by Rashad Salim
“This is a mistake!”
“Why did you run?” I asked, still sitting on him.
“I haven’t done anythin’!”
“What are you doin’ here, George?” I asked him. “Extra-curricular activities, eh?”
He grunted but didn’t answer my questions. I wondered where Richardson had gotten to and wondered what he’d say when he saw who I had caught.
“Who are you here to see?” I asked.
When he didn’t answer I grew angrier.
Time was imperative. My partner was missing, as was the boy who led us here and there was a dangerous criminal on the loose here. I had been growing more anxious by the second since I got here.
I took out a tiny CS spray canister, which I had been carrying since transferring to Binford, and aimed it partially at his face.
“You know what this is?”
His eyes widened at the sight of the canister and he struggled under my weight, moving his head back and forth to avoid being sprayed.
“Three seconds to tell me who you’re here for.”
“Paul Jones!” he said, repeating the name over and over. “Don’t spray me! Please...”
I felt him soften up and go limp.
“Is he the driver of that white van?” I asked.
“Yes,”
“Hey!” I heard someone call out.
I looked up and saw Asim Patel forty feet away with a sharp weapon in his hand.
I waved him over and he ran towards me.
When he reached me he was breathless. He met my gaze and dropped the weapon to the ground. He put his hands on his knees and doubled over, breathing hard.
“What the hell is goin’ on here?” I asked him. “This is your teacher right?”
Asim looked up, still bowing with his hands on his knees and nodded. He tried to talk but made little sense.
“Take your time,” I said and gave him a moment to catch his breath. “Have you seen DI Richardson?”
He looked at me and shook his head. I took that to mean no.
“I need to find him,” I said.
Only then did I notice the sharp weapon Asim had been holding was covered in blood.
“...Whose blood is that?”
He put his hands on his hips and stared at me, still breathing hard. “It’s DI Richardson’s. He’s dead.”
I looked at him in confusion. “What?” I thought I had heard him wrong.
“DI Richardson is dead.” Asim looked distressed.
I frowned. “You killed him?” It still didn’t make any sense.
He shook his head. “The white van man killed him.” He pointed at the weapon. “That’s his.”
I swallowed hard. The danger I had been feeling since Richardson and I had arrived at the premises suddenly rose to a whole new level. I shot a look in every direction, expecting Paul Jones to have snuck up on us ready to kill again.
“Where is he now?”
“He’s dead too,” Asim said.
I shot him a look. “What?”
“He’s dead... I killed him,” he said, almost apologetically. “I had to.”
I thought I was going to be sick. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had been waiting around the premises with no sign of life for ages and here Asim had told me two people – one of them being my colleague – had been killed during that time.
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
He nodded.
“What about DI Richardson?”
“I checked,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. There was nothin’ I could do.”
The situation had become a major crime scene and I wondered frantically how to deal with it.
I knew I had to report what had just happened and call for help but the radio was in the car and Richardson had the car keys.
I had to get to Richardson, not just for the keys but to verify Asim’s claims.
I leaned close to Mitchell. “Don’t try to escape. If you try anything, I’m gonna spray the whole can on your face, got it?”
He nodded.
I pulled him to his feet and held him tight with both arms.
“Come on,” I said to Asim and marched Mitchell towards a chain link fence. I pushed him up against it and uncuffed one of his wrists so I could cuff him to the fence. When that was done I told Asim to lead me to Richardson.
“He has the keys,” Asim said, pointing at Mitchell. “We need them.”
I looked at him in confusion but didn’t waste any time with questions. We had lost too much time as it was.
Asim pulled out a set of keys from one of Mitchell’s pockets and joined me.
We left Mitchell tied to the fence and ran around the building towards the loading bay. When we turned the corner I saw Richardson and Paul Jones. Both were on the ground close to each other near the building’s entrance.
I ran to Richardson and saw he had bled severely from wounds to the chest and stomach. I crouched and checked for his pulse. When I didn’t find one, I felt a chill run down my back.
As shaken as I was, I had to gather myself and stay focused.
I got up and moved toward Paul Jones. He had no pulse either.
“What the hell happened here?” I asked Asim.
He looked at me almost in tears. For the first time it seemed the trauma of the situation had overwhelmed him.
“It’s alright, son,” I told him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now.”
I thought he was about to cry but he quickly regained his composure. “This man stabbed DI Richardson so I stabbed him... I had to... He would’ve killed me too.”
I looked at the position of the corpses again and tried to imagine how it happened. I remembered the car keys then. I dug into Richardson’s pockets and found them.
“Come on,” I said. “We need to call for help now.” I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to lead him back to the car but he pulled away.
“Wait!”
“What is it? We have to go right now.”
“I think Max is here,” he said and pulled out the keys he took from Mitchell. “I’m not goin’ anywhere until we find him.”
I looked at him in frustration.
