howe went down to June’s house and they have got a dog called Pat and it has got a leash and she was saying to Martin about twiddling the leash around and that . . .”
“Was that on the same day?”
“A couple of weeks before he died, sir,” she said politely. (But, as it turned out a moment later, she had already achieved her objective of getting everybody thoroughly confused.)
“Earlier than that day, during the weeks or months before that day,” said Mr. Robson, “had you seen Martin about?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“He used to play around the streets with Mrs. Finlay’s child.”
“Now, you say you saw him on that day when something was done with the dog’s lead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where was that done?”
“In his house, sir.”
“And at about what time of the day?” (All this was immaterial as “that day” was one several weeks before the day of Martin’s death.)
“About half-past eleven or quarter to, sir.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when that had happened, did you go to your home for dinner?”
“Well, we had to wait until June came back.”
“Until what came back?”
“June, Martin’s mam came back from Delaval Road because that was where the voting was being held.”
Mr. Justice Cusack now intervened. “I think,” he said dryly, “she said the dog leash incident was a couple of weeks before Martin died.”
“Is that right?” Mr. Harvey Robson asked.
“Yes, sir,” Mary replied artlessly.
“Then on that morning . . .”
This time it was the prosecutor, Mr. Lyons, who interrupted. “I thought she said on Voting Day first.”
“That is certainly not what I heard,” said the Judge. “We can verify it later if need be.”
“On the day that he was found dead in the house,” Mr. Robson specified, getting Mary firmly back to the point, “Mary, did you see Martin in the morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“I gave him a swing. I saw him coming out of Rita’s place and gave him a swing by Fothergill’s wall.”
(This is a reply which, later in his address to the Jury, referring to the scientific evidence of fibers from Mary’s dress being found on Martin’s clothing, the prosecutor was to describe in the following terms: “One of the fibers,” said Mr. Lyons, “was on his undervest. How did it get there, members of the Jury? Might it not have been when little Martin was perhaps being pushed or lifted through that window? This you may think of the utmost importance: that on 18 September when Mary was interviewed by the police in the presence of her parents and solicitor, she said that she knew nothing about the finding of the fibers. Then she was asked about having played with Martin [and] she said she had never played with him. And then she went into the witness box and said that on the very day he died she gave him a swing on Fothergill’s wall. Why didn’t she say that to Chief-Inspector Dobson on 18 September when she was asked if she had ever played with him? Is it not obvious that what has happened is . . . that in her evidence Mary has adapted her evidence to fit the scientific evidence . . .?”)
“You gave him a swing?” Harvey Robson continued.
“A swing by Fothergill’s wall,” she repeated.
“. . . And was that before your dinner?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then did you go home to your dinner?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And after dinner, did you see Martin again, or not until you saw him in the ruined house?”
“I cannot remember, sir, but I went up to the top with Norma for some dog’s food.”
“That is the shop, is it?”
“Yes, sir. . . .”
“. . . Can you say about what time of the day that was when you went to the shop?”
“Er—about quarter to one or something.”
“About quarter to one. What time did you have your dinner, can you remember?”
“About ten past, because I let my dinner digest.”
“About ten past you say? Ten past one?”
“Twelve,” she corrected.
“So that you had your dinner before going to the shop and then you went to the shop with Norma and bought those things?”
“Yes, sir.” (Her replies threw all the timing that had been established into confusion.) “We doubled back down. We doubled back down to Crosshill way and then we went down Crosshill because I was going to go home the back way, and we went along . . .”
“Wait a minute. You say you went to Crosshill.” (This was a completely different description from the one given by Norma.)
“Yes.”
“Down Crosshill because you say you were going in the back way?”
“Yes, because the dog just barks if it hears the front gate open.”
“And did you notice anything when you got down Crosshill?”
“Well, we come along St Margaret’s Road and there was a crowd of people by the derelict houses.”
(According to Mary’s account of the time when all this happened, she and Norma would have come upon a “crowd of people by the derelict houses” long before the time when Martin really died.)
