If one regards Harold’s death with suspicion, a possible scenario presents itself – in which Harold and Edith are given poison by their mother on the journey back from Blackpool, probably in a drink. As a result, by the time they arrive at Albion Street they are showing signs of sickness. Said Ann Sanderson in a sworn testimony: ‘I didn’t see ’em vomit, but they told me they did before they got home.’ If they had been given the poison too early they would not have been able to travel, and it is essential that Mrs Berry gets them back to Miles Platting.
Once there, Dr Shaw is sent for, and on arrival finds Harold very sick but Edith less so. (Ann Sanderson: ‘She was sick but soon got better.’) Questioning Mrs Berry as to the likely cause of the children’s illness, the doctor is told that they were taken ill while on holiday. If, as is very likely, she says that the children were attended by a doctor in Blackpool, Dr Shaw would have no way of verifying her claim. The children, being only eight and seven years of age, would not, of course, be likely to contribute any information to the doctor. He, then, has no option but to accept the story and, faced with an apparently distraught mother, takes her at her word. It must be borne in mind of course that Mrs Berry was an experienced nurse – which fact the doctor would have appreciated. Further, as a nurse in a workhouse she had seen the deaths of many children, so was well versed in what information was required for the completion of a death certificate.
Did Elizabeth Berry intend to kill only Harold, or did she hope to kill both of her children? I have no doubt that she knew exactly what she was doing, and that she set out to destroy only the boy – which outcome would well suit the scenario that she had in mind.
It is a most interesting fact also that when it came to the moment of the boy’s death his mother was nowhere to be seen. When little Harold died it was his aunt Ann Sanderson who sent for the doctor, who came to the house and pronounced him dead. Whether the doctor ever inquired as to the whereabouts of the boy’s mother at such a crucial time we shall never know. And just as it was she, Ann Sanderson, who had stayed at Harold’s side, so it is her mark, a cross in lieu of a signature, that appears on his death certificate, signifying that she was a witness at the moment of his death.
Just as Elizabeth Berry left Harold’s side before he died, so she had done in the case of baby Elizabeth Jane. She would do so again in the case of Edith. And surely it must be observed that no normal mother would ever have dreamt of doing such a thing. To be faced with the imminent death of a most precious child, a mother’s heart would keep her there, close at her child’s side. This was not the case with Elizabeth Berry. When it came to Edith’s last hours, her mother actually lay on the bed at her side and slept. Then, when the child was even closer to death, she chose to leave her, and go to sleep in her sitting room.
I do not think there can be any doubt that Elizabeth Berry was rightly convicted of the murder of her daughter Edith, and that she was also guilty of the murder of her mother. Where the deaths of her husband, son and baby daughter were concerned, it seems very likely that in each case the attending doctor had the wool pulled over his eyes. Certainly in the view of this writer, Mrs Berry got away with murder. All three, the baby Elizabeth Jane, husband Thomas, and finally her son Harold, suffered extreme diarrhoea in the days leading to their deaths, which phenomenon was in each case noted by the certifying doctor as a contributory cause of death – and which is also a symptom of arsenical poisoning. It is my belief that they died from being poisoned – almost certainly with arsenic. I believe also that the ease with which Elizabeth Jane was dispatched contributed to the deaths of those who came after.
Assuming that arsenic was employed in the first three murders, one might wonder why Mrs Finley was despatched with atropia. A likely answer is that Mrs Berry had become wary of using arsenic again, for the simple reason that it had become an increasingly used and easily detected poison, and she feared that it might lead to her discovery. As an experienced nurse, her knowledge had widened, and perhaps she thought that atropia, a far more rarely used agent, would be less likely to be suspected or so easily diagnosed. Therefore a change was due.
