Disordered Minds

*25*

There was so much hatred in the pale eyes that Sasha moved warily to the edge of her seat. On paper, there was no contest. She was taller, heavier and younger, but she didn't know how crazy Louise was and she certainly didn't fancy her chances if the woman seized on the heavy glass ashtray as a weapon. "I'm sorry if I offended you," she said, reaching down to put her notepad in her case. "It was a flippant remark and I apologize."

Louise watched her suspiciously. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I've taken up enough of your time."

"You haven't finished yet," she snapped. "Aren't you going to ask me how my father reacted when he heard I'd told the police Cill had been raped?"

This time there was no pretense when Sasha ran her tongue across her lips. There was too much emotion in the room and she lacked the experience to deal with it. aCertainly. If you want to tell me."

"The usual. Said he'd have me the minute Mum was out of the house."

"And did he?"

The cigarette trembled violently in Louise's fingers. "He sent Mum and Billy shopping, then buggered the life out of me in front of Grandstand. I even remember what was on-a horse race. I hate the fucking animals and they're on every television screen in this house." She gave a harsh laugh. "You're all obsessed with Cill's rape. What about mine?"

"Leave," said Sasha's boss in her ear. "Trevor's watching her ... says she's about to blow."

It was true. Anger flared in the woman's eyes again like a forest fire fanned by wind. "Why don't you say something? What sort of damage do you think a grown man does to a skinny little kid? Why do you think I've never had babies?"

Sasha fluttered a hand to her mouth. "I'm trying to find some ... words. I'm not qualified for this, Mrs. Fletcher. You should consult a lawyer or someone who works in the field of abuse."

Louise's derision was colossal. "How often have you been buggered, darlin'? Have you even had sex? Maybe you consult a lawyer every time a man looks at you, just so your fat little arse remains intact. Cill never got buggered-rogered by a trio of clowns, maybe, but never buggered. She should have been. It would've taken some of the heat off me."

"Humor her..."

"I'm sorry," said Sasha inadequately. "Have you ever thought about having your father prosecuted? There's no time limit on this sort of case ... and I'm sure your brother would support you. He's the one who first suggested to us that your father abused you."

The woman stared at her. "Dad paid me and Micky a small fortune in blood money to keep quiet."

"About what?"

"Micky had a knife ... said he'd chop my dad's dick off if he didn't pay for what he'd done." She fell silent, looking back down some dark corridor of time. "He was so scared ... couldn't look at me without shaking. I reminded him of Cill. It gives you a buzz when you get that kind of reaction."

Sasha ignored her boss's voice in her audio specs telling her to leave. "Did he kill Cill, Mrs. Fletcher? Your brother says you know what happened to her."

The woman stirred. "It was Howard," she said automatically.

"Is that what Roy Trent told you to say?"

Louise's mouth twisted into a cynical smile and, for a moment, she looked as if she were about to agree.

"Don't be an idiot, Lou," said a man's voice from the doorway. "There's no harm done except your pride's been dented. Let's cool it, eh?"

Sasha's heart leaped in her chest. Colley Hurst? She flicked a rapid sideways glance at the newcomer, but he had dark hair flecked with gray. "Leave now," said her boss's voice in her ear. She reached for her briefcase again.

The woman looked murderously toward the visitor. This is my house, Roy. I'm the one who says what happens in it."

"Except you're making a fool of yourself," he said harshly, before jerking his head at Sasha. "Get your stuff together, girl, and I'll see you out."

There was a pulse of time in which Louise seemed ready to accept his authority. A look of resignation crossed her face and she leaned forward to abandon her cigarette in the ashtray before pushing herself to her feet. But something happened. Perhaps Roy was too insistent. Perhaps Sasha drew attention to herself by moving. Perhaps Louise heard the tinny voice in the spectacle arm. The end result was the same-a manic fury that was beyond anything Sasha had ever imagined or witnessed.

It happened so fast she could only watch in horrified paralysis as Louise swamped Roy with a burst of energy, battering at his head and eyes with the ashtray, kneeing, kicking, forcing him to the floor. "It's always about you ... protect you ... keep your fucking secrets."

At the back of Sasha's mind was a bizarre hope that it was a performance put on for her benefit, and she was only halfway to her feet when Louise brought the heavy glass weight crashing down on Roy's temple. She lurched forward in a panic, sending the coffee table crashing onto its back. "Mrs. Fletcher! MRS. FLETCHER! For God's sake, STOP! You're killing him."

