Alan Topping told the court of his astonishment that the relationship between Howell and Stewart had continued after the deaths, and said that there had been questions in people’s minds about the deaths at the time: ‘Everyone did not believe it was a suicide.’ When his turn came, however, Jack Hutchinson, the detective who headed up the inquiry, insisted to the jury that no one raised any such suspicions with him. He chose his words with caution: ‘People felt bad about what had happened, but nobody made any categorical insinuations of criminal complicity.’ It was clearly a well-rehearsed answer.
Leslie Clyde, Trevor’s former police colleague, revealed that his devastated friend had told him that the church wanted the affair kept quiet. He recalled Trevor’s words: ‘In other words [the church was saying], “Let’s not tell the whole world, but try to get it sorted out in the church.” ’
John Hansford, the church pastor who counselled the two couples in a bid to save their marriages, had travelled with his wife Liz from their current home in Javea, Spain, to testify. No doubt his new role – ministering to a Baptist congregation of ex-pats on the Costa Blanca – is a far cry from the trials and tribulations of his days in Coleraine at the beginning of the 1990s. As he now took the stand to address the court, Hansford must have been struck by the dramatic change in the appearance and circumstances of Hazel, one of his former Sunday School teachers. He related how, just weeks before the murders, he had brought the two husbands together in his office; how an apparently penitent Howell had held out his hand in an act of reconciliation: ‘He offered his sincere apologies for what he had done and sought his [Trevor’s] forgiveness.’ Howell was, of course, being his usual deceitful self, but neither the pastor nor Trevor was to know this at the time.
Trevor McAuley was clearly nervous about having to go into the witness box. The man Hazel had turned to after walking away from Howell, and whom she had subsequently kept at arms’ length during a long and sometimes difficult relationship, was able to corroborate the bizarre details of Stewart’s claims to him that Howell sometimes sedated her before sex. When Neil Connor, Mr Murphy’s junior counsel, asked why Howell might have done such a thing, McAuley replied: ‘So he could enjoy sexual gratification with her without her feeling guilty about it, while he was able to have pleasure.’ The witness was not the only one in the courtroom to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he offered this explanation.
Lesley’s brother, Chris Clarke, a hospital anaesthetist in the north of England, talked of his surprise at the time when he learned his sister had had £212,000 in her will – money which, he claimed, was subsequently pocketed by Howell. Then it was the turn of the dentist’s old school friend, Marshall Reilly, who said that he too had been taken aback when, some months after Lesley’s death, Howell had repaid him the £10,000 he had borrowed from him: ‘He told me one of the consequences was the life insurance had come in and he was now able to pay me back.’
Graham Stirling and Willie Patterson, two of the three elders from The Barn Christian Fellowship who heard Howell’s astonishing confession, described the dramatic events of the day Howell handed himself over to the police. Patterson told Mr Justice Hart: ‘He was stressed to the point of being distressed. He was agitated, his eyes were staring. He was jumpy and nervous.’ Stirling commented: ‘I think there was an element of bravado about [Colin’s] endeavour to hoodwink the police …’
With more and more details of the terrible events of the night of 18 May 1991 emerging, as well as the bizarre and shocking revelations about the double life which both Howell and Stewart had been leading in the twenty years since, the opening three days of the trial were taxing and intense for all those in the courtroom, especially of course for the accused, her family and the families of the victims. But the drama was about to be ratcheted up to a whole new level. It was now the turn of the Crown’s star witness to take the stand.
20.
‘Waltzing together in time’ – The Hazel Stewart trial, Part Two
Colin Howell had waited almost two years for this moment, and the timing of his arrival in the witness box seemed to be just right. He slipped into the seat, put down his reading glasses, pushed aside a small plastic water tumbler and then adjusted the microphone, to make sure the jury and all those inside Court No. 2 could hear his every word.
It was St Valentine’s Day and, with his former lover and one-time confidante sitting just yards away, his entry on this day of all days could not have been more fittingly choreographed in the latest episode of the dark and disturbing tragedy in which he and she had the leading roles. Hazel Stewart might have caught a fleeting, sideways glimpse as he emerged from the cells and made his way to the witness box. The woman with whom he was once besotted and wanted to marry all those years ago dropped her head and looked away as he stepped out and brushed past the glass panel separating her from the rest of the courtroom which was already filled to capacity in anticipation of his appearance.
Was this really the same fit and healthy Howell who used to run and cycle the roads, who played indoor soccer and had a fiercely competitive streak? The one who always had to be first across the line or on the winning team? Even though he had busied himself as an orderly in the prison hospital and tried to keep himself in shape, his period of incarceration had obviously taken its toll. Dressed in the same grey suit, pale tie and striped shirt as on a number of previous courtroom appearances, he had not aged well.