“We really need to call the police, do you realise that?” I scanned our surroundings. “There might be more of them and they might be back any second. We need to get the hell out of here!”
He gave me a defiant look, turned his back to me and headed towards a door in the warehouse.
I chased after him. “What are you doin’?” I asked, falling in step with him.
“I overheard them talkin’ about keepin’ this door locked.”
When we reached the door I put my hand on his shoulder. “Stop, Asim.”
He looked at me with a desperate expression.
“You stay here,” I said. “I’ll go in. We don’t know what’s on the other side. It might not be safe.”
He looked like he was about to argue but then stopped himself. “Okay.”
I took the set of keys from him and tried the different keys until one of them fit and turned. I opened the door wide.
Inside was a cellar-like storage room. It was dark but I could see a flight of steps.
I fumbled around looking for a light switch but there wasn’t one.
If only I had a torch, I thought, but there was no time to waste looking for one.
“Sssh,” Asim said.
I turned to him.
“Can you hear that?” he asked.
I tried to remain as still as possible and listened carefully.
There was a sound coming from down the steps.
“Stay here.” I turned towards the steps and thought about the possible grisly discovery down there.
I turned back to Asim. The look on his face was heartbreaking but I had to be blunt.
“Listen, Asim. I need you to be brave, okay?”
The boy’s legs were shaking.
“I can’t leave you alone. I’m going down there but
if I do find what I think is there you need to be prepared. Do you understand?”
“...If he’s dead, I want the truth. I have to know.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so I turned back to the steps.
“Whatever you do, don’t follow me,” I said and entered the dark.
68
Asim
When DC Cole walked down the steps of the storage room I was still scared there might be another gang members lurking around the premises, about to return any moment but we couldn’t leave yet.
I stood at the doorway and watched Cole walk down into the darkness with severe dread. I didn’t want to be left alone but I had to think of Max.
Cole had hinted at the possibility that Max might be dead. I knew that was a very real possibility but there was a chance he might be alive. I had heard a sound coming from the darkness down there.
I held my breath and tried to listen for any movement again but all I could hear was Cole fumbling around. He had been down there for a less than half a minute but it felt like ages to me. I wanted to ask him what he had found but didn’t dare make a sound.
Then a light came on down there. He must’ve found the light switch, I thought.
“What do you see?”
He didn’t reply which made me tense. Why not just say something?
I started dreading his return and telling me of his findings.
I took a few steps closer, passed the doorway and entered the storage room. I looked down but the staircase turned at the bottom and the storage space was out of sight.
I took a few more steps. “DC Cole?”
“I thought I told you to stay back up there!”
He voice rattled me and I staggered back to the doorway.
Had he found Max? If so, in what condition?
“Keep a look out,” he said.
There was still no sign of anyone.
I heard his footsteps again. I was about to enter the doorway again when he shouted, “Stay there! Don’t move!” There was fear in his voice that spoke volumes.
My heart pounded as his steps grew louder.
Okay, I thought. Here he comes with the horrific news. The worst case scenario has happened and my best friend’s corpse is down there.
He appeared at the doorway holding onto someone to keep them upright. When he emerged from the doorway I nearly collapsed to my knees.
DC Cole was holding Max.
I rushed forward but DC Cole shooed me away. “Give him space,” he said.
Max was covered in dirt. He wore a vest and trousers. Nothing else. He had no socks or shoes. He didn’t appear to be wounded. He kept his eyes to the ground, avoiding eye contact with either me or DC Cole.
“Max?”
He wouldn’t meet my gaze or acknowledge me in any way, which scared me.
“Are you ok, bro?”
“Come on,” DC Cole said. “We need to get out of here right now.”
He kept Max upright and the three of us made our way to DC Cole’s car.
I saw Mr Mitchell handcuffed to the metal fence. He saw us coming and bowed his head to avoid our gaze.
DC Cole sat Max down on a low wall near the car. “Stay here with him. I need to call for help.” He went to the car and used the radio to alert other cops.
I looked at Max. He still hadn’t said a word and wouldn’t even look at me.
“Max?” I whispered.
He didn’t react.
“Your safe now, bruv,” I said. “You’ll be home in no time.”
I reached out with my arm to put it around his shoulder but when I touched him he flinched and backed away.
I felt my eyes well up with tears. I had managed to be strong despite the horrors of what I’d gone through but when Max reacted like that it broke my heart.
I had seen a man killed and had killed a man myself at the industrial site but whatever horror I experienced it was nothing compared to what Max must have gone through.
I turned away from Max and waited for DC Cole.
He finished making the call over the radio and came over to us and gave us a reassuring nod.
None of us spoke for a long time. I could hear police sirens in the distance.
“...Is he going to be okay?” I asked DC Cole.
The sirens grew louder and I could now see a convoy of police cars, police vans and ambulances approaching us.
“Only time will tell,” DC Cole said and walked off towards the vehicles.