Either the woman didn't hear her or Sasha was too insignificant to worry about, but there was no time to debate the rights and wrongs of any particular action. Sasha's instinctive response was to stop the terrible battering and she lunged forward to grab at Louise's wrists. It was like being caught up by a tornado, a whirling frenzy of movement as Louise turned on her, knocking her to the floor. Sasha felt her shoulder glance off a coffee-table leg before the underside rim slammed into her spine and knocked the wind from her lungs.

If a sensible thought about tactics entered her head, she had no recollection of it. She just gritted her teeth and clung grimly to the other woman's hands, thwarting every attempt to bring the ashtray in contact with her face. Flat on her back, and unable to gain an advantage because she was trapped between the legs of the table, she fought a desperate, sweaty struggle to hold the other woman at bay.

She remembered thinking her boss would be furious because the audio specs were somewhere beneath her, broken. She remembered thinking she needed to lose weight, as she felt the back of her jacket rip. She remembered thinking her mother had taught her that nice girls never got into fights. Most of all, she remembered thinking that if she got through this she would hand in her notice immediately. Fear grew as Louise's knee jammed into her midriff and made the struggle for breath even harder. Why hadn't she heeded George's and Jonathan's advice?

After how long she decided to bullshit the woman, she didn't know. Hours? Seconds? "You don't ... need to do this," she grated out of half-starved lungs. "We know ... what happened."

Louise released her left hand from the ashtray. "No one does except me and Roy," she snarled, thrusting her hands apart and slamming Sasha's arms against the sharp edges of the table legs to break her hold. "Micky's dead and Nick can't remember."

"Then you ... tell us," Sasha managed despairingly.

Louise dragged her hands together again, preparing to repeat the exercise. "Nick'll kill me."

Sasha exerted all her strength to hold her wrists together. "Not if we ... can prove it," she grunted.

There was the briefest relaxation of pressure, and this time it was Sasha who whipped her arms out, gasping from the pain as the sharp edge of the wood cut into the flesh of her arm in the same place as before. As a tactic, it worked spectacularly. The shock of the impact catapulted the ashtray to the far side of the room and, by luck rather than judgment, toppled the smaller woman off balance, pulling Sasha into an ungainly roll. As the table legs gave way beneath her weight, she took a lungful of air and then flailed a leg across the writhing woman, pinning her to the ground.

"ENOUGH!" she roared. "I am NOT Cill Trevelyan."

POOLE POLICE STATION

CIVIC CENTER POOLE DORSET BH15 2SE

INCIDENT REPORT

Date: 5.26.03

Time: 1223

Officers attending: PC Alan Clarke, WPC Mary Chambers

Incident: Disturbance at Palencia, Frean Street, Sandbanks.

The disturbance was reported at 1223 by Duncan Bartholomew of WCH Investigations. An ambulance was requested at the same time. Officers Clark and Chambers arrived at Palencia within ten minutes. Five persons were in the house: Mrs. Priscilla Fletcher (tenant/occupier), Mr. Roy Trent (visitor), Mr. Duncan Bartholomew (partner with WCH Investigations), Ms. Sasha Spencer (WCH Investigations employee), Mr. Trevor Paul (Bentham Inquiry Agents employee). Bartholomew, Spencer and Paul are licensed operators.

Ms. Spencer reported a fight between Mr. Trent and Mrs. Fletcher, and subsequently between herself and Mrs. Fletcher when she tried to intervene. Mr. Trent had been hit on the head several times by a heavy ashtray but was sitting up by the time the officers reached the scene.

Paramedics arrived within five minutes. Although Mr. Trent initially refused medical assistance, he was persuaded to go in the ambulance and receive treatment at Poole General Hospital. He had difficulty focusing and standing, and severe concussion was diagnosed. He was asked to remain at the hospital until Officers Clarke and Chambers could take his statement. His address-Crown and Feathers, Highdown-was supplied by Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher agreed that Ms. Spencer had come to her house by invitation and that Mr. Bartholomew and Mr. Paul had come to Ms. Spencer's assistance when the fighting got out of hand. They deny trespass. Mrs. Fletcher admitted that she left her front door open when Ms. Spencer arrived, which is how Mr. Bartholomew and Mr. Paul gained entry. She thanked them for their assistance.