“Yes, what did you do then?”
“I think I gave the food to Norma and she gave it . . . she says she gave it to Colin or Mitchell.” (Boys who were only mentioned this one time, and were never called.)
“You did not see her give it to Colin or Mitchell?”
“No.”
“Where did Norma go when you gave her the food?”
“She went up the back way and through the pathway, through Maxine’s house [66 Whitehouse Road—Norma’s neighbor] and jumped over the wall, climbed over her fence.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went along to see what happened, what had happened.”
“When you got along, as you say, what did you find?”
“People were saying someone had met with an accident, somebody was dead. You know, different things. And of cours
e, I went up.”
“Yes? I think your last words were, ‘Of course, I went up.’”
“Well I always . . . I always go to see what has happened if there is anything happened.”
“Norma says that some time you went and called through the hole in the fence to her?”
“Er—yes, sir.”
“Had you been ‘up’ as you say before you went to call for her?”
“When the crowd was there and I went up and there was a boy in the workman’s arms and I went to tell Norma and because there is a hole in part of her fence, in the back fence, I shouted of her.”2
“When you saw the boy in the workman’s arms, did you recognize him then?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And who was it?”
“Martin George Brown, sir.”
“And then you say you went and called Norma?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, when you called Norma, did she come out and go with you?”
“She never come straight out, sir.”
“How long do you think passed before she came out?”
“She might have got a drink of water or something, sir.”
“Quite a short while?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Quite a short time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just while she had a drink of water or something of that kind?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then did she come out?”
“Yes, sir, she come out the back door.”
“And where did you go?”
“We went—I was already in the back lane, so she had to climb over her fence and come through the hole in her part and all.”
“And then what?”
“We went down to where the house was and we got up the stairs and there was just the boy and he shouted, ‘Go and get down’ and . . .”
“Wait, I think you have gone a little too fast. You say you went down to the house?”
“Yes, and . . .”
“And then where did you go when you reached the outside of the house?”
“I am not sure if we went through the downstairs part, but we went up through this washhouse thing. You would think it was a washhouse because there was a hole parting the two houses and you could get through it and we went through it and we went up and up some stone stairs and the door was a little bit jammed, so Norma put her finger in the bottom and pulled it, and we got up some wooden stairs.”
“And was that where the boy was?”
“No, we only got—when you get up the wooden stairs there is a scullery and then there is a sitting room and then through the sitting room there is a door and then there is a bedroom and another bedroom and stairs going down the front way and all.”
“Where was the boy who told you to go out?”
“He was in the bedroom. He was coming through the sitting room, sir.”
“So that you were up the wooden stairs?”
“You are going too fast for me,” Judge Cusack said. He was taking down a great deal of this evidence, and on several occasions asked counsel to slow down to enable him to keep pace.
Mr. Robson waited a moment. “So that, when the boy spoke to you, were you up the wooden steps as well as the stone steps?” he finally went on.
“Yes, sir.”
“And when he told you to get out, did you go down again?”
“Er—I think so, sir, I’m not sure.”
“And did the boy go down about the same time?”
“No, sir, I cannot remember.”
“When you went down, what did you do?”
“Someone—we went and told—er—what’s her name? Rita, sir.”
“Why did you go and tell Rita about it?”
“Because she was one of the nearest relations to Martin, because his mam lived right—well, not right down the bottom of St Margaret’s Road, but she lived round the back, down the bank, sir.”
“. . . Did anyone ask you about the little boy, as to who he was or anything like that?”
“I cannot remember, sir.”
“You cannot remember? Now. you went and saw Rita?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did you say to her when you got there?”
“Er—‘Martin’s met with an accident.’ But I cannot remember saying there was blood all over. I may have said that, sir.”
“Yes, what did Rita say?”
“She never believed us, sir, but Ann Carter waved over to her. I think it was Ann Carter—Mrs. Carter.”
“Somebody, at any rate, waved over. Waved from where?”
