The Sleep of Reason: The James Bulger Case (29 page)

Jon liked computer games, and was a big fan of Sonic the Hedgehog. At home he had a Commodore C64 that plugged into the television, a Sonic watch and some ordinary hand-held games.

When he first started at St Mary’s, his dad used to pick him up and take him home to Norris Green every day. Then Jon began staying over at his dad’s a couple of nights a week. It was on one of those nights that Bobby called for Jon, asking for him to play out. Jon told Neil that Bobby was just a boy from his class at school, but the boy in the flat below Neil said that Bobby came from a bad family. Neil told Jon not to play with Bobby and, after that, Neil would chase Bobby if he called at the flat.

The beginning of Jon’s new school year in September 1992, five months before the killing of James Bulger, was marked by his graduation from short grey pants to long black school trousers.

At about this time his parents decided to try and revive their relationship, and began living together at Neil’s home for half the week. Neil’s father had died in June, and Neil had moved back to his father’s flat in Breeze Close. He and Susan had taken the children on holiday together, to Pwllheli Butlins in North Wales, and had decided to attempt a reconciliation. Susan started going to Breeze Hill with the three children on Thursday, and staying over until Sunday.

It was little more than five minutes’ walk from Neil’s new home to school for Jon, who usually made the journey there on his own, and might be met at the gates by his dad for the walk back. Every Friday Mark and Michelle were taken to Norris Green to meet the minibus that took them to Meadow Bank, and when they came back to Norris Green in the afternoons, they were met by Neil or Susan for the return trip to Walton.

Sometimes, when Jon became too difficult for Susan, he would stay with his father throughout the week. Otherwise, he would travel to school from Norris Green and back again on his own, on the 60 or 81 bus, because Susan had to look after Mark and Michelle.

Jon and Bobby were now in 5R with 26 other pupils, the boys outnumbered by 18 girls. The teacher, Mrs Rigg, did not find Jon and Bobby any more trouble than many of the children she taught, though she found it advisable to keep them apart, placing their desks at either end of the classroom.

Jon was not generally naughty, but he could be disruptive, awkward and lazy. Bobby was fairly easy to handle, but was always ready to tell tales on the others, and would never admit to doing anything wrong himself. There were no signs that the teacher noticed in either boy of violent or aggressive tendencies.

Joan Rigg developed a soft spot for Jon. She could see that he knew when he was misbehaving but carried on anyway, as if he didn’t care, as if he wanted the attention. When she confronted him he would hang his head and avoid her eye. When Bobby was challenged he would turn meek and, apparently, cry to order. Joan Rigg felt that Bobby was shrewd, streetwise and always aware of what was going on around him.

Neither of the boys’ classwork reflected the advantage of being a year older than the other children. She ranked them both in the lower half of the class. Still, she believed that when she taught the class the parable of the Good Shepherd, Bobby and Jon would have got the message that it was important to be kind to people and protective, even towards strangers.

Other members of staff who came into contact with the two boys formed differing impressions of them. Lynn Duckworth, the dinner lady who
supervised the playground during lunchbreaks, often had to reprimand Jon for being a nuisance to the other children. The standard punishment was to be made to stand facing the wall for a few minutes.

The first couple of times this happened to Jon he turned round and butted his head against the wall before falling down and flailing his arms. The dinner lady paid no attention and eventually Jon stopped doing it, but she thought the boy had a problem, and shouldn’t have been at the school. By comparison, Bobby seemed quite normal and likeable, and was never very difficult.

One of the longest-serving teachers, Ruth Ryder, who had been at the school for 22 years, knew Bobby as a quiet, non-verbal child who was a little bit crafty and calculating; always quick to deny any misdeeds and shift the blame elsewhere; a bit manipulative and influential, in his own way, and capable of getting others into trouble. With Jon, Bobby was definitely the leader, the more streetwise of the two, while Jon seemed more immature and easily led.

In most of his dealings with Ruth Ryder, Jon was very quiet and submissive. But on one occasion, when she was telling him off in front of a class, Jon began holding his hands across his face in an odd, aggressive manner, as if shielding himself. He put his head to one side and turned away to the class, giggling.

