Hateland (35 page)

    I avoided mentioning Patsy's political beliefs. I knew from my years of experience with Adolf how easy it was to upset a political nut. A trivial remark could spark a furious outburst. I expressed interest in his religious beliefs. I said that, although not particularly religious, Patsy had started reading the Bible again after his comments about God's views on mankind. I also said Patsy would like to visit him or at least speak to him on the phone. In fact, given the security around him, I knew only close family members and legal representatives would get such permission. I felt the situation might change. If he got permission to phone, I'd arrange for a female to take the calls at my home. But I'd always find an excuse to avoid visiting him.

    I told him I hadn't received his last letter and that I'd written several times over the previous few weeks. I tried to convey a young woman's sense of disappointment at his seeming lack of interest. He replied on 8 August:

Dear Patsy,

Sorry you haven't heard from me but I did reply to your last letter, it must of got lost in the post (well thats what the screws would say) things hear are OK the same old boring crap, Im getting a new laywer as the last one was obviously working for the Pigs, but hes like a leach so ive just used him for things, im up to court tommorrow same old rubbish, no dout ill be in the news, how are you bye the way, it sounded like fun stacking those hay things but I wouldnt like it as I get hay fever you said you would like to visit me hear, ill arrange it from here as because of my security status theres a lot of paper work but ill sort it out don't worry, maybe in a few weaks, its good to hear that you are reading the bible even if you are not religious it can help you and guide you on to the right path, as it makes common sence, My parents are fine now and they'll becoming up to see me shortly, ill stop writing now and look forward to hearing from you or Seeing you soon, 

   Dave.

    PS hears some verses in the bible you might want to read.

He'd written out 25 references. I worked my way through a copy of the New International version. Copeland's verses came largely from the Old Testament. They contained three main themes: first, that the Jews are the Chosen People (although a passage from Revelations referred to some people who claimed to be Jews, but weren't); second, that Jews should not be unfaithful to God by marrying foreign women (that is, women from neighbouring tribes); third, that homosexuals should be executed.

    Leviticus, chapter 20, verse 13 reads, 'If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death: their blood will be on their own heads.' A few verses later, the book lists others who - God apparently tells Moses - must be put to death: adulterers, men who sleep with their daughters-in-law, people who have sexual relations with animals and - most worrying for me - those who curse their fathers. In that case, execution and eternal doom awaited me too. This chapter of Leviticus also says that God orders the stoning to death of 'mediums and spiritists'.

    I quickly wrote several other letters. I used different dates from previous weeks when I hadn't written. I didn't think he'd notice the postmarks didn't match. I hoped the letters would arrive together. Then he might think the authorities were conspiring to thwart the relationship. This belief could only strengthen his bond with Patsy.

    At the time I was writing to Copeland, I was having to deal with a developing crisis in my own life. Paul Betts had appeared on television to call me a bastard and to blame me for the death of his daughter Leah, who'd died after taking an Ecstasy pill bought at Raquels by one of her friends. He based his conclusion on the fact I'd turned a blind eye to drug dealing at the club. I regarded his allegation as ridiculous, like someone blaming a pub landlord for getting him convicted of drink-driving. I was sorry for Leah's death, but she, as an 18-year-old adult, had chosen to take drugs at her father's home (15 miles from the club) knowing the risks. And even her moralising father didn't deny that she knew the risks. Leah took the pill that killed her in her own upstairs bedroom with her parents downstairs.

    The publicity created by Paul Betts's allegation led to my children being taunted at school by fellow pupils who called me a 'murderer'. I wrote an open letter to him, urging him to confront me on live TV, so we could debate who might really be responsible for Leah's death, but he declined my invitation.

    This strain added to already existing tensions in my relationship with Debra. After a prolonged period of turmoil, we decided to split. We sold our house in Mayland. Debra found a house near her mother's. I went to live in a flat near Basildon.

    Patsy told Copeland she'd moved to Basildon. I knew he was desperate for a photo, so I had to acquire one from somewhere. I didn't want to send a photo of anyone I knew. Instead, I wrote as a would-be customer to a marriage agency offering Russian brides to British men. They sent me a large envelope crammed with photos. The only problem with the woman I chose as the best Patsy was her brown hair. I'd earlier described Patsy's as blonde. I decided to take the risk: if Copeland noticed the discrepancy, I'd say Patsy had dyed her hair - an innocent girly pastime.

    The woman in the photo looked good, but not knockout. She came across as warm and friendly, but meek and eager to please. I made out Patsy had hesitated in sending him her photo because she felt insecure about her looks. She thought she looked a bit geeky. I enclosed a newspaper article and mentioned the many articles on the Internet praising him. I failed to point out that this praise could only be found on Nazi websites, a few of which had voted him 'Aryan of the Month'.

    On 12 August, he wrote:

Dear Patsy,

I thought I better write again as know I have recieved all your letters, they all came within about 4 days of each other, I allso recieved your photo and you don't look geeky at all, if you don't mind me saying, you are very attractive young lady, but didn't you say you were blonde once, never mind, I got that newspaper article you sent it was very interesting, please send me all the stuff on the internet about me as im curious to know what it says, so youve moved to basildon it must be a change from Mayland, I left home when I was about 20 and i never wen't back, It feels strange being famous (for all the wrong reasons) people wanting your autograph people wanting to slit your throat, well thats life isn't it, Ill write more often cause I know its just the screws holding up your letters.

   Dave.

     In my next letter, I said Patsy had now read all his Bible references, but they'd left her confused, because, while God did seem hostile to homosexuals, Patsy hadn't been able to find His description of blacks as people of mud having no souls.