Howell’s pulse rate must have quickened as he made his way to the front of the courtroom to take his place just below the judge’s bench. He had a determined look about him, clearly keen to tell his side of the story and, as far as he was concerned, set the record straight. Minutes earlier, Mr Justice Hart, bewigged and resplendent in his scarlet robes, entered the courtroom, bowed, pulled up his chair and checked with the various legal representatives that everything was in order. Just before he nodded to the official standing at the door of a side room to indicate he was ready to proceed, he took time to issue a word of warning to those assembled before him: ‘Let me make it clear to everyone in court that if there is any disturbance whatever, however minor, any exclamations, any comments, the public galleries will be cleared.’ Pausing for a moment to let the full impact of the words sink in, he finally gestured to the man standing over to his right: ‘Very well, have him brought in. Bring the jury in.’
Day four of Hazel Stewart’s trial was under way, and the star witness was in a place he could hardly have imagined. Here was a self-confessed double killer presenting himself before a jury and asking them to endorse a testimony which would come close to defying belief. Hazel Stewart, as they would hear later, had already damned herself by her own words – but could the panel of strangers sitting opposite accept anything that Howell would now say as true?
Those in charge at the Public Prosecution Service must have thought long and hard before accepting his offer to give evidence against his co-accused. Thoughts that he might secure a lesser sentence in return for his testimony had never been entertained by the authorities but, with him now prepared to reveal all, the case for the Crown against Hazel Stewart would be strengthened immeasurably. Yet there remained many important questions as to his integrity as a good and honest witness. Was he motivated by a sense of vengeance, out to get even with a woman who was not prepared to admit that she was just as culpable as he was? Could he withstand an inevitable and hostile inquisition into his credibility, with justifiable claims that he was a devious and controlling manipulator? Or would the court accept that he could, in any sense, be a reliable and objective witness?
Yet Howell was the only person who knew what had really happened. Even though there was a risk that Stewart’s defence team might be able to take the dentist’s testimony apart and therefore raise doubts as to her guilt, surely he of all people could provide the corroboration which was absolutely vital to securing a conviction? After all, he had masterminded everything, and Hazel, as he would confirm, was a willing accomplice.
The wit
nesses who had been called before Howell had given evidence about what went on before and after the bodies were discovered. But it was only Howell himself who could detail exactly what had taken place that night – in his house, at the Buchanans’ home, and in a garage in Castlerock.
And so the jury filed in to take their places. Each one of them carried a manila folder containing documents, including maps and diagrams detailing the layout of the scenes of the crime.
Howell was invited to stand up, take the Bible in his right hand, and swear by Almighty God to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It was not the first time he had been asked to take such an oath on the first floor of that building. Back in May 1992, in the very same venue, he had attended a Coroner’s Court inquest – the one held to investigate the circumstances surrounding the deaths of his wife and Trevor Buchanan.
Fast forward almost nineteen years and, as Howell surveyed the courtroom in front of him, he would have recognized some familiar faces. His daughter was there that morning: now Mrs Lauren Bradford, sitting with her new husband Michael, the man she had married in Belfast the previous year. Trevor Buchanan’s brothers and two sisters and some close family friends all sat together in the public gallery. On the opposite side, Hazel Stewart’s second husband, David, and her son Andrew and daughter Lisa McConnell (who had also married the previous year) sat in the front row, with their aunts, Hazel’s sisters, directly behind them.
Family rooms had been set aside for the duration of the trial: one for the Buchanans and one for Hazel’s relatives. There were flasks of tea and coffee, some food, and piles of glossy magazines, mostly for the women. Not surprisingly, given the unprecedented level of media coverage of the case and her photograph appearing on every front page, no newspapers were to be found in the room set aside for Hazel’s family.
Once Howell was sworn in, the courtroom fell silent for just a few seconds, as the prosecution’s Ciaran Murphy, QC, got to his feet. He asked Howell to face the jury before posing his opening question: ‘Why did you go to the police in January 2009?’
Howell’s voice was cracked and low, as if he had not cleared his throat properly. ‘I just knew that the time had come when the truth had to be told. I was overwhelmed by my conscience with hiding this crime for such a long time. I believed that there still were scars that needed to be put right and I wanted to tell the truth. That’s the only motive.’
He went on to detail the early days of his relationship with Lesley: how they had met when she was a nurse at the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast and he was at Queen’s University, studying anatomy at the Medical Biology Centre as part of his dentistry degree; how they had married and then moved to Coleraine, where he secured his first job; how, through Coleraine Baptist Church, they got to know Hazel and Trevor Buchanan.
Howell could not have been in the witness box for more than five minutes when he revealed that the relationship with Lesley was in trouble even before they exchanged their wedding vows. She was the first one to express doubts once they were already married, but as a dutiful husband he wanted to make it work: ‘I think we came into the marriage with unhappiness, but hoped, and I believed we both sincerely wanted, to make it work. But it didn’t.’
It was Howell as never before, speaking publicly – and at length – for the first time. Those in the courtroom were no doubt surprised by the degree of his composure, his soft yet assertive tone, his cultured accent and the precise, highly articulate way in which he expressed himself. He was steady and took his time. He was almost clinical in his delivery. Was this the man who had planned and carried out the cold and merciless actions which were now under intense and robust scrutiny?
