The Blooding (13 page)

Few of the marks on the battered body of Dawn Ashworth suggested defense injuries. Tapings were taken from various parts of the body, along with oral, vaginal and anal swabs. Fingernail and hair samples were collected and a red fiber was found in the debris covering her. For the record, the cause of death was asphyxia due to strangulation.

The pathologist editorialized in his official report that it was "a brutal sexual attack," a theme that was seized upon by the press, and would, as the rumors and gossip blazed through the villages, suggest lurid stories of Dawn Ashworth's having been raped by bottles and tree limbs and other objects.

The pathology report was not as ruthless and dehumanizing as most. An opinion was mercifully added to the conclusion: "When one considers the amount of bruising in relation to the larynx I have to suggest that the sexual attack occurred after strangulation and, therefore, at or after death." A drop of solace.

An employee who'd worked with Dawn on the last afternoon of her life told police that a boy had bought her a "cuddly toy" and of course that boy was sought, interviewed and cleared. From the joy of being presented with a cuddly toy by an admirer, the vivacious virginal girl had gone immediately to a nightmare death on Ten Pound Lane.

Even veteran policemen sought consolation in the opinion of the pathologist, and hoped she hadn't been aware of all that was being done to her.

Sunday morning Pearce woke up at 6:00 A
. M
. as he normally did, but he felt anything but normal. Still, he summoned a student nurse and said cheerfully, "I've cracked it!"

"You've cracked it, all right," she answered.

"No, I mean I've beaten it. I'm fine. Magnificent!"

He started hopping down the corridor to show everyone how magnificent he was.

They sent for a doctor and Pearce told him, "I feel a bit of a fraud, doctor. I shouldn't be here."

"You're not going anywhere," the doctor said.

"No, really," Pearce said. "I'm just wasting your time and taking up bed space. I'm signing myself out of here."

"Promise me you won't be completely stupid," the doctor said. "Take three weeks off from work."

"Right. I'm going to stay with me mum and dad and rest for three weeks," Pearce promised.

The doctor then said something to the effect that it was Pearce's funeral and left the world's worst patient to his own devices.

Pearce rang the police station and got into another debate with a sergeant who thought it was perhaps unwise to be one's own physician. "I'm giving you an order!" Pearce said. "Get down here with some clothes or I'm going out naked!"

The clothes arrived and Pearce was driven home, weak and sick, his head like a summer squash. He called David Baker at 6:00 P
. M
. Sunday night, but he was informed he wouldn't be working the Dawn Ashworth murder inquiry. Baker reminded Pearce that he'd worked on previous murders and it was time to let other inspectors gain some homicide experience. Pearce countered by saying he'd at least like to come back and cover the division, in that the doctor had overreacted and now realized Pearce was in great shape.

Pearce showed up at work on Monday feigning perfect health, but regretfully watched the formation of a murder squad to hunt the killer of Dawn Ashworth. He was profoundly disappointed. He knew they were also hunting the killer of Lynda Mann.

Headlines were huge. An early Mercury edition announced that the missing schoolgirl had been found dead. It was quickly followed by a later edition with a fuller story.

DAWN: HUNT FOR DOUBLE KILLER

The sex killer who brutally murdered 15-year-old Dawn Ashworth on Friday almost certainly attacked and strangled Lynda Mann, another schoolgirl, whose body was found a few hundred yards away near Carlton Hayes Hospital, less than three years ago.

Detectives hunting the killer, many of whom investigated Lynda's killing, today asked for maximum public help to catch 'a very sick person' and said that a tiny scratch on a man's face could be a vital clue to the killer . . . for Dawn put up a brave fight and probably injured her killer.

There were a few things wrong with that information. First, the police knew that Dawn had been killed on Thursday afternoon or early evening, and second, she had probably not put up a very vigorous light. But, as in the case of Lynda Mann, it was impossible for journalists, family and even many of the police to believe that the victim of what the press would always call "a horrific sexual assault" would not have battled ferociously.

David Baker's statement to reporters was more accurate: "There is every possibility that Dawn put up a struggle and she may have injured her assailant, either by scratching or biting him, or he may have injured himself in the struggle."

By the second day of the inquiry the police had a witness from a factory yard across the motorway who claimed to have heard a scream just after 5:00 P
. M
., quickly followed by another, "like a young child but lower-pitched and muffled." Originally the witness had thought it must be children at play, as indeed it may have been, since he had to have heard it some two hundred yards away, across six lanes of rush-hour traffic. Still, it was the best initial lead to come in.

Because they apparently had a series killer on their hands, the call-out was even larger than it had been for Lynda Mann. More than two hundred officers were assembled.

The Eastwoods, who did not know the Ashworths, were immediately sought out by reporters. Eddie Eastwood obliged them by saying, "We were hoping Dawn would not turn up the same way as Lynda, but when we heard she had, it was like putting the clock back. Emotionally, we were back at square one."

And once again, the Eastwoods were scrupulously honest in describing what they wanted from the law. "By justice," Eddie said, "I mean imprisonment for the rest of his life. If we had capital punishment I would want him to hang for taking the lives of these two children."

Kath Eastwood said, "If someone has been covering for him, then they're responsible for this second murder and should be brought to trial for it. That person should consider it and stop him before he does it again. For God's sake, give him up!"

Just as in the Lynda Mann case, reports began pouring in, hundreds within the first few days. Suddenly other assault victims were reporting unrelated crimes, including a young boy who said he'd been indecently accosted near Ten Pound Lane.

Reporters from all the media prowled hungrily for impressions of ho
w i
t was to live in "the village of fear." A man who usually walked his dogs on Ten Pound Lane reported that he would always be haunted by the fact that he had not taken out his dogs that day.

