Skin and Bones (14 page)

EVENTS OF 19 JANUARY

It must be stated that there is a considerable
degree of conjecture in the sequence
of events stated here. Immediately after
the incident, a team of twenty-four detectives
and almost fifty other officers was
employed to conduct the most thorough
possible investigation. However, the lack
of eyewitness evidence means that in some
cases it was necessary to make educated
guesses about Forester's movements.

We know Forester rose early, at around
0530, in the house in Falcombe where he
lived with his mother. She estimates he left
the house at approximately 0600. He was
dressed in camouflage trousers and a blue
denim jacket, and armed with a crowbar
purchased from a builder's merchants in
Burgess Hill on 15 January. It is believed
he also had the Walther P22 in his possession
at this time.

From Falcombe he made his way on foot to
Chilton Manor, approximately two miles away,
gaining access to the house by breaking a
ground-floor window. The owners, George and
Vanessa Matheson, were at their London home,
and appear not to have set the alarm the
day before. There is no evidence that
Forester had any knowledge of the security
codes or could have disabled the alarm.

Forester used the crowbar to break into
Matheson's gun cabinet and removed the Purdey
shotgun. He also ransacked the house and
defecated on a dining table, before moving
on to Hurst Farm. Keith and Laura Caplan
were eating breakfast in the kitchen, but
it appears their nine-year-old daughter,
Megan, was still in bed.

It is thought Mrs Caplan answered the door
and was led back to the kitchen at gunpoint.
Mr Caplan rose from his chair and was shot
in the stomach with the shotgun. It is
likely he was forced to watch as his wife
was stripped and subjected to a savage sexual
assault, and at some point he died from his
injuries. Mrs Caplan was also shot and killed
with the shotgun. Forester then went upstairs
and attempted to smother Megan with a pillow.
She suffered serious oxygen deprivation, and
as of the date of this report remains in
a coma.

Forester left the farmhouse at approximately
0720, heading along Hurst Lane
towards Chilton. As he passed the Green
Man public house he saw the publican, Mr
Barry Johnson, attending to his pet rabbits
in the garden. Mr Johnson appears to have
been running for shelter when he was shot
three times and killed.

Telecommunications in Chilton are routed
via a BT cabinet 'green box' situated on
the corner of Hurst Lane. Forester forced
entry to the box and severed the wires at
0733, rendering the village without landline
communication. As previously mentioned,
Chilton does not have mobile-phone coverage.

Forester then approached the Old
Schoolhouse, the residence of seventy-twoyear-
old widower Philip Walker. Mr Walker
was shot in the chest and left for dead in
the hallway of his home.

It appears Forester crossed Hurst Lane
again and made for St Mary's church. Here
he found the vicar, the Reverend Mark
Armitage, and a Mrs Dorothy Poplett, aged
sixty-three, who was employed as a cleaner.
Both were shot several times. Mrs Poplett
died immediately, but Rev. Armitage appears
to have lived for another twenty-five
minutes, and was possibly still alive when
one of the few surviving witnesses, Ms
Julia Trent, sought help in the church at
approximately 0800.

Forester moved on to the terraced cottages
south of St Mary's. At No. 18 High Street
he killed Ms Samantha Todd, aged thirtyfour,
and her six-year-old son, Frankie.

The occupants of number 16 were away, so
Forester went to number 14, where he killed
the only resident, eighty-one-year-old Audrey
Wheeler.

At number 12 he killed Mr Geoffrey McBride,
fifty, and then stopped to reload. His wife,
Rose McBride, fifty-two, managed to warn
her two children, who were able to hide.
Forester shot and wounded Mrs McBride
as she fled upstairs, then moved on to
number 10, where he shot and injured Mrs
Doreen Collins in the hallway of her home.
Mrs Collins, seventy-seven, survived the
incident but was left paralysed from the
waist down.

Forester then retraced his steps, possibly
in response to the appearance of a Royal
Mail van driven by Mr Trevor Fox, aged
thirty-seven. Mr Fox had opened the rear
doors of the van when Forester appeared
from his left and shot him twice in the
face.