He replied on 22 August:

Dear Patsy,

How are you, things hear are as normal, waiting to go back to court, the courts have been messing me around and won't let me change lawyers, so ive decided to do my case, how are things with you, settling in to your new home, lots of wild parties i bet, those references I gave you are just a guide, the problem is there are houndreds of different bibles thes days, most of them have had all the good bits taken out, the Jews are mostly to blame along with the degenerates, anything good about me on the internet, if there is send me a copy Im still waiting for the screws to clear you for visits, when they do ill sort out a visit, don't worry about any one saying anything, if someone does say your my sister or something, its a bit of a ordeal though, Metal detectors, searches, a good rub down from lesbien screws, what do your friends think about you writing to me, or don't they know, anyway ill stop writing know and wait to you write back, 

   Dave.

The idea of 'lesbien screws' might have frightened an innocent like Patsy, so I didn't write back at once. On 6 September, he wrote without my having replied to his earlier letter.

Dear Patsy,

How are you and how are you doing haven't heard from you for a bit, Probably just the screws holding up my mail, though I would right so you didnt think I would forget about you, so how are things, settling into your house OK, anything good about me on the internet, Ive finally got back visiting forms so you can come and visit, It would be easyer if you sent me your new phone number so I could call to book a visit, anyway thats all for now, take care and write soon. 

   Dave.

     I said Patsy had found it hard to write back immediately. She'd been frightened by his description of the security procedure she'd have to undergo. His comments had made her realise what a dangerous place prison could be. I said she had particular anxiety at the thought of her intimate parts being manhandled by a butch lesbian. In the future, such a prospect would provide a good excuse for not visiting him.

    A few months after moving back to the Basildon area, I bumped into a woman called Emma Turner, whom I'd first met at Raquels. We'd always got on well and we began to see each other regularly. Before too long, I gave up my rented flat to move in with her.

    Since the end of my catalogue of court appearances in connection with the events of 1995, I'd found a full-time job driving a tipper lorry. I was soon offered a managerial position - and a post in Peterborough, Cambridgeshire. I didn't want to move away from my two children. Being able to see them every other day had lessened the trauma of being separated from them. Instead, I chose to drive to Peterborough every day, leaving the house at 4.30 a.m. and returning around eight in the evening. The rewards of going straight weren't overwhelming.

    I gave Copeland my new address in Basildon. On 17 September, he wrote:

Dear Patsy,

How are you, sorry I scared you about the security, I was properly in a funny mood, anyway it doesnt matter if you write, phone visit as long as I hear from you in some way im happy, So have you moved again, Is there any more stuff on the internet about me, I am up to court next week so there might be anyway thats all for now, Take care

   Dave.

     I downloaded more material from the Internet: his public image clearly obsessed him. I wrote that Patsy felt impressed by the number of people who seemed to admire him: he had to be a very special person to arouse such devotion. However, my trawl through the Internet dredged up some bad news for him. The BNP - of which he'd been briefly a member and which he'd earlier praised to Patsy - now said he ought to be hanged for his crimes.

    I wasn't surprised. In recent years, with an eye on winning elections, the party had tried to develop a more respectable image. They still spat the rhetoric of hatred, but when dupes like Copeland acted on that rhetoric they rushed to distance themselves. I knew that behind closed doors the average BNP member would be raising his can of Special Brew to Copeland. But, publicly at least, the leadership couldn't support his 'war effort'. I imagined Copeland in his cell receiving my news - the soldier being told his mission had been pointless. Copeland replied on 4 October:

Dear Patsy,

How are you, thanks for your letter and that internet stuff you sent me, the BNP are a bunch of twats, they dont realise that most British people are just walking Zombies with no mind of there own, I feel sorry for these people so content with nothing, I don't class you as one of thes, I have your picture up on my wall and sometimes ill look at it and play with myself, ive been in prison for six months and ive had to learn to masterbait, I lye on my bed at Night and think about you I think things, scenarios, fucking you, another inmate noticed your picture on my wall and said I was a lucky Guy, if all this didn't happen I would of nether met you, so thats one good thing thats come out of this,

   Dave.

    PS Could you send me some more pictures of yourself, Thanks

     I really laughed when I read his words. The big Nazi who pitied other people's empty lives lying on his cell bed masturbating in front of a photo of an imaginary lover. I knew I had to use Patsy's sexual allure to keep him hooked, but I didn't want to provide him with props for masturbation. In the past, with my other 'penfriends', I'd always boxed around sex, trying to avoid writing anything too explicit, while indicating that my imaginary character had similar sexual interests.

    I decided in this instance that Patsy would have to act shocked. I'd developed Patsy as a nice young woman with traditional values. Such a woman would hardly respond warmly to an incarcerated nail-bomber's pornographic fantasies. I was experiencing what I'd experienced before: a character forms as you write, and gradually this imaginary person has certain views on certain things.

    I didn't give Copeland too brutal a ticking-off for his premature advance. I didn't want him to think of Patsy as a frigid ice-maiden who'd remain permanently cold to him. She'd repulsed that first crude grab, but he needed to know that if he persisted he might eventually get more than a peck on the cheek.

    I wrote that, while Patsy felt close to him and wanted their relationship to continue, she'd been hurt and upset by his strong language. This had come at a time when her devotion to him had caused a rift within her family: they didn't approve of her writing to him. Then all Patsy's other little hurts came pouring out - how she felt Copeland had doubted her in the past, questioning her address and so forth. He wrote back swiftly:

Dear Patsy,

How are you, and what have you been getting up to, sorry my last letter up set you, I don't know why it did I wasn't trying to, if I did, I am sorry, 

   Anyway im back up in court on thursday, im not looking forward to it, all those people staring at you, being the center of attension, thats not me im a bit shy,