It was this type of behaviour, together with the tantrums and the telling of lies, that led another teacher, Jacqueline Helm, to the conclusion that Jon was emotionally disturbed.

Helm taught Bobby’s kid brother, Ryan, and though she never actually took a class with Jon and Bobby she formed the impression that they were both disruptive influences in the classroom and not very popular with the other pupils. Despite this, she often felt sorry for Jon who had a sweet air about him and yet managed to earn a reputation as a trouble-maker.

The head teacher, Irene Slack, was forever speaking to Jon about his fighting. There was no doubt, in her mind, that Jon had a short temper and an aggressive nature, and once the other pupils picked up on this they went out of their way to wind him up.

Irene Slack could only describe Jon as odd, and given to inappropriate behaviour. He always avoided eye contact when she spoke to him, showed very little emotion and appeared able to turn on the tears as he wished. Though Jon had responded to the firm and disciplined approach of his previous teacher, Michael Dwyer, it seemed that he had been able to take advantage of the different teaching style of Joan Rigg, and make a nuisance of himself.

In spite of this, Irene Slack thought Jon was more open and more likely to tell the truth than Bobby. It was Bobby who would be the dominant one in the friendship, and though he was quiet and seldom a problem in class,
Slack shared the consensus that he was cunning and a liar.

Some of their fellow pupils noted that Jon and Bobby sulked and swore behind the teachers’ backs. Many of the pupils thought they were all right, and not too much trouble. Bobby would sit quietly in class, help others with their work, and be helped by them in return. He would chat about what he’d seen on television.

But he and Jon also had a reputation for picking on people and bullying. They called the overweight boy names like Fatty and Sumo, and imitated a Japanese wrestler whenever they saw him. Bobby threw gravel in his face.

Jon was aggressive with the juniors, and ‘clotheslined’ the girls in the playground, running past and knocking into them with his outstretched arms. He and Bobby would push the other children around, telling them to get out of the way.

Even the tallest boy in 5R, who called himself the cock of the class because he told the others what to do, had trouble with Jon, who called him big lips. He offered to fight Jon after school. Jon just ran away, shouting abuse. Another boy thought Jon and Bobby were weird. They never talked to the others. They were like a little gang.

Their principal notoriety, however, was for sagging. There was the time Bobby had asked to go to the toilet in class. He was gone for ages so Mrs Rigg sent Jon to go and get him. They never came back. They must have both run out of school, and one of them had written MAT down the side of the mirror in the boys’ toilets, which was probably short for Matthew, who was one of the boys that Jon didn’t like, and liked to bully.

Mrs Rigg took the register every morning and every afternoon. The 1992 autumn term consisted of 140 half days, and Bobby was absent for 49 of them. Jon was missing for 50, though ten of these were accounted for by holiday. There were five half days when both boys were absent at the same time.

Truancy was something of a rarity in the local primary schools, though it was not unheard of. Walton St Mary’s was not locked and barred during school hours, but the doors were kept closed, and you could only gain access by ringing on a bell and waiting for a member of staff to answer. It wasn’t necessary to call a member of staff to leave the school, but still, you had to be pretty determined to escape. It was easier, of course, not to turn up at all.

Bobby sometimes sagged with his brother Ryan, or his friend Gummy Gee, who was two years younger than Bobby. Both boys told the teachers that Bobby bullied and threatened them to go with him.

Irene Slack had known Bobby’s family for several years, and had often presented the various child care agencies with information regarding the hierarchy of bullying that appeared to exist among the Thompson brothers, who had all been through the school: an elder brother picking on the brother below him in age.

There had been six brothers in all – with the recent addition of a seventh,
baby Ben – and now the problem seemed to be repeating itself with Ryan. As Irene Slack told Bobby, he might have made the decision to opt out of school, but she did not want him spoiling Ryan’s life.…

*

Ann and Bobby Thompson had married at St Mary’s Church in Walton on 11 December 1971. They were both eighteen. In fact, it was the day of Ann’s eighteenth birthday.

