Sorcerer (4 page)

‘So what do you think we’ll find with Ronnie Wiseman?’

‘Progress, Becky. That’s all I ever look for’.

‘What about the questions over the involvement of the chief superintendent?’

‘Let’s wait and see what Ronnie Wiseman has to say and then take it from there’.           

In their time as police officers both Jeff and Rebecca had often called at the home of someone who hadn’t got much to show for their time on this earth. Such was the case of Ronnie Wiseman who lived in the rather less than affluent part of Stockport where many ‘problem’ families had been left to rot in one of the high rises only a block back from the main A6 that ran through the city like its arterial vein. The local college was on the other side of the A6 but none of the students mixed with the local folk unless they needed drugs.

Ronnie’s piece of the universe was a housing association owned flat that was devoid of all warmth and coziness. White walls, grey carpet, a sofa, a table with one chair, a small sink unit in the kitchen underneath a dull dark brown storage unit that somebody at MFI must’ve dreamed up whilst taking a piss. It was probably the cheapest they did. Ronnie didn’t seem to have given much thought to his surroundings or to anything else. Rebecca had a sneaky look in his kitchen cupboards. There was barely anything there apart from a half eaten loaf of bread, a packet of processed cheese slices, a box of tea bags and two cans of baked beans. Food was obviously just something he had to do rather than something he put any care into. He was a picture of malnutrition in a land of plenty. Chain smoking and with a grey skin that spoke of death coming prematurely after a life that had never added up to anything.

‘I was interested to get your call’ said Ronnie. ‘So what do you want to know?’ He pulled out the chair from the table to sit on and left the sofa to his guests. 

‘We want to ask about your time at Pembroke House and about the manager who was there at the same time as you, Mr. Wiseman’ said Jeff.

‘Your lot wouldn’t believe me before so how will you now?’

‘Well in the light of current investigations we’re taking a fresh look at all the old cases related to Pembroke House’.

‘Including mine?’

‘Including yours, Mr. Wiseman’ said Rebecca.

‘I don’t know anything about the bodies you’ve found’.

‘But you were there at the time we’ve estimated those three people lost their lives’ said Rebecca. ‘Now of course we’re not accusing you of anything but we want to see if there’s any connection between what happened to them and what may have happened to you’.

‘So because something has happened to other people you’re taking an interest in my case, even after all these years, but when it was just me, when it was just me trying to stand up to those bastards, you didn’t want to know. I’m only worthy because I might be able to add something to another investigation’.

‘Mr. Wiseman’ said Jeff who couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor sod. What a waste of a life. ‘It’s really not like that’.

‘Yes, it flaming well is’ said Ronnie as he picked at his trousers with his thumb nail. ‘If you weren’t interested then so I’m not interested now’.

‘Mr. Wiseman, I do understand how you feel about the police’ said Jeff. ‘I mean that. And I appreciate how painful all this may be for you. But very serious crimes have taken place which may provide the opportunity for you to get justice too’.

‘Look, I read about the skeletons they’ve found in that house and I wasn’t surprised. But if you lot had done your job properly back then it might not have led to murder. If anybody’s responsible for the deaths of those poor people then it’s you, the great British police for not doing what you should’ve done’.  

Jeff found it difficult to disagree with Ronnie Wiseman’s perspective. Who could blame him for being so bitter and resentful? It was true that if those remains hadn’t been found at Pembroke House then they wouldn’t be round here now. Wiseman was one of society’s forgotten people. Nobody had ever even said sorry for what had happened to him when he was in the care of the state.

‘I remember his name, you know’ said Ronnie. ‘They didn’t want me to say it when they made that TV documentary because of libel and all that shit. But it was Ian Hayward. I told him everything. I told him the whole lot and he did nothing. He did absolutely nothing. If he’d have done what he should then maybe, just maybe, I might’ve been able to turn a corner in life’.

‘How long were you in Pembroke House, Mr. Wiseman?’ Rebecca asked.

‘Three years altogether’ Ronnie answered.

‘And why were you there?’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘We want you to explain to us so that we don’t get it wrong again, Mr. Wiseman’.

Ronnie took a deep breath. ‘It had always been just me and my Mum’ he began, his eyes looking watery and his mouth twisted into some kind of defiant snarl. ‘I never knew my Dad and I never knew anything of my Mum’s family. It was pretty bleak at times. There was never much in the way of money. I used to envy some of the other kids at school who had a Mum and a Dad and a happy home life. When I came home from school my Mum would be sat there drinking coffee and smoking, just staring into space a lot of the time. She didn’t really talk to me much. If I wanted any tea I’d have to go to the shop and buy some stuff to bring home. That was quite normal. I used to think I’d done something wrong to have to go through such misery’.

‘None of any of it is your fault, Mr. Wiseman’ said Jeff. ‘But tell us what happened that meant you were taken into care?’

‘My Mum had a breakdown’ Ronnie explained. ‘I came home from school one day and found her huddled in the corner crying. The social worker said she needed complete rest and that’s when they took me into care and sent me to Pembroke. I’d only been there a week when I got my first beating’.