Apart from his daughter at the back of the room, he was without friends and completely on his own. But he rarely showed any signs of vulnerability or stress. Only once or twice did he seem to choke on his words, especially when recalling the birth of his first son, Matthew, in 1984. But then he composed himself again, and he needed little encouragement from Mr Murphy as he went on to disclose, at times in exhaustive detail, an astonishing double life which had involved love, greed, drugs, sex, deceit, religion, and then the planning and execution of the greatest sin of all.
Howell’s initial statement for the Crown would take up one full day of his four long days in the witness box. By any standards it was an extraordinary and compelling testimony, electrifying at times, and occasionally theatrical. It was as if he wanted to divest himself of the dark, horrible secrets he had kept for all those years. Maybe he was following in the time-honoured tradition of all troubled evangelicals looking to rid themselves of their guilt – he was ‘bringing it to the cross’ in full, graphic and sometimes lurid detail. It quickly became clear, however, that Howell was not only determined to make the most of this opportunity to exorcize his guilt in such a public way, but that he was also positively relishing his own performance. Now, finally, he was centre stage.
The question-and-answer exchanges between Howell and Mr Murphy were relaxed and almost leisurely; it was as if the two men were having an informal conversation. But with the cross-examination the next day, led by Mr Ramsey, the pace quickened considerably.
Ramsey is widely acknowledged as an extremely able and competent advocate – but in Colin Howell he faced a formidable and challenging individual with a level of intelligence in some ways equal to his own. It quickly became clear that the main witness for the prosecution was no ordinary adversary, no run-of-the-mill witness. Ramsey’s brief – to prove his client’s innocence and establish that Howell’s real motive for the killings had nothing to do with love for his mistress, and everything to do with money – would be a tough and demanding one which would seriously stretch him despite his considerable abilities. He conceded that Hazel Stewart had perjured herself by lying at the inquest a year after the deaths, that she had withheld information and thus perverted the course of justice. But, he repeatedly insisted, she was absolutely not guilty of murder.
Hazel’s lawyer introduced himself: ‘Some ground rules before we start,’ he said to Howell. ‘I should tell you that some of the matters I am going to ask you about will relate to twenty years ago, or beyond that, and obviously if you are not sure about something, or can’t remember something, don’t try to guess at it. All right? Try and direct your answers towards the ladies and gentlemen of the jury, so that they can hear your evidence and [finally] if at any time you want a break, or want to stop, let us know. And subject to his Lordship, we can make arrangements.’ Howell listened attentively, appearing not the least overwhelmed.
Ramsey’s opening question was remarkably similar to that of the prosecution: ‘Mr Howell, why are you here?’
Howell replied: ‘I am here as a witness to the events in 1991, because this is the trial, the case. I can expand, if you wish?’
Mr Ramsey: ‘Yes, of course.’
Howell: ‘It was only when I acknowledged … to myself, that the truth of what happened twenty years ago was bigger than myself … Whenever I … saw that the truth was bigger and more important … I made the decision to get rid of all the deception in my life, and that included the events of twenty years ago. I believed that the impact of that was still alive and affecting people … It began after the death of my son and other events [which] made me begin to realize, because I had been so selfish and lived within my own world, that was still having an impact … When that wound is opened, a lot of people bleed and I realized that there are victims, and the closest victims to me are my children … Other children were affected … And I am here because of them … I know I set myself up to be a punch bag for all of the wrong that I have done. I am here under great personal shame. I have brought disgrace on myself and on many other people. But that is no longer the most important thing. I am prepared for what is coming today … I have been in preparation for that for a long time … It gives people a chance for the wound to be closed. I wouldn’t dare beg or ask forgiveness from any of my victims, because then I would
be really selfish. If anyone chooses to forgive me, then that will be a good thing because I believe that a person never truly recovers from an injury until they forgive. So if anyone chooses to forgive in the future, I would like that, but it would be for their sake, and not for any personal selfish reasons …’
Mr Ramsey responded: ‘That is a rather lengthy answer to a straightforward question, but effectively you seem to be saying that it is a noble gesture on your part to in some way give some closure to the victims of this. Is that right?’
Howell replied: ‘That’s right. Well, if it was noble. I have done nothing that is noble. Everything I have done is ignoble. You misunderstand or misinterpret my lengthy answer if you thought I was trying to be noble. I have no merit to be noble and that is not what I am trying to achieve by my lengthy statement.’
Ramsey: ‘You have no other agenda? You have no other reason for being here, other than to give closure to the victims today and heal the wounds that you have opened?’
Howell: ‘There is no personal benefit to me, but I am willing to bare my own disgrace.’
Even at this stage of the proceedings, it was obvious Howell was determined to make his point at all costs, and that he would spare no detail in his explanations. He was almost eager to engage in polemic with Mr Ramsey on matters of morality, religion and philosophy – even semantics. In a typical exchange, he took issue with the defence’s definition of the word ‘clever’.
Let This Be Our Secret Page 27