I sat beside Max in silence. I prayed he’d recover from whatever had happened to him but even then I knew that no matter what happened afterwards he would never be the same again. And neither would our friendship.
Epilogue
Cole
Having told my side of the story – of what the Binford police department endured through the summer of 1991 – I hope the public will understand what a harrowing time it was for Binford and the horror faced by the town’s boys.
We would’ve caught Paul Jones and George Mitchell eventually. But I admit not soon enough. We were onto them but we didn’t realise it.
When DI Rahman checked with the three missing boys’ families about whether they had their carpets changed recently in the hope that it would tie Neil Roberts’ drinking partner to the boys, DI Richardson and I thought Rahman had come up with nothing when none of the families had confirmed our suspicions.
Neil Roberts had claimed his drinking partner had said he was a carpet fitter.
That was a lie uttered by the drinking partner who transpired to be Paul Jones after all.
Rishi Malhotra’s parents had stated they had an extension built in their back garden but neither DI Richardson nor anyone else on the team picked up on it because neither Maqsood or Ravinder Singh’s families had any DIY done recently.
After George Mitchell’s arrest and Paul Jones’ death, Rishi Malhotra’s family confirmed the builder who had done the work on their home was indeed Jones.
We hadn’t missed Jones because we were looking for a carpet fitter – we had missed him because a stranger entering the family’s homes was not a factor in any of the other boys’ cases.
After George Mitchell was extensively interrogated he filled in the blanks for us. He claimed Paul Jones had confided in him about his lust for Asian boys and told him about Rishi Malhotra, a boy who lived in a home he had worked on. Jones then pestered Mitchell about the boys at the school where the PE teacher taught.
Both Mitchell and Jones shared the same lust and eventually, Jones convinced Mitchell to act on their mutual fantasies about the boys.
It was Mitchell who informed Jones of Ravinder Singh and Maqsood Abdullah.
Jones and Mitchell abducted Rishi Malhotra first – something Mitchell always insisted was completely Jones’ idea. Mitchell claimed Jones killed Rishi and dumped his corpse. When the corpse was discovered, Mitchell panicked and the duo argued.
Mitchell insisted their plans had gone out of control because the body was discovered and that they should put an end to their evil activities but Jones disagreed strongly. He wanted more and believed Mitchell had a supply of Asian boys at the ready. Jones coerced Mitchell into assisting him in the abduction of Ravinder Singh and when Ravinder’s corpse was discovered, Mitchell told his interrogators that he considered confessing his involvement in the crimes.
This, they felt, was also a lie. They believed Mitchell had no intention of surrendering himself to the authorities and that these claims were displays of false shame and remorse.
Mitchell wanted to cut ties with Jones but did not do so out of fear. He did not want to cross Jones and never confided his thoughts of alerting the police about Jones. ‘I was living in fear for my life’, were Mitchell’s exact words.
Once the murdered corpses of two Asian boys had been discovered, Mitchell wanted to switch schools. He wanted to leave his job at Binford School out of guilt. He said he even thought about leaving the teaching profession and moving far away from Binford. The only reason he d
idn’t was because Jones had convinced him they had an escape plan – something that would never bring suspicion onto them.
Jones hatched a plot to frame someone else for the murders and trick the authorities into thinking the criminal responsible had been discovered.
Their stooge was Lawrence Wilson, the convicted child sex offender, who was already a suspect in the investigations – a fact that had somehow become common knowledge in the local area.
Mitchell claimed Jones was an expert locksmith, as well as an experienced construction worker. Jones entered Wilson’s home while Wilson was out and planted child pornography and other evidence tying Wilson to the murdered boys.
What neither Jones nor Mitchell had predicted was that the town’s residents and the media, as well as DI Richardson, would have done the rest – applied overwhelming pressure and blame on Lawrence Wilson that led him to commit suicide in an effort to escape the emotional torment.
We fell for Jones and Mitchell’s trick and many considered the murder investigations of Rishi and Ravinder to be solved. But we still had a missing person out there, Maqsood Abdullah, and had no idea whether he was dead or alive.
It was DI Richardson’s continual insinuations about Asim Patel that led us to Jones and Mitchell’s hideout – the industrial site on the edge of Binford where they abused and murdered their victims.
Had it not been for DI Richardson’s suspicions about Asim Patel’s potential involvement in the disappearances of the boy’s best friend Maqsood and bitter enemy Ravinder, we wouldn’t have followed him around and would never have stumbled upon Paul Jones’ suspicious presence at the football field.
Asim led us to Jones and they both led us to the industrial site.
Despite the stressful working relationship I had with DI Richardson I credit his tireless pursuit for answers that resulted in the rescue of a missing boy that had been sexually abused for days and who was destined to meet the same fate as Jones and Mitchell’s previous victims.
Of course, it wasn’t just DI Richardson and the other members of Binford’s police force who had contributed to the success of the investigations.