Mrs. Fletcher said that she had taken her husband Mr. Nicholas Fletcher for a checkup at Poole General this morning. She expressed considerable fear of both him and Mr. Trent and said she couldn't remain in the house in case either of them returned. She refused to give a statement at this time, asking instead to be taken to Poole police station to make a written statement there.

After escorting everyone off the premises, Officers Clarke and Chambers secured the house and drove Mrs. Fletcher to Poole police station. A statement was subsequently taken from Mr. Trent at the General Hospital. On his advice, Officers Clarke and Chambers allowed him to inform Mr. Fletcher of the incident. Mr. Fletcher reacted angrily but accepted Mr. Trent's offer to stay at the Crown and Feathers in Highdown until the matter is resolved.

POOLE POLICE STATION

CIVIC CENTER POOLE DORSET BH15 2SE

WITNESS STATEMENT

Date: 5.26.03

Time: 1630

Witness: Priscilla Fletcher aka Priscilla Fletcher Hurst aka Louise Burton aka Daisy Hopkinson aka Cill Trent

Officers present: DS John Wyatt, DC Peter Hughes

Also present: Ms. Sasha Spencer (at the request of the witness)

Incident: The murder of Priscilla "Cill" Trevelyan on the night of May 30/31, 1970.

This statement was written from notes made during an interview with Priscilla Fletcher. She agrees that it is a true and complete record of what she said, and she has signed it accordingly.

My father started abusing me when I was eleven years old. I believe my mother knew what was happening, although the subject has never been discussed between us. When Cill and I became friendly, I tried to keep her away from our house because I knew my father liked her. She was unhappy at home and preferred spending time in other people's houses. When we bunked off school we usually went to Grace Jefferies's, where we spent time with Howard Stamp.

I became jealous of Cill because she was popular and I wasn't. I had few girlfriends at school because none of them liked the way my father behaved toward them. Howard didn't like me because I'd teased him in the past. Our teachers blamed me for leading Cill astray, and Cill's parents reported me to my parents, saying that Cill's problems were my fault. The fight we had at school on Friday, May 29, was sparked by my jealousy.

After Mrs. Trevelyan phoned on the Saturday morning May 30 to say that Cill had not slept in her bed the previous night, I went round to Grace Jefferies's house. Cill was eating ice cream in the kitchen. I thought it was funny because my mother had said how upset Jean Trevelyan had sounded. That is what made me decide not to say anything to my parents or the police. This decision was reinforced when my mother became angry after the police suggested we might know where Cill was. I couldn't contradict her without being punished. I told the police about the rape to get Cill into even more trouble with her father. He always said he'd wash his hands of her if he found out she'd had sex with a boy. I was still angry about our fight the day before when she had punched me and pulled my hair. It seemed a good revenge to make her life even more difficult. I hadn't told my father that Cill had been raped because I didn't want him feeling sorry for her. Instead, I told him she'd had consensual sex with three boys. He became upset and started referring to her as "a tart." When he told Mr. Trevelyan that "she deserved what she got," he was referring to a possible pregnancy, as I'd told him that Cill had missed a period. This wasn't true, but my father was pleased about it because he thought the Trevelyans were snobs.

After Cill went missing, he told me to repeat the story to the police so that David Trevelyan would know the sort of daughter he had.

Soon after my mother and I returned from the police station on Saturday, May 30, my mother ordered me to go to my bedroom so that she could tell my father what I'd said to the police. I disobeyed. Instead, I went to the public telephone in Bladen Street to call Roy Trent. I had made friends with Roy Trent, Micky Hopkinson and Colley Hurst after Howard kept complaining to Cill and Grace about the way they bullied him. Even at the time I understood that I had more in common with alienated teens than I did with losers like Howard Stamp and Grace Jefferies. Now I realize that I was looking for anyone who shared my sense of unhappiness and lack of worth.

It is true that I sought out Trent, Hopkinson and Hurst and asked them to give Cill Trevelyan a fright. It is also true that I engineered the meeting and was angry when Cill insisted on bringing my brother along. At no point did I suggest rape. I asked them to pretend to like her, then treat her unkindly afterward. My feelings about the rape were mixed. I was glad that Cill was violated but I became obsessed with the idea that Trent, Hopkinson and Hurst only did it because they fancied her.

