Dorset Murders

by Sly, Nicola;

  Villager Stephen Hawker had met Fooks shortly before the shooting and testified that Fooks had complained to him that he ‘barely knew what he was about’ and was struggling to control his temper. Both of Fooks’s nieces spoke of the ‘fits of passion’ that Fooks flew into if anyone upset him and, at such times, he would wildly threaten to shoot anyone and everyone.

  On the evidence of those who had known Fooks for many years, it certainly appeared as if a diagnosis of insanity would be an appropriate one. However, doctors who had seen him in prison since the murder seemed to disagree among themselves as to the extent of Fook’s insanity.

  Dr Harrington-Tuke, who saw Fooks in prison, had introduced himself to the accused as a ‘mind doctor’ but stated that Fooks had not been particularly interested in him, paying more attention to the prison doctor who was in the room at the time. Fooks had received Harrington-Tuke as if he had just arrived for a pleasant morning visit. The doctor had said that Fooks looked well, to which he replied that he was far from well, having pains in his head and stomach.

  The murder was freely discussed, with Fooks commenting to the doctor that he would never have believed he could have hurt anybody. Asked if Stone had ever done anything to hurt him, he had hesitated before replying, ‘No, not exactly.’ He then went on to elaborate that his main grievance with Stone was that the man was always mocking him and scoffing at him and that he had spread reports intended to take away Fooks’s character.

  Asked by the doctor to name a specific incident, Fooks again struggled to recall one. Eventually, he remembered an occasion when an acre of his fields had been planted with docks, something he suspected Stone of having done. Asked if this was the reason why he had shot Stone, Fooks said that it wasn’t and again stated that the reason for the shooting was that Stone was taking away his character.

  ‘Were you insane at the time?’ asked the doctor.

  ‘Oh no, no sir, I’m not mad’, replied Fooks, although he admitted to feeling ‘in a daze’ just before he had fired the fatal shot.

  It was Harrington-Tuke’s opinion that Fooks was of unsound mind and that he possessed homicidal and suicidal tendencies that could surface at any time, but especially if he were under stress. The effects of these tendencies were to negate any self-control in the prisoner, thus making him not responsible for his actions.

  When it was pointed out to Harrington-Tuke in court that Fooks had had access to weapons for many years but had never before attempted to kill anyone, the doctor tried to explain himself in simpler terms, stating that he did not believe that Fooks had homicidal mania, but an ordinary mania with occasional homicidal tendencies. When he raised the gun to shoot Stone, he was well aware that the gun could – and probably would – kill him, but was incapable of resisting the urge to fire.

  Asked if he was, as a man of science, prepared to swear on oath that at the time Fooks raised the gun he didn’t know that what he was doing was wrong, Harrington-Tuke baulked at going quite that far. Telling the court that he had the greatest difficulty in answering that question, all he was prepared to say was that Fooks now knew that what he had done was wrong but at the time of the murder was acting on an uncontrollable impulse.

  The final witnesses to appear were Dr Good, the prison surgeon, and his deputy, Mr Kyme. Good testified that he had seen and spoken to Fooks almost every day of his incarceration. He had seen no indications whatsoever to make him suspect that Fooks was insane. He was not incoherent, was not suffering from delusions and appeared perfectly rational at all times.

  Mr Kyme gave exactly the same evidence, adding that the prisoner was always quiet and never appeared excited in any way. He was attended at all times by two warders, but only because he had attempted suicide before being admitted to prison. Since his imprisonment, he had shown neither homicidal nor suicidal tendencies.

  Both Good and Kyme stated in court that they had not expected the defence to be one of insanity and had therefore not made any particular study of the prisoner’s mind, nor sought any expert opinions, basing their testimony on common sense and previous practice rather than on reading. They were convinced that Fooks was completely sane, both now and at the time of the murder.

  Perhaps surprisingly, the jury chose to believe the two prison surgeons over all the other trial witnesses and returned a verdict of ‘Guilty’. Charles Fooks, aged forty-nine, was hanged at Dorchester on 27 March 1863.