The murder was witnessed by Mr Ian
Sorrill, at number 5 Arundel Crescent.
Mr Sorrill shouted to his wife and
children to get up and called 999. Finding
the landline dead, he attempted to call on
his mobile phone but without success. He
then led his family through their back garden
and across farmland for approximately one
mile, until they reached the main road.
Eventually Mr Sorrill got a signal and made
an emergency call at 0809.

Gaining entry to number 1 Arundel Crescent,
Forester killed fifty-nine-year-old Tom
Bradbury and his wife Mavis, fifty-eight,
who had just sat down to breakfast. He also
killed their dogs, two red setters, then
remained in the home for some ten or fifteen
minutes, eating their breakfast.

At this point, around 0800, Julia Trent
discovered the body of Trevor Fox and went
into St Mary's church to raise the alarm,
only to find the Reverend Armitage and Mrs
Poplett. She made her way to the footpath
that runs parallel to the High Street and
entered number 18, where she discovered the
bodies of Ms Todd and her son.

Meanwhile, at 2 Arundel Crescent, Mrs Alice
Jones had also witnessed the murder of Trevor
Fox. She bolted her front door and went
upstairs with her three young children,
where they barricaded themselves in the
master bedroom. Mrs Jones focused on keeping
the children calm and quiet, but occasionally
looked out. At approximately 0813 she
glimpsed Julia Trent running on to the green
with Forester in pursuit.

From the living room of number 18 High
Street, Ms Trent saw Forester emerge from number
1 Arundel Crescent and walk towards
number 2. Receiving no answer there, he
moved on to number 3, whose occupants, Mr
and Mrs Granger, had been to a party until
the early hours. Mr Granger believes he was
vaguely aware of the doorbell, but decided
to ignore it. He and his wife continued to
sleep through the incident, and did not stir
until wakened by the noise of the police
helicopter at 0840.

It is thought Forester may have grown frustrated
by the lack of response, for he ignored
the remaining houses and instead made for the
village store. Unfortunately, Forester
entered the shop and killed the proprietor,
fifty-seven-year-old Mrs Moira Beaumont,
before Ms Trent could alert her to the danger.
Forester then pursued Ms Trent back along
the path to the church. Her recollection is
somewhat unreliable, as will be noted later,
but she alleges Forester engaged in this
chase for his own amusement.

Trent fled through the churchyard and on
to the green, as confirmed by Alice Jones,
and was brought down by a long-range shot
which grazed her leg. At this point, Ms
Trent's life was saved by the intervention
of Philip Walker. Despite being severely
wounded, Mr Walker distracted Forester, who
returned to the Old Schoolhouse and shot
him dead. Ms Trent used this diversion to
reach the yew tree on the green, which she
managed to climb to a height of approximately
ten or eleven feet.

It is thought Forester returned to the
green and discovered the trail of blood
leading to Ms Trent's hiding place. Possibly
by now he could hear the first police siren.
In any event, he raked the tree with fire
from the pistol, hitting Trent in the side
and causing her unconscious body to fall
from the tree.

Finally, Carl Forester took his own life,
with a shot to the temple. It is thought
he died just a minute or two before the
first police officers arrived on the scene,
at 0822.

The report became progressively harder to read. Without knowing it,
she began muttering, 'No . . . No . . .' A cry to ward off the horrors of
that day, but also a protest at the report's conclusion.

Carl Forester took his own life
. There was the confirmation, in stark
black print, that she was on her own.

She quickly scanned the next section. Under the heading 'Police
Response', it detailed the actions taken by the emergency services
to secure the scene and provide aid to the victims, including
Julia. It went on to give a summary of the huge investigation
launched on that morning, and then touched on the country's reaction
to the tragedy, including a visit by the Home Secretary on
the Monday.

Julia went on reading, but at some point stopped taking it in.
All she could see was that one dreadful sentence. The official
verdict.

Carl Forester took his own life.

Carl Forester killed himself.

End of story.

She hadn't realised she was crying, or that it was loud enough to be
heard in the corridor. Gradually she became aware of a tapping on
the door, Kate asking if she was all right.

Wiping her cheeks, Julia got up and opened the door.

'I'm okay,' she said. 'Really.'

'You don't look it.' Kate hesitated, then said, 'I don't know if I should
tell you this . . .'

'It's all right. I've already spoken to him.'