When it came to the murder of Edith, there was a further change in Mrs Berry’s modus operandi. At the trial the judge spoke of Edith being poisoned on the Saturday morning and again on the Sunday afternoon, and raised the question as to whether the same poison had been administered on both occasions. It is a good question. The first poison, administered shortly after nine forty-five on Saturday morning, led to stomach pains and vomiting, the vomited matter containing blood. But it was not until the following afternoon that the bloody purging began and blisters were seen about the child’s mouth. Judging by the difference in the child’s symptoms, I think we must accept that there was a second poison given, and that it was the corrosive poison, sulphuric or oxalic acid, as claimed by the doctors. And the reason for switching to a different poison? Mrs Berry’s perception that the first administered was not having the required effect. On being told on the Sunday that Edith looked likely to recover, Mrs Berry discarded the first poison and switched to the corrosive poison – and this, as she determined, proved deadly.
There is a matter of interest also with regard to the towels which Mrs Berry gave to the doctors. She gave one to Dr Patterson which, he said, had blood on it and gave off an acidic smell. Then, when Dr Robertson called on the Monday night and asked Mrs Berry if she had kept the evacuations from the girl’s bowels, she replied that she had not, and gave him a towel with much ‘tenacious matter’ on it (‘I have never seen mucus like that,’ he said). We are told that both towels were analysed for poison but that nothing of a suspicious nature was found. The question arises, then, as to whether all the blood and mucus came from Edith Annie. Elizabeth Berry was a cunning and clever woman, and was well enough read to have known that material excreted by a suspected victim of poison was almost certain to be analysed in an effort to determine whether poison had been administered. Although the faecal matter excreted by Edith had been washed away, and so was not available to the doctors, Mrs Berry was more than ready to offer up towels which, she said, were soiled with Edith’s vomit. How was it, then, that analysis of the towels revealed no controversial matter? I believe that the answer is not difficult to find. As head nurse in the infirmary, Mrs Berry had under her care dozens of sick inmates, several of whom could have provided quantities of bloody mucus, which matter could have been used to adulterate the towels in Edith’s sickroom.
Mrs Berry’s reasons for carrying out the killings have been touched on beforehand in this book. There can be no doubt that her all-consuming motive was her determination to move on and to elevate her social position, and to this end her husband and children were obstacles. It is true that she collected varying amounts of insurance pay-outs with their deaths – and she was glad of them – but what is more significant is the fact that, once she was earning, so much of her salary went on the upkeep and schooling of Harold and Edith. I do believe that this was a factor in their murders. With so much of her wages taken up with the children’s care she had very little to spend on herself – and she was a woman who was fond of fine clothes and jewellery, items which she would have considered assets in her search for a wealthy husband.
And how did she decide to turn to murder in the first place?
The murder of Elizabeth Jane is perhaps telling. Elizabeth did not want the child and she soon took steps to dispose of it. This was not the end of the matter, though. With the arrival of the baby, her third, she had seen the writing on the wall. She and Thomas were a fertile couple, and with no reliable means of birth control she could see before her a succession of births – and with this a consequent descent into poverty. This was not to be contemplated, so she took steps. With the new baby successfully disposed of, and no questions asked, she then turned her attention to her husband. And so Thomas was made ill, in very small doses at first, ensuring that he would never again be in a condition to claim his marital rights. There would be no
more children. Not only that, but she was soon to decide that she would be better off with him out of the way altogether.
As for her mother, as noted previously, Elizabeth Berry held her in no affection. Added to this, there were the insurance policies out on her life, and Elizabeth was in need of money. Further, by the time she set out to kill her mother she was practised in the art, and knew that she could do it.
It appears to be a not-uncommon phenomenon in the careers of serial poisoners that they develop a taste for it. This becomes evident in the most casual study of our criminal history, which is littered with such cases. And it would appear that the serial poisoners had one thing in common, a particular quality that enabled them to go about their deadly work untouched by conscience, or any sense of compassion for their victims. They were invariably possessed of an ice-cold detachment that allowed them to administer the cruellest of poisons even to their nearest and dearest, those trusting and loving individuals who should have been the most beloved and protected.