This made me angry. Although I didn't name the boys, I described them well enough to be identified. They were well known to the police at that time as persistent truants, petty thieves and vandals, and they were regularly taken home in a drunk and disorderly state from Colliton Park and the waste ground behind Colliton Way (now Colliton Industrial Estate). I hoped Trent, Hopkinson and Hurst would be scared and embarrassed by being taken in for questioning. I hoped the same would happen to Cill when she went home.

I spoke to Roy Trent at his mother's house at approximately 12:30 p.m. on Saturday, May 30, 1970, and told him what I'd said to the police. I did this because I wanted him to know how angry the rape had made me. He told me I was a fool because Micky Hopkinson carried a knife and would cut me at the first opportunity. I said they should deny they were the boys involved because I hadn't named them and wouldn't identify them. I had also kept secret from the police that my brother, William, had been a witness. Roy said none of that mattered because Cill would identify them.

He asked me where Cill Trevelyan was, and I said she was at Grace Jefferies's house. He told me to go back to Grace's and persuade Cill to go to Howard Stamp's house in Colliton Way. I said she would never agree because she knew Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson also lived in Colliton Way. Roy accepted that. Instead, he told me to persuade her to go home by leaving the house via the alleyway at the back. He asked me to wait until it got dark at around 8:30 p.m.

I refused, saying I didn't care if Cill never went home again and, in any case, I wanted Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan to suffer. The money ran out before the conversation ended. I did not understand what Roy Trent intended to do. I believed he wanted to threaten Cill to make her keep her mouth shut. If neither of us identified Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson as the boys who committed the rape, then the police would let the matter drop.

I had no intention at that time of doing what Roy Trent asked, but my mother had told my father that I'd described the incident to the police as a gang rape. He was angry with me because of what he'd said to David Trevelyan the night before. By way of punishment, he sent my mother and my brother shopping and anally raped me in front of the television. All I could think about was that it was worse than anything Cill had suffered. My bottom bled for days but I couldn't tell anyone. On Wednesday I started having fainting fits. My mother made my father call the doctor, and though I didn't tell the doctor what was really wrong, my father was frightened.

I became very upset in the wake of this incident on Saturday afternoon. I realize now that I was deeply confused and frightened, but I believed that I would be blamed for everything: the rape, the fight, Cill running away, my failure to tell the police that I'd seen her at Grace's. I was also afraid that Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson would take revenge on me if Cill identified them. I see now that I directed all my hate at Cill when I should have been directing it at my father, but I was too disturbed to understand this at the time.

At 8:15 p.m. on Saturday, May 30, I told my parents I was going to bed. They were watching television with my brother and weren't interested in me. I shut the sitting-room door and let myself out onto the street. I was absent for approximately half an hour, but I do not know if either of my parents was aware of this. They have never mentioned it.

I ran down Mullin Street to Bladen Street and turned into the alleyway at the back of Grace's house. Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson were waiting there, even though I'd told Trent I wasn't going to do what he'd asked. They said they planned to give Cill a fright so that she wouldn't name them to the police, and I believed them. They threatened me similarly if I changed my mind about identifying them. I said I wouldn't.

I had no trouble entering Grace's house because the kitchen door was open. She and Cill were watching television in the sitting room with the curtains closed. Cill wasn't pleased to see me, but Grace was. She was worried about news coverage of Cill's disappearance and had already told her that she must go home. I told Grace that I'd been questioned that morning, and that the police were saying that anyone found harboring Cill would be arrested. Grace was so concerned that she became angry with Cill and ordered her to leave. Cill burst into tears and refused, so I helped Grace drag her through the kitchen into the garden. Grace locked the door behind us.

I knew Cill would lash out at me so I ran straight to the fence. I saw Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson in the shadow of Grace's garden shed. I did not speak to them, nor did I hear them speak to Cill. I let myself out through the gate and ran home. I expected to hear the following morning that Cill had returned home.

I remember very little of the next few days because I was so frightened, by both my anal bleeding and Cill's continued disappearance. I attended school on the Monday and Tuesday but spent most of the time hiding or crying. I was shown no sympathy by the teachers or students because they held me responsible for Cill's suspension. On Tuesday afternoon I began to wonder if Cill was still in Grace Jefferies's house, so I sneaked into her garden on my way home from school.

I looked through the French windows into the sitting room. There was blood on one of the panes and the room had been vandalized. I was too scared to try the kitchen door and went straight home. From this point on, my fainting fits and convulsions became so serious that I was taken out of school and my family was eventually rehoused.