  Today, with our advanced medical knowledge, it seems reasonable to suggest that Fooks may have been suffering from schizophrenia, since he appears to have displayed many of the characteristic symptoms including paranoia, delusions, depression, confusion, suicidal tendencies, poor concentration and mood swings. He was, as suggested by his defence counsel, just as much or more the object of pity as Stone and was entitled, at the hands of the jury, to ‘that protection which the law of England gave and was bound to give to persons whom it had pleased God to visit with the calamity of insanity’.

  [Note: The name Fooks is alternatively spelled Fookes in some contemporary accounts of the murder.]

  6

  ‘I DID THE ACT, BUT NOT INTENTIONALLY, SIR’

  Portland Convict Prison, 1863–1870

  Life had not been kind to Edwin Alfred Preedy. An illegitimate baby, he had moved to London from Warwickshire while still an infant with his mother, Ann, and his aunt, Mary Smith. At four years old he fell downstairs, crashing heavily from top to bottom and colliding head first with a heavy wooden stool. His concerned mother and aunt rushed to see if he was all right, finding him lying unconscious, with blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

  Edwin’s aunt wanted to call a doctor but his mother pointed out that doctors cost money and they had none. Little Edwin was carried gently back upstairs to his bed, where he was devotedly nursed back to health by his mother and aunt. He was ill for a long time and, even after he had recovered, was never the same cheerful little boy that he had been before the fall. He was nervous and edgy during the day, but his real problems started at nightfall, when he was terrified of being left alone in the dark.

  Such was his terror that his mother felt she had no option but to allow the little boy to sleep with her. This arrangement continued until Edwin’s mother met and married Bill Edwards. A printer by trade, Edwards was a steady man of good character, but he had one blind spot – Edwin. Edwards complained that Ann was making the boy soft and refused to allow her to comfort Edwin at night. Bill Edwards had his own way of dealing with his stepson’s problems and determined to beat the boy’s fears out of him, not just with spankings, but by thrashing him over and over again with a heavy cane topped with a metal knob.

  Edwin was humiliated at school, being teased cruelly by the other children about his ‘difference’. In the evenings all he had to look forward to were long, dark, terrifying nights and savage beatings. Bill Edwards was not afraid to vent his wrath on Edwin’s mother if she tried to intervene, so the poor woman felt she had no choice but to stand by and watch her son being brutalised. When Edwin’s aunt saw wounds on his head and threatened to have a word with ‘that brute’ Bill Edwards, the new Mrs Edwards was petrified and begged her not to interfere, saying that she would be beaten if anything were said.

  Edwin eventually reached the end of his tether at the age of thirteen and ran away from home. For a while he lived rough with a group of other homeless boys, until he was picked up one night and taken to St Giles Workhouse in the West End of London.

  When he arrived at the workhouse, Preedy fought desperately to escape, kicking, screaming, biting, foaming at the mouth and growling like an animal. The workhouse doctor diagnosed typhus fever and Edwin was nursed until he recovered. So wild was the boy that, for the most part of his stay, he was tied to his bed, only being released to eat and be washed.

  As he recovered, Edwin gradually calmed down until, by the time his physical illness was cured, he was transformed from a raging maniac to a pleasant and likeable boy. The workhouse had managed to establish his identi
ty and, once he was fully fit, released him back into the care of his mother and stepfather. Now too old for school, Edwin was given a job with Bill Edwards and began to learn the printer’s trade. However, now he was with the boy all day, Edwards grew ever more vicious and sadistic in his treatment of him. Edwin Preedy seemed to develop a dual personality – normally a charming and engaging young man, when beaten or abused he turned into a raging animal, behaving like a madman.

  He soon tired of Edwards’s cruelty towards him and ran away from home again, this time forsaking London altogether for the Warwickshire countryside of his birth. Part of his motive for heading to Warwickshire was a desire to find his real father, but, before he had much of a chance to start looking, he was arrested on a charge of larceny and served an eight-month prison sentence in Warwick Castle.