Kate's gaze shifted from Julia to the bed, where the report still lay
open, then back to Julia. She was bursting with questions, but to her
credit all she said was: 'He's in the car park.'

He was waiting in a black VW Golf. Julia felt slightly irritated to
see him sitting there, as if he had known she would have to seek
him out, but there seemed little point in snubbing him. He might
just come back tomorrow or, worse still, leak her whereabouts to the
media.

This time she'd brought the walking stick with her. She was
reluctant because she didn't like the assumptions people made when
they saw it. But he'd already seen her using it in Rye, and more
importantly a voice of caution warned against getting into his car.

He opened his window, his smile fading as he registered her sombre
expression.

'There's a café just down the road,' she said. 'Shall we go there?'

'Fine.' He went to put his seatbelt on.

'I'd prefer to walk.'

'Sure?' He glanced at the walking stick. 'Wouldn't it be easier by car?'

'Maybe. But I'd like to walk.'

He gave her a look, as though he might object, then thought better
of it. 'Sure.'

Bringing the laptop bag with him, he followed Julia out of the car
park. It was a short journey on level ground, and with the aid of the
stick she was able to keep up a fairly brisk pace. She didn't want him
feeling he had to dawdle for her sake.

The pavement was narrow, with a covering of sand deposited by
winter storms, and once or twice his arm brushed against hers as they
walked. Remembering her earlier panic in Rye, she was impressed
that it didn't make her flinch.

The café was a grim single-storey building on the edge of a large car
park serving the beach. Next to it were a couple of shops selling beachware
and tourist tat, but they were locked up and shuttered for the
winter. Inside the café there was only one table occupied, an elderly
couple quietly bickering in the corner. Julia and Craig sat down in
the opposite corner and ordered coffees from a surly teenage girl.

Julia had brought the report with her, and the envelope now lay
on the table between them.

'It must have been painful to read,' Craig said.

She was tempted to answer glibly:
Not as painful as living it.
But
she wasn't entirely sure that was true. She tore open a sachet of sugar,
poured it into her coffee and stirred for longer than was necessary.

'That last section must have really pissed you off.'

She frowned. 'Actually, I didn't . . . By then I was just skimming it.'

He upended the envelope and the report slid on to the table. Julia
had to struggle not to recoil from it. She watched him flick through
the pages. His hands were large but smooth, the nails neatly trimmed
except for those on his thumbs, which were bitten ragged.

'Here it is,' he said, tapping the relevant paragraphs.

It was nearly two weeks before detectives
were permitted to question the last of
Forester's victims, Julia Trent. During
interviews she was highly emotional and
her recollection was often flawed and inconsistent.
Fortunately her description of
Forester's pursuit on to the village green
can be partially corroborated by Alice Jones,
who was the last witness to see Forester
alive.

However, Trent also made a number of allegations
about the involvement of another
person in the shootings. No evidence could
be found to support these allegations, either
in terms of forensic evidence at the scene
or from witnesses such as Alice Jones or
the other surviving residents of the village.
In addition to her ordeal on 19 January,
it must be remembered that Ms Trent suffered
the loss of her parents in a domestic accident
in December 2007, and this no doubt
contributed to her fragile mental state.

It is therefore the conclusion of the senior
investigating officer that Carl Forester,
acting alone and for reasons known only to
him, attacked a total of eighteen people,
killing fourteen and injuring four, before
taking his own life.

'There you go, then,' Julia said. 'It's a wonder they didn't just cart
me off to the nuthouse.'

Craig looked away, developing a tactful fascination with his own
drink. 'Maybe this is too soon,' he said.

Julia put her coffee down and dug in her bag for a tissue. She blew
her nose loudly, then let out a long sigh.

'I don't know what to think any more. By the time the interview
finished, they almost had me believing I was a madwoman.'

'What did you tell them, exactly?'

Julia looked at him. He was leaning forward, close enough for her
to catch the smell of mints on his breath. It made her conscious that
she'd eaten a tuna sandwich. She leaned back in her seat, giving the
impression she was much more relaxed than she felt.

'Do you really want to know?'

He nodded. Quite vehement. She thought again of the detective's
warning:
Don't breathe a word of this.

She glanced at the report.
During interviews she was highly
emotional and her recollection was often flawed and inconsistent.

Fuck you, she thought.

So she told him.