I had no contact with Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson until after Howard Stamp had confessed to Grace's murder. I was aware that they had been questioned and released about Cill's rape, but I wasn't confident enough to phone Roy Trent until it became clear that Stamp had killed his grandmother. Roy set my mind at rest immediately. He said they'd threatened Cill with a beating if she named them, then sent her home. He and his friends had no idea what had happened afterward, but they believed she'd gone looking for Howard Stamp and he'd lost his temper with her in the same way he'd lost it with Grace. He described Howard as behaving like a lunatic in the days between Cill's disappearance and his arrest. However, none of us could report it because of our own involvement.

This is the extent of my firsthand knowledge and involvement in the murder of Cill Trevelyan. Anything else I know was told to me by my first husband, Michael "Micky" Hopkinson, many years afterward.

Micky was always more troubled by his conscience than either Roy Trent or Colley Hurst. He stifled it with drugs and alcohol. He was chronically addicted to heroin by the time he was seventeen and he remained addicted until his death from overdose in 1986. We were married for twelve years and he was thirty when he died. During that time he persuaded me into drugs, forced me into prostitution to fund our habits and had several prison sentences for possession and theft. He also blackmailed my father to buy my silence about the abuse.

I realize now that my relationship with Micky was just another form of abuse. It's a pattern I repeated in my subsequent marriages to Roy Trent and Nicholas "Colley" Fletcher Hurst.

We were bound together by our knowledge of what happened on May 30, 1970, but I had no idea how dangerous my knowledge was to them until Micky confessed to Cill's murder shortly before he died.

The story he told me was as follows:

Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson had caught Cill as she was leaving Grace's garden and Colley Hurst put his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. Because she struggled, Micky showed her his knife and said he'd use it if she didn't do as she was told. She allowed Roy to put a handkerchief in her mouth and tie her hands behind her back, then they walked her to Colliton Way waste ground. Roy and Colley draped their arms over her shoulders, and Micky walked behind with his knife in her back. He said she cried the whole way there but, even though some pedestrians and cars passed them, no one noticed that anything was wrong.

They hadn't intended to kill her, but everything got out of hand when Roy and Colley decided to rape her again. Both boys had been drinking heavily since my phone call to Roy at lunchtime, and Micky thinks she died of suffocation because they didn't untie her or remove the handkerchief in case she started screaming. He said it was similar to the first rape and they only realized she was dead when she hadn't moved for several minutes. He never said whether he raped her, but I think he must have done.

He told me they put her body in one of the test pits that had been dug during the construction of the new Brackham & Wright factory. They shoveled rubble in on top of her, then went home to get some clean clothes. Roy had sobered up enough to realize that if the police took them in for the first rape, they'd find Cill's blood and hair on what they were wearing that night. Micky said he made them change and then slog across town to dispose of the clothes in someone's dustbin.

They never expected to get away with it, but all the test pits were filled in a few weeks later without being examined. Micky told me that Cill's body is under the grassed area where the factory workers eat their lunch in the summer.

I have no knowledge of the murder of Grace Jefferies. Micky never spoke about it, and Roy has always denied any involvement in it. I can only assume that Howard learned from Grace that Cill had been in her house and became angry because she hadn't told him. His interest in Cill was perverted, which may explain why he never mentioned the connection at his trial.

My life has been regulated and controlled by Roy Trent since May 30, 1970. My dependence on him was fueled for many years by my addiction to heroin. While I was married to Micky, he was our main supplier. After Micky's death in 1986, Roy took over as my pimp in order to retain control. He had a stable of prostitutes, one of whom was his wife, Robyn Hapgood. Roy married me in 1992 when I was at a low ebb in my life and close to suicide. At the time I was grateful to him.

When Colley Hurst suffered brain damage because of his treatment at the hands of the Metropolitan Police in 1998, Roy recognized that the damages would be high. He invited Colley to stay with us at the Crown and Feathers in order to access the money when it came through. Colley's life expectancy was low and he had no surviving relatives. Roy's idea was to take power of attorney during Colley's lifetime and to construct a will that made him sole beneficiary.

I had been calling myself Priscilla for some time, although Roy always shortened it to Cill because it amused him. Colley is a very sick man with extensive amnesia, but he has a lasting memory of Cill Trevelyan. He has no recollection of killing her but he does remember that she was important to him. He believes I am Cill Trevelyan because Roy was calling me Cill when he first arrived at the Crown and Feathers, and he recognized me as someone he knew.