  On his release from prison, Preedy signed up for the Army, serving with the 85th Regiment of Foot. He was quickly promoted to Corporal and then promptly deserted. Turning to crime as the only real way to support himself, Preedy was soon arrested and sentenced to serve ten weeks in Carmarthen Prison. There it was discovered that he was a deserter and, understandably, the Army wanted him back so that they could punish him for his crime.

  When given this news by the prison governor, Preedy instantly erupted into a maelstrom of violence. ‘I’ll swing for you bastards rather than go back in the Army!’ he screamed. Wildly swinging his prison issue wooden clogs he began to belabour the warders who had escorted him to the governor’s office. He overturned the governor’s desk onto the legs of two warders he had knocked to the floor and, as more and more warders came rushing from other parts of the prison, he kept them at bay by clubbing them with chairs.

  A cell at Portland Prison.

  It took several officers to overpower him and, when the Army claimed him, the escorting officers had to keep him shackled hand and foot. He was subjected to a disciplinary hearing in Pembrokeshire, where he was dishonourably discharged and sent on his way. Soon afterwards he was arrested for stealing some clothes and given a three-year prison sentence, to be served at Haverfordwest.

  Finding Preedy too much of a handful, the Welsh authorities had him transferred to Milbank Prison in London, where he attacked and injured a warder in one of his rages, receiving a flogging as a result. Memories of his ill treatment at the hands of his stepfather came flooding back and, from that moment on, his behaviour became more and more crazed until it was decided that there was only one place for him – Portland Convict Prison, the toughest prison in England.

  On 8 September 1862, three prisoners – Thomas Moore, John Ashton and James Schofield – walked along the landing of Portland Prison. Under the supervision of warder Charles Evans, it was their job to collect from each prisoner the empty food tin that had contained his supper and the knife with which he had been issued in order to eat it. As they opened the door to Cell 727, Preedy was standing waiting to pass over his cutlery. As Moore approached him to take the utensils, at the very last minute Preedy dropped the tin and, still holding the knife, pushed past Moore onto the landing. Before any of the men could react, Preedy seized Warder Evans from behind and stabbed him in the throat, twisting the knife violently.

  Moore and Ashton each grabbed one of Preedy’s arms while Schofield set off to fetch help. As soon as he was released from Preedy’s grasp, Evans reflexively staggered a few steps before dropping to the floor, dead.

  Portland Convict Prison, late 1800s.

  Reinforcements arrived in the form of Warder Thomas Roberts, who quickly assessed the scene then drew his cutlass and hit Preedy over the head with the flat of the blade, rendering him unconscious. By the time Preedy came round again, he was safely shackled.

  Asked why he had stabbed Evans, Preedy maintained that there was something between the two men. Saying that he was glad that Evans was dead, Preedy explained that he had eaten his supper, read his Bible and then decided to kill Evans.

  Preedy received a visit from prison chaplain, Mr Duke, but that was enough to send him into another rage. As soon as Duke had left the cell, Preedy was once more calm and polite, explaining to Warder James Douglas that he was a Catholic.

  The task of moving Preedy to Dorchester Prison fell to Superintendent Underwood of the Dorset Police. Approaching the job with trepidation, Underwood was pleasantly surprised to find Preedy calm and compliant and expressing remorse for killing Warder Evans, having since been told that Evans was a married man with several children. Preedy confessed that there was nothing personal between him and his victim. People had been picking on him and he had simply made up his mind to kill the first warder that came along.

  Preedy’s apparent complacency lulled warders at Dorchester Prison into a false sense of security. Placed in solitary confinement, he ranted, raved and tried to injure himself, having to be kept naked as he immediately destroyed any clothing he was issued with. The prison governor, Mr J.V.D. Lawrence, knew that being kept in solitary confinement was what was upsetting Edwin, but did not dare move him in with other prisoners for fear of him killing someone.

  Edwin Preedy behaved like a madman for the first month of his stay in Dorchester, but eventually calmed down and became a model prisoner. He took to nursing injured birds back to health and was absolutely heartbroken when he accidentally stepped on one of his ‘patients’ and killed it.

