The Murder of Valerie Johnson (Part One) by Chris Lloyd

23^rd December 1965

He knew something was amiss as he approached the front door; water was leaking out and trickling down the steps like a small stream over rocks.

He climbed them but, as he turned the key and opened the door, a deluge stormed out, caught him by surprise and took his legs from underneath him. He was momentarily dazed but recovered quickly enough to dodge a floating milk bottle coming straight at his head. He swore as he climbed back up the steps, but the deluge had abated so entrance to the house was easier. Once inside he stood and took in the scene before him.

“Chaos, bloody chaos,” he said aloud.

He’d left a light on when he went out that morning but assumed the water had put paid to the electricity supply. He made his way gingerly towards the kitchen to fetch the torch which he found in its usual drawer. Switching it on gave him the full picture of the damage.
“Bloody hell, what a mess,” he said to himself as he shone the light at the ceiling, at which point the bulging plaster gave way showering the kitchen with yet more water and debris. He heard it in time and jumped out of the way, just.

Something caught his eye. It was a woman’s shoe. Bright red, high heels. He picked it up. Brand new, very expensive. What on earth was it doing in here? Then a pair of sodden panties caught on round a chair leg. For a split second he was quite seriously wondering if he was in the right house.

What he heard next were bells ringing and lights shining, madly illuminating the house, followed by the sounds of vehicles coming to a halt outside.

He heard his name being called and feet rushing through the now easily accessible door. He walked towards the sound and was confronted by four police officers, two of whom were armed, two of whom were carrying powerful flash lamps.

“Stay where you are, hands above your head. Do not move.” He did as he was told. 

On 28^th December 1965 he was committed to stand trial for the murder of Valerie Johnson.

The trial took place at The Old Bailey, such was the seriousness of his alleged crime and such was the reputation of Miss Johnson. The Barrister for Miss Johnson started the prosecution’s case which was that he, we shall keep him anonymous for now, did willfully, knowingly and wickedly murder the deceased. The Barrister announced to the court that he would prove the case was clear cut.

The case for the defence was to simply deny all charges by proving he had been away.

After day one of the evidence presented by the prosecution, it looked as if the case was proven. It was clearly stacked against him and it seemed impossible to refute any of it. No witnesses had yet been called. Miss Johnson had died in agony, according to the Prosecution, at the hands of a sick, sadistic killer. “That man there!” he shouted pointing his bony index finger.

“Miss Johnson was found in a squalid, filthy bathroom lying in a galvanised bath tub with her black stockinged legs sticking over one side. One red shoe was dangling from her right foot. She was otherwise beneath water level with the cold water tap left on, water running into her mouth and eyes. We do not know if she was deceased prior to her being placed into the bath. We estimate her death to be mid-morning of December 23^rd 1965.
“You, sir, committed this heinous crime and you, sir, will pay the price……”

The Defendant took all this in. He took it all in knowing that he did not commit this crime and that he also knew who did.

 

To be continued….