Since the assault, Colley finds contact with people frightening and it brings on his violence. During his stay with us, he and Roy came to blows regularly over Colley's fear of the customers. In the same disturbed way that he remembers Cill as someone he loved, he remembers Roy as someone to fear and distrust. Roy was the leader when they were a gang, and I'm sure part of Colley remembers that he led them into trouble. During these outbursts I was the only person who could control him, and Roy conceived the idea that I should marry Colley and move to a secluded house where contact with people would be minimal. In return, he promised to watch over me via webcams which would be connected twenty-four hours a day to a monitor in the Crown and Feathers kitchen.

I freely admit that I went along with this plan. As Colley's wife I would inherit everything automatically, and it is an indication of Roy's arrogance and controlling nature that he never questioned my willingness to return to him once Colley was dead. Colley and I moved into Palencia on Sandbanks in August 2001 (initially paid for by Roy) and we married in November 2001, subsequently calling ourselves Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Fletcher.

This was the first time in thirty years that I was truly free of Roy Trent's influence and I used the opportunity to kick my drug habit by going cold turkey. It was made easier because Colley's paranoias meant I had to keep him tied to me all the time. He may be a violent and dangerous man, but he understood the pain I was going through and helped me in a way that no one else has ever done. I also freely admit that I have planned for the last two years to "out" Roy Trent, Colley Hurst and Micky Hopkinson as Cill Trevelyan's murderers. I also admit that by doing this I will secure Nicholas "Colley" Fletcher Hurst's money for myself. It has been suggested to me that it is convenient that one witness to Cill's murder is dead (Micky) , and the other is an amnesiac (Nick/Colley) . I can only answer that I was afraid of being killed in the same way Cill was if I'd told my story earlier.

I believe Roy has been suspicious of me ever since I came off drugs. One of his reasons for placing webcams about Palencia was to monitor anyone who came to the house. He knew, for example, that my brother had visited me before I told him. He also knew that Ms. Sasha Spencer had left her card. I told him about both incidents in order to allay his suspicions, but I did not tell him that I'd agreed to an interview with Ms. Spencer.

I hoped that by turning off the computer at my end he would think it was a glitch, but it merely made him suspicious. He has had keys to the house since August 2001 when we first moved in and he entered via the back door because he was suspicious of WCH Investigations' van in the road. I heard him come in, which is why I gave Ms. Spencer the version of events involving Howard Stamp that Roy instructed me to tell after Councillor Gardener and Dr. Hughes discovered Cill's story. However, when he attempted to remove Ms. Spencer, I realized I would be severely punished for stepping out of line.

Had I known that Ms. Spencer's colleagues were monitoring our conversation, I might have found the courage to tell the true version. They believed my husband was in the house and were ready to intervene because of his violent nature. While I understand that I have certain rights in law relating to privacy and security of information, I do not wish anyone to be prosecuted as a result of this morning's intervention by Mr. Duncan Bartholomew and Mr. Trevor Paul. I am grateful for their assistance in calling the police and the ambulance service.

I am relieved to have finally cleared my conscience.

I confirm that everything I have said in this statement is true.

Priscilla Fletcher

POOLE POLICE STATION

CIVIC CENTER POOLE DORSET BH15 2SE

WITNESS STATEMENT

Date: 5/27/03

Time: 1700

Witness: Roy Trent

In the presence of: DS John Wyatt, DC Peter Hughes

Also present: n/a (Witness refused a lawyer)

Incident: The alleged murder of Priscilla "Cill" Trevelyan on the night of May 30/31, 1970.

Mr. Roy Trent presented himself voluntarily at Poole police station in order to answer allegations made against him by Priscilla Fletcher on May 26, 2003. This statement was written by him and he agrees that it is a true and complete record of what he said. He has signed it accordingly.

Priscilla Fletcher's story is a complete fabrication. I deny absolutely that I, Micky Hopkinson or Colley Hurst had any involvement in or knowledge of the alleged murder of Priscilla "Cill" Trevelyan on the night of May 30/31, 1970.

It is almost thirty-three years, to the day, that Cill Trevelyan went missing and it is impossible to prove or refute these allegations when so many witnesses are dead or, as in Nicholas "Colley" Hurst's case, severely brain damaged.