Observing this, it is hard to avoid the idea that a certain amount of pleasure and satisfaction must have played a part as Mrs Berry administered the poisons and carefully monitored the effects. The need for power is a very positive quality in some personalities, and there have been numerous serial killers in which this quality appears to have been evident. From earlier days names such as Mary Ann Cotton and William Palmer come to mind, and from more recent times those of Dr Harold Shipman and hospital nurses Beverley Allitt and, this very year, Victorino Chua.
I am convinced that this was the case with Elizabeth Berry as she demonstrated the most cruel callousness when poisoning her family, on each occasion coolly observing how the deadly poisons took effect. In the case of her mother she calmly examined her eyes to see whether the pupils were dilating, checking that the atropia was doing its work. The same happened with little Edith. Her mother watched her suffer the most intense agony, and through it all addressed her as ‘my darling,’ and feigned the deepest affection. Clearly, once Elizabeth Berry had set out on her task, no amount of the suffering that she witnessed could stop her. She had come to find a certain pleasure in the execution of her power, and in doing so was blind to everything but her own wants.
It is perhaps no wonder, then, that on being formally arrested for the murder of her child she screamed and fainted away on the police court floor. So single-minded and self-confident had she become in her murderous projects that, blinkered to all but her own desires, the possibility of being found out had never realistically occurred to her. When it came, then, the discovery of her guilt, it was something for which she was totally unprepared.
22
‘How Great the Fall’
In more modern times, when a murderer was condemned to die, it might follow that several weeks would elapse before the penalty was carried out. Appeals launched against the sentence had to be constructed, heard and considered. It all took time. But back in Georgian and Victorian days there was little in the way of legal procedure to delay the final act. Once the death sentence had been passed there was usually only a short time left to the condemned felon between the conviction and the scaffold.
This was the situation for Elizabeth Berry at the time of her conviction. On Thursday 3 March, a week after the trial’s end, she was informed that she was to hang on the 14th. Her wretchedness was deepened further when the chaplain came and told her that he could see no hope of a reprieve.
According to the female warder who spent much time with the prisoner, Elizabeth Berry slept badly following the devastating news. She, Miss Clarke, wrote to the governor:
The prisoner, Elizabeth Berry, passed a restless night. Shortly after six o’clock the following morning while I was reading a portion of Scripture to her she asked me to stop, saying she preferred talking to me – with apparent anguish of mind she said, ‘Oh, Miss Clarke, you do not know my mind, I cannot bear the burden of it. I have suffered awful trepidations during the night.’
She commented upon the Clergyman who had visited her the day previously having told her that he did not think there was any hope of her life being spared (here she wept) then further said, ‘As I have been lying here I have been thinking that perhaps after all I might be guilty. I had suffered so much with my head, I cannot account for many things that have happened.’
Over Mrs Berry’s first days in the condemned cell she had said she wished to see no one, but as the precious days passed she was glad to have visitors, among them her sister- and brother-in-law, Ann and John Sanderson. It was stated by the Chronicle that Mrs Berry wrote urging them ‘to visit her in her deep affliction’, and that they went to the gaol wherein ‘a most sorrowful interview took place’. The Manchester Evening News, however, stated that Mrs Sanderson was received ‘in anything but a kindly spirit’. If this was so, perhaps it was due to the fact that Mrs Sanderson’s testimony at the trial had been so telling. Perhaps Mrs Berry had been hoping for support from her sister-in-law, but had perceived that support to be in short supply.
Another request for a visit went to Mrs Berry’s aunt, Sarah Pemberton. While Mrs Berry had been before the magistrates in Oldham, Mrs Pemberton had travelled from Burslem to see her, only to have her niece refuse a meeting. Later, when Mrs Pemberton was in Castleton for the inquest into her sister’s death, she received a telegram from Mrs Berry asking her to come and see her. Mrs Pemberton, however, was so distressed by the inquest proceedings that she could not face seeing her niece, and no further meeting between them ever occurred.
Through all the hours spent in her cell at Walton on the Hill, Mrs Berry did not, of course, give up hope of escaping the extreme penalty, and she prayed that the Home Secretary would look benevolently on the petition that was being drawn up by her solicitor, Joseph Whitaker.