“From the outside of the crowd, sir.”
“And then what did Rita do?”
“She just dropped everything and ran because she . . .”
“And what did you do?”
“I followed her, sir.”
“Now, you have been talking about yourself. Was Norma with you at this time, or for part of this time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, and when you say you followed Rita, did Norma go with you?”
“She went back, sir, with us.”
“When you got back, what did you do?”
“I had already been upstairs, sir. I knew where Martin was and Rita never saw. I think Rita was in front of me or I was in front of Rita. I don’t know, sir, but I bumped into Rita somehow and she pulled herself up on us.”
After putting some more questions to her about her conversations with Rita Finlay and June Brown, Harvey Robson asked Mary directly, “. . . On that day, at any time on that day, did you take hold of Martin in any way to hurt him?”
“No, sir,” she said firmly.
“Were you in the house No. 85 at all, while Martin was alive?”
“No, sir.”
“Now, do you remember some time later on saying something about Martin being hurt?”
“Er . . .” she hesitated for a moment, but not for long, “yes, sir.”
“To whom did you say that?”
“Irene F. and Pat Howe, sir.”
“How long after Martin was found was that?”
“I cannot be certain, sir.”
“Was it a matter of just a few days or two or three weeks or something of that kind?”
“I cannot remember, sir.”
“Now what did you say that time?”
“I knew something that would get Norma put straight away.”
“Yes, did you say what you knew?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you say?”
“That she killed Martin.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because I had been having an argument with her that day, sir, and after that I went and apologized to her mam for saying it.”
“I want to go back a little, I think. It is back to after Martin had been found but before his funeral. Did you go to his house and speak to his mother?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did you say to her?”
“I asked if I could see Martin.”
“Yes?”
“Me and Norma were daring each other . . .”
“. . . You were daring each other,” he repeated. “What did you want to see Martin for?”
“I don’t know sir, because—er—we were daring each other and one of us did not want to be a chicken or something . . .”
The next day, toward the end of her examination, Mary gave prosecuting counsel the reasons for some of her actions and statements.
“I want you to look at the drawing you did,” Mr. Lyons said. “Exhibit 51. You have drawn a little boy there, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Almost always meticulously polite on the witness stand, Mary’s leaving out the “sir” in a reply to a direct question was a clear indication of fatigue or anger. She was very often angry with prosecuting counsel.
“That boy is supposed to be Martin George Brown?”
; “Yes.”
“Is he supposed to be lying on the ground in this drawing?”
“Yes.”
“And what is that behind him, is that the window?”
“Er—yes.”
“How did you know he had been found lying near the window?”
“Rumors,” she said laconically.
“Rumors?”
“Isabelle O’Connor and all them were saying that he fell through the attic and he died, like this way, that way, and the other way and . . .”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. F. encourages us to write things.”
“Did you say all the little girls were discussing exactly where he had been in the room where he was found?”
“No, people were saying different things.”
“You have put him near to one end of the window, is that right?”
“Well, Isabelle was talking about that, so was I. Nearly all our table was talking, and, anyway, I saw him in the workman’s arms.”
“You saw him in the workman’s arms?”
“Yes.”
“But you have drawn him on the ground near a window?”
“Yes.”
“Was it because you had seen him lying just like that?”
“No. It is because everyone was putting things in. Isabelle was saying things and that was the way—just put things down.”
“Now then, near his right hand, you have put something and you have written ‘tablet’ near it?”
“Yes.”
“Is this right—you drew a tablet on the ground near his right hand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes. Why did you do that?”
“Well, it was rumors again.”
“What rumors?”
“Well, people were saying—well, look, John Southern or somebody Long, went along—was up and they might have told Isabelle O’Connor. They might have told them what had happened or anything and Isabelle sits next at our table. It is just rumors, that is all.”
“What was the rumor?”
“Just that some people says he had fell through the roof, come through the stairs or something and some people were saying he was found by the window and people found him.”
“Why draw tablets?”
“Well, it was rumors.”