  Preedy’s mild-mannered behaviour lasted until his trial at Dorchester Assizes before Judge Sergeant Shea. As the trial opened, Preedy was asked whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty, to which he responded, ‘I did the act, but not intentionally, sir’. When told he must either say ‘Guilty’ or ‘Not Guilty’, after apparently giving the matter some thought, he chose the latter.

  Before long, he violently objected to evidence given by Thomas Moore and tried to vault over the edge of the dock to get to him. As guards did their best to hold him, he rained blows on them. It took ten men to finally subdue him, then, with his arms pinioned by his sides, the court watched in astonishment as Preedy, in an attempt to choke himself, managed somehow to throw his own head back so far that he was able to bite a piece of the cloth from the back of his own jacket. When the guards restrained him even tighter, he then tried to bite pieces from the wooden edge of the dock.

  Mr Good, the prison surgeon, tried to calm him. By now Preedy was all smiles again, offering to shake hands with the surgeon. When Good declined, Preedy once more flew into a tantrum.

  Eventually the judge could take no more. After asking Good if he thought Preedy fit to stand trial and receiving an affirmative reply, he turned to Preedy and offered him a ten-minute break to compose himself. When Preedy didn’t respond, the clerk of the court, Mr Corne, repeated the question to him, prompting a rambling discussion from the prisoner about how and where he knew Corne. Saying that Corne was a man that he could trust and offering to shake hands with him, Preedy refused to acknowledge anybody in court but Corne, cursing and shouting if Mr Good tried to approach him.

  Reluctantly, Judge Shea informed the court that he was perfectly satisfied that Preedy was sane, but, for everyone’s safety, Preedy must be restrained before proceedings could continue. Two broad leather belts were fetched and used to strap Preedy’s legs together and to pin his arms to his sides. However, before Shea could pick up the trial where he had left off, Preedy tensed his muscles and both belts snapped with loud cracks. Warders just managed to grab him before he leapt from the dock.

  Shea stormed out of the court to consult with a colleague, Mr Justice Byles, returning some time later having given orders that Preedy was to be shackled in chains. This done, Preedy alternately fought against his bindings and slumped exhausted in the dock, appearing to sleep. The judge eventually adjourned the trial for a short period of consultation with Mr Good, local doctor Alfred Emson and the surgeon from Portland Prison, William Houghton. Finding himself seriously doubting Preedy’s sanity, Shea sought the opinions of the three medical men as to whether or not the prisoner was fit to stand trial. Having been
assured by all three doctors that he was, Shea resumed the trial.

  Among those giving evidence at the trial were Preedy’s mother, who testified to his fall downstairs, his strangeness in childhood and the terrible beatings he had received at the hands of his stepfather. At one point Ann Preedy fainted and, trying vainly to reach her, Preddy fell sideways off his chair in a crash of chains.

  By the time the jury had retired for about half an hour and returned with a verdict of ‘guilty of wilful murder’ against Preedy, the accused was once again docile and calm enough to hear the judge pronounce the death sentence upon him.

  In doing so the judge told Preedy that at least he would have time to make his peace with the Almighty God, a privilege that had been denied his victim and, after the trial, Edwin Preedy spent a lot of time in the company of the Revd H. Moule, the vicar of Fordington. Moule was not a priest, but it didn’t matter because Preedy was not a Catholic. When a kindly, well-meaning Catholic from Chideock tried to arrange a prison visit from a priest for him, Preedy sent him a message saying that he was not, had never been, and would never be a Catholic.

  Through Moule, Preedy made a full confession, adding that to be executed was a just punishment for a sinner such as he. He admitted to feigning madness at his trial in the hope of avoiding the death sentence. When asked why he hadn’t just punched Evans rather than stabbed him, Preedy pointed out that the last time he had tried punching someone he had been flogged.

  As the date of his execution approached, Preedy asked Moule to procure several small Bibles for him. He then inscribed each one personally and presented one to all the prison warders to whom he had been abusive. He also spent time making bead rings, one of which he was to give to executioner Calcraft as he mounted the scaffold.