As for Mr Whitaker himself, he had an additional, very pressing matter on his mind.
On learning of what had earlier passed at the meeting at the gaol between Mrs Berry and his clerk, he was much dismayed. Notwithstanding that Mrs Berry had given written authorization for him, Whitaker, to take possession of her effects, here she was giving quite different instructions for the disposal of her goods – and she had still not fully reimbursed him for all the costs he had incurred, and was still incurring, on her behalf.
Learning of this very disagreeable state of affairs, it is highly likely that Mr Whitaker instructed his clerk to make no move in the matter. Following, he wrote to the Guardians of the Oldham workhouse, pointing out that under the law a condemned person’s goods were no longer forfeit to the Crown, and that, as the prisoner owed him money, her goods held at the workhouse should be given to him to dispose of. In support of his request, he had Mrs Berry’s written authorization.
Walton Gaol, c. 1900.
The Clerk to the Guardians replied that they would make inquiries as to the intentions and desires of the prisoner, and that a senior member of the board would be writing to Mrs Berry to solicit her wishes on the matter. This they did, and consequently wrote to Mr Whitaker with the disappointing and surprising news that Mrs Berry refused his request.
The matter could not rest there, of course, and Mr Whitaker then wrote to the Oldham magistrates, asking to be appointed curator of Mrs Berry’s worldly goods, arguing that they, the magistrates, had the power under the Act of Parliament to appoint him. He pointed out that Mrs Berry was a debtor to him in respect of all the work he had done, and in order to reimburse him for money out of pocket she should leave her belongings to him.
On receiving his letter, the magistrates were uncertain as to what to do, and extricated themselves from the quandary by advising Mr Whitaker to make his application to the Home Office. Which he did. Addressing his letter to the Right Honourable Charles Matthews, M.P., Secretary of State, he wrote from his home at 1 St Peter Street, Oldham on 3 March:
Sir,
Regina v Berry
This prisoner Elizabeth Berry who is now in Walton Gaol under sentence of death for poisoning her daughter w
as represented by myself as her solicitor three days on the Inquest and two days before the magistrates. I instructed Counsel at her request, and when the prisoner was committed to the Assizes the case occupied four days. Two Counsel were engaged, and my costs of course were very large. The prisoner had little money, and I am now a considerable sum out of pocket. The prisoner gave me an authority (a copy of which I enclose) to the Governor of the Oldham Workhouse to hand to me certain articles which he had possession of and belonging to her. He however refuses at present to part with them.
I have this morning made an application to the Magistrates of the Borough of Oldham and they said I had better apply to you and that you would no doubt appoint me administrator. The prisoner has no near relatives, [except] her aunt who is the only one with whom the prisoner is at all intimate and who has handed me her consent to my being appointed an administrator of her effects. I therefore humbly apply to your Lordship to appoint me as such administrator.
I shall be glad to hear from you early, by return if possible, as the estate may be squandered, no one being legally responsible for it.
I am,
Your obedient Servant
Joseph Whitaker.
Prisoner’s Solicitor
And, no doubt impatiently, Mr Whitaker then waited.
While Mr Whitaker was pursuing his own interests in the business, the press continued to concern itself with the prisoner’s situation as she passed her final days in the condemned cell. The Manchester Evening News spoke of her turning increasingly for comfort to her religious faith, saying, ‘As an adherent of the Church of England, she is regularly seen by the gaol chaplain, to whose ministrations she seems to pay great attention, while fully realizing her fearful position.’ They also reported on some of the visitors Mrs Berry received, among whom were two officers from the Oldham workhouse, Mr Fletcher and Mr Minahan. Having received a request from her to go and see her, the two men set off on Saturday 5 March for Walton Gaol, arriving there shortly after noon. There they were met by the prison matron, who informed them that they would be taken to see the prisoner in her cell, where a male and female warden would be present at all times. Further, they would be permitted to shake hands with the prisoner only after they had shown that their hands were empty, and on no account must they impart any information concerning any goings-on in the outside world that had occurred since the beginning of her incarceration.
There Must Be Evil Page 21