I do not deny that we raped Cill in early May 1970, nor that we bullied Howard Stamp mercilessly until he pulled out a knife and attacked us. I cannot recall precisely when this incident happened but I believe it was some time in late March or early April 1970.

Priscilla Fletcher is a deeply damaged woman who suffered appalling abuse at the hands of her father when she was a child. She has been a prostitute and a drug addict, although I deny that I ever pimped for her or supplied her with class-A narcotics.

I cite my reputation in Highdown for being anti-drugs and the attempts I made when Priscilla and I first married to put her into rehab. I would also ask for my son, Peter, to be interviewed, who will testify on my behalf re: Priscilla's corrupting influence. By the time he was seventeen years old she had ensnared him into the drug culture, with all that that entails.

We became inextricably linked with Louise Burton a.k.a. Priscilla Fletcher long before Cill Trevelyan's disappearance and Grace Jefferies's murder. Louise gravitated toward us because of her own unhappiness at home, and because she knew we had a similar ill feeling toward Howard Stamp as she had. In her case it was fueled by jealousy of Cill.

In the wake of the above two events, she became a natural ally because of her refusal to name us to the police. None of the secrets we shared were so bad that we couldn't have revealed them at the time, but we weren't bright enough to understand that.

I have no explanation for why she is now accusing us of murdering Cill on the night of May 30/31, 1970 unless it is to rid herself of the nuisance of looking after Nicholas "Colley" Fletcher Hurst. She genuinely loved Micky Hopkinson and was married to him for twelve years. I allowed her to move in with me after my first wife died because I felt some responsibility for her as Micky's widow. I became fond of her and we married in 1992 on the understanding that she would kick her habit. She didn't.

We had been living apart for six months when I offered to take on the care of Nicholas "Colley" Hurst in 2000. Louise immediately saw an advantage in marrying him. I made no objection because he was difficult to manage at the pub. In exchange for a percentage of the inheritance, I agreed to monitor them via webcams in case he became violent. He carries a mobile telephone which I have trained him to answer. In this way I can defuse difficult situations before they happen. His "violent" episodes are rare.

Contrary to what Louise has told you, Colley readily responds to me, but is easily roused to anger when she becomes impatient with him. I cite yesterday's example at the hospital when he agreed to come home with me, as witnessed by two police officers.

I went to Palencia yesterday because the webcam link had failed and I wanted to check it. I deny that I ordered Ms. Sasha Spencer from the house to prevent Louise talking to her. I did it because I could see that Ms. Spencer's unwise remark about Cill Trevelyan's popularity had fired Louise into a temper. Cill Trevelyan is an obsession with her. I believe it comes from guilt. She needs to be told all the time that it wasn't her fault Cill vanished.

I agree that Nicholas "Colley" Hurst believes that Louise is Cill Trevelyan. I also agree that neither she nor I has attempted to correct this assumption. I have no explanation for why he retains a memory of Cill unless the rape remains on his conscience.

I have never raised a hand to Louise, although I threaten it from time to time when she attacks me as she did yesterday. She has an aggressive nature and is willing to provoke fights. I cite the fact that I could easily have defended myself, but chose not to because I would have done more damage to her than she did to me.

I believe now, as I have always done, that Howard Stamp was responsible for the murder of Grace Jefferies and the probable murder of Cill Trevelyan. I have no knowledge of either crime, but I have always wondered why Stamp never mentioned Cill's connection with Grace to the police or his defense team. If he was innocent of Grace's murder then he would have given the names of anyone remotely connected with her in order to shift police attention away from him. For example, he would have named myself, Hurst and Hopkinson, since he would have known about the rape. If Cill didn't tell him herself because they were friends, then Grace would certainly have done after Cill used her bathroom to clean up.

I admit that we lived in fear of this happening. I admit, too, that we made a pact to deny everything as the safest course of action. There have been many times in the past thirty-three years when I have wanted to come clean about the events of May 1970, but it wasn't my story to tell. Whatever Louise may say now about clearing her conscience, she has always been the main instigator in keeping the truth suppressed.

In conclusion, I repeat the point made above. If Howard Stamp had been innocent of Grace's murder, then he would have told the whole story. If he was guilty of two murders, then he would have selected the pieces that best suited his defense.

I confirm that everything in this statement is true.

Roy Trent