On the third day of the inquiry the police became drawn toward the "running man," who would prove as elusive as the "spiky-haired youth" in the Lynda Mann inquiry. At about 5:30 P
. M
. on the afternoon of the murder a woman had had to brake sharply for a young man who dashed across Leicester Road near the M1 motorway bridge. She described him as blondish, in his early twenties, of medium height. The time of her sighting correlated with the report of screams at 5:00 P
. M
. Another witness reported that a young man had made a death-defying run across the M l at rush hour. The running man became, and would remain, the hottest lead.

On August 6th, one week after the Dawn Ashworth murder, a twenty-three-year-old policewoman, about the same height as Dawn and with the same slender build, dressed in a costume replicated with the help of Barbara Ashworth. She traced Dawn's route from Narborough across King Edward Avenue and up Ten Pound Lane, hoping to jog the memory of any potential witness. The reenactment of Dawn's last walk was videotaped.

By then, two independent witnesses, one of whom was a local farmer, reported having seen a man crouching in the hedgerows on an embankment by King Edward Avenue on the fatal Thursday. David Baker told journalists, "There is every indication that the man seen in the long grass near the bridge on King Edward Avenue and between the crash barrier and the motorway is the same person. We also strongly suspect this man is responsible for Dawn's murder."

And on the day that police asked the public to help find the running man, Robin and Barbara Ashworth decided to make their first official appearance at a press conference. They were told that it could be enormously helpful to the murder squad and to the public at large. Moreover, it would satisfy the press. They'd talked it over and decided to be fair to the police, to be fair to reporters, to be fair to the public. Robin and Barbara had spent a lifetime trying to be fair, and did so even now when life had been monstrously unfair to them.

Two police officers, male and female, had been detailed to answer their door, open their mail, and answer their telephone, in order to shield them from press and public. The Ashworths were beginning to learn that murder annihilates privacy. And that the murder of one's child--destruction of all certitude and continuity--is the worst thing that can happen to a human being.

David Baker was at that first press conference, along with other officers from the murder squad, to provide support and protection. He'd found that, at first, Robin had more trouble holding together while Barbara appeared resolute, asking questions of the police, wanting to know everything.

For the occasion Robin wore a tan coat, a striped tie, a fresh shirt, but his dark hair tumbled down across his forehead, giving him a rumpled look. His face was gray and he looked several years older to those who knew him. Barbara seemed composed and cool in a pale blue frock with a white collar, and a white jacket draped over her shoulders. But she was pale and dry-mouthed, her upper lip gumming to her teeth as she grappled with the smoldering emotions of the survivor. She seemed to be propping up Robin as they sat before the battery of reporters. She took his hand in both of hers and held on to him, as though he might fall.

There were some perfunctory police remarks about the duty of family members to come forward if they harbored suspicion about a loved one.

When it was Robin's turn, he said, "No matter what they feel, no matter what relationship they have to him, they've got to put that aside and do anything to keep it from happening again."

Barbara's defense at this stage of grief allowed her to draw on the infinite rage of parents of murdered children. She alluded to the shelterer of the killer as being as guilty as the killer himself, but then she caught herself because they were trying to persuade anyone close to the murderer to come forward.

She said, "Lynda Mann's parents have been very supportive. Obviously, I feel that I don't want to support any other mother going through the same thing. We've got to find the . . ." She paused and momentarily grappled with her fury, but said, ". . . fiend, really, that did this to my daughter . . ." Then she paused again and looked at Robin and squeezed his hand tighter and said, ". . . our daughter . . . to stop it from happening again."

Robin broke down once, but caught hold. He said, "I warned her and warned her about the footpaths, but she always assured me she went across the footbridge to Narborough. But children, particularly children Dawn's age, think they know best and . . . and if there's a shortcut on a bright summer's day, for sure, they'll use it."

Barbara Ashworth suddenly looked pale and wan, just before her defenses caved in.

She said, "You know the pitfalls with a child and you obviously try to shield them, but . . . I thought I'd be the last person that anything like this would happen to!"

She sobbed then, but Robin picked up for her and resumed the thread of conversation. They both continued bravely until the mob of reporters was satiated.

The vicar of Enderby issued a public appeal for the killer to give himself up.

Canon Alan Green, speaking to the Leicester Mercury shortly after hearing that Dawn's body had been found, had this message for the murderer:

You have committed a dreadful crime and you should give yourself up now and beg the forgiveness of Dawn's parents and the whole community.

You should come forward and ease your conscience because at some time in the future you will have to face your creator and account for the terrible thing you have done.

The vicar reiterated that the killer was obviously a sick man, and the vicar, like just about everyone else in the villages, including many members of the inquiry team, continually referred to "good" and "evil," and made appeals to a "conscience." The word "sociopath" was never heard to escape the lips of anyone associated with the inquiry. It was apparently impossible for most to imagine a category of human beings to whom moral judgments of good and evil do not apply. To whom "conscience" or "superego" is irrelevant, because they are simply without one.

A professor of psychiatry from Leicester University, when interviewed by a television journalist, touched on the theme of sociopathy. He said, "I think it unlikely that the killer is someone ill in the conventional sense, and very unlikely to be someone at the hospital. He may be someone from nearby who no one suspects. He may be regarded by his family as a quiet, even timid man. It's extremely unlikely that his family and friends will believe he could be responsible for these attacks.

"It's likely that he's vulnerable in ways not apparent. His abnormality is in his mind and bursts out only occasionally. Once an episode of violence occurs it becomes the focus of an inner preoccupation and fantasy, and this increases the likelihood of it happening again."