Both came from local families and were known in the Walton area. Ann was brought up around Netherfield Road. She was the middle child of three, with a slightly older sister, and a brother some six years her junior. In childhood, being the middle one meant being left out and treated differently. It was her sister who got the days out to New Brighton and the lovely new black leather Bible for Sunday School. Her sister was the lady; her brother was the boy her parents always wanted and got spoilt because he was the baby; Ann was the gobshite, the hard-faced cow in the middle.

They went to Sunday School one Easter, Ann and her sister, with dresses mum had made and whitener on their shoes. Ann won a prize, a Bible. It was just a plain brown Bible, but she was made up, because she’d won it, and no one had to buy it for her.

They had these dresses, stripey, the sister’s was blue and white, Ann’s was red and white. Every time Ann wore hers something would happen. She’d have a nosebleed or fall over and run blood all down it. One day she was running up the road with a cane and she tripped and stuck the cane in the roof of her mouth. Into the hospital at the top of the road, dress blooded again.

Ann was always up the hospital. Whatever it was, she caught it. Never one of the others. Tonsils, adenoids, the lot. She was playing out once and had terrible pains in her side. She got dragged indoors and the doctor came round, and said it was appendicitis. Ann’s dad went with her in the ambulance. If you are fuckin’ lyin I’ll kill yer, he said, I’ve gotta go to work tomorrow. The pains stopped when she got to the hospital. She was terrified going home, waiting for the beating.

Her dad was a lorry driver, head convener for the corporation, and liked by all. He was always in the pub, standing rounds of drinks, buying Tambourine sherry by the bottle. To Ann he was like Jekyll and Hyde, always shouting and lashing out at her at home.

When she was about five she used to get bullied by a girl in the street. Hit ’er back, hit ’er back, Ann’s dad would say. Ann would get hit by her dad, for not hitting her bully.

Ann and her sister had got their pocket money, only the sister had spent hers. Ann bought some crisps for herself and a friend. Her sister saw them
with the crisps and wanted them and told their dad. Dad said give your sister some and Ann said no, she’s spent her money. So Ann got hit for buying some crisps for her friend.

When she was older, Ann would look back and be unable to remember anything good in her childhood. If her parents loved her they had a funny way of showing it. If she ever got treated by them, bought presents at Christmas, she could not remember.

The only kindness she would recall was from her dad’s friend. When he’d been round there’d always be money hidden in the house for her to find. She asked her dad for money once, for sweets for school, and he battered her.

Dad’s friend bought her a china doll. Porcelain. Ann loved it, and kept it in her pram. She had all these steps to get down, so she called her dad. Dad will you take the pram down the steps. No. So she did it herself, dropped the pram, and smashed the china doll’s face. She was heartbroken. They took it to the doll’s hospital and fixed it up, but it was never quite the same.

Ann used to lie in bed, listening for her dad coming in drunk. She slept terribly, nightmares, sleep walking, the lot. She woke up one night, literally standing on the headboard of the bed, bashing the wall with her hands.

Another night he pushed Ann’s mum into the girls’ bedroom. He had her over the sister’s bed, and mum was screaming to Ann, get the police, get the police. Ann was in bed and when she got out he went for her and she took a battering for going after the police. Ann and her mum never spoke about it afterwards. They never spoke about any of it.

She was older then, about fifteen or sixteen, and was seeing Bobby, her first boyfriend, who was to become her husband. They’d met while she was still at school. Ann would not remember why she was attracted to Bobby. She could only think it was because he was the first fella who ever paid her any attention. The sooner she got married the sooner she could leave home.

Ann’s dad didn’t like Bobby very much and when he came round to say they were getting married, Ann’s dad said he’d give it twelve months before they divorced. Bobby asked for his permission and he said, you look after ’er, now piss off ’ome, lad, piss off ’ome. When Bobby had gone he kicked Ann round the house. You’re pregnant, aren’t you? I’m not. She wasn’t. He took the belt to her.

Ann was running away once, to Bobby, and her dad came after her and caught her on some steps by the pensioners’ home, near the Hermitage pub. He threw her down the steps – only three steps – and split her head open. He dragged her home, past a lot of people who did nothing, and as he walked he said, just look at these houses and look at these trees. ’Cos you’re not gonna fuckin’ see them again. I’m gonna kill you when I get in.