‘Why did that happen, Mr. Wiseman?’

‘I wet the bed’ Ronnie answered. ‘I was missing my Mum and I was desperate to go home. I’d been crying myself to sleep every night. I couldn’t work out what was going on, you know. One minute I was with my Mum and although it wasn’t perfect she was still my Mum and I wanted to help her get better. I got myself into a bit of a state. I got the cane on that first time. It hurt like hell. Then they made me sleep in the wet sheets’.

Both Jeff and Rebecca were moved by the sight of Ronnie remembering all the humiliations, all the hurt and the pain, both physical and emotional. He looked down and seemed to be ashamed about what others had done to him. It put Jeff in mind of his little Toby and how distressed he gets when he wets the bed. Jeff would never even dream of hitting him for it. It was comfort, reassurance, and love he needed at that time. Poor Ronnie had never got any of that from anyone. 

‘How often did the abuse occur, Ronnie?’ Jeff ventured. ‘Can I call you Ronnie?’

Ronnie nodded his head.

‘How many times, Ronnie?’

‘It was at least once a month. If I overslept, if I came back a minute late from school, if they thought I hadn’t washed my hands before a meal. I tended to wet the bed a lot so that gave them a regular excuse. I was alone. My Mum rarely came to see me and when she did it made me worse because I always wanted her to take me home with her but she always said she wasn’t well enough yet. Then she just stopped coming. I didn’t know why and the home said they didn’t know either. Then the day came when I was too old to stay there and they threw me out’.

‘What did you do?’

‘I went home. But when I got there another family was living in our house. I banged on the door of the people next door and they told me my mother had moved a couple of months before, just around the time she’d stopped coming to see me. She’d moved without telling me. I didn’t know where she’d gone. I stood in the middle of the street not knowing what the hell to do. I’ve never seen or heard from her since’.

‘But didn’t the home know where she’d gone?’ asked Jeff who was incredulous at what had happened to the sad fucker. ‘Or social workers?’

‘No’ Ronnie answered through his tears. ‘She hadn’t told any of those people she was moving. All that the council knew was that she’d given up her tenancy on the house, moved out, and they didn’t have a forwarding address. She’d done a runner. She’d left me with a loud and clear message that she didn’t want to be followed. Since then I’ve been alone’.

‘Ronnie, … ‘

‘ … and you see I really needed her when I left Pembroke and not just because I needed to come home’.

‘Why was that, Ronnie?’

Ronnie delved down deep into his inner soul to recall the event that changed his life forever. ‘It was down in the dungeon where they made their films. They’d take some of the boys down there and keep them all night. It was S and M stuff. The boys were tied up, suspended from the ceiling. Griffin sexually assaulted them and they filmed it’.

‘What did they do with these films?’

‘They made hundreds of copies of them and sold them’.

‘Who were they, Ronnie?’

‘Griffin and his wife Mary’ said Ronnie.

‘His wife?’

‘Oh yes, she was well in on it and some of the people who worked there. They should’ve been looking after us! They should’ve been making sure we came to no harm. But they killed us. They killed us all with what they did. It was like living in some kind of horror film. None of us could get out because we were too frightened to run away. We were too frightened to even talk about it’.

‘Ronnie, how did you know all this was going on? Were you made to take part in the films yourself?’

‘No’ said Ronnie. He wiped his eyes free of tears so that more could come. ‘I wasn’t considered pretty enough. Imagine that? I was rejected by a paedophile making films for all the other paedophiles. It doesn’t get much lower than that. But how I found out was one night when I let curiosity get the better of me. I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see what went on down there so I sneaked down the stairs. But Griffin caught me. I was terrified. He and Mary went crazy. They dragged me inside and they tied me down and put tape across my mouth. That’s when they told me I wasn’t pretty enough to make the films and I should’ve minded my own business. They said they were going to make sure I didn’t talk. They said that if I did they’d kill me. Then Griffin raped me’.

‘You’re accusing George Griffin of raping you?’

‘Yes! And that copper, that Ian Hayward told me I had to just forget about it. He said I had to keep my head down and move on with my life once I’d been let out of Pembroke. But then with my mother gone … you see, I’ve been trying to work out why I was even born. I mean, just what has been the point to my life? I had no Dad and my Mum cleared off. I’ve never been able to hold down a job, I don’t really have any friends to speak of. I’ve never met a girl and settled down. Who would have me anyway? I’ve got nothing to offer anyone. Not even my own mother would stick by me. I even went to church a couple of times to see if I could find some answers but all the priest did was tell me to give it all up to God. But I didn’t know how to do that and the priest said he was too busy to tell me. Not even bloody God could make time for me. I speak to some of my neighbours here but they’ve all got families so when it comes to the really important times like Christmas I’m on my own with no presents to open and of course, there’s nobody to ever remember my birthday. I just wander about without anybody noticing. Look, you seem like good people and I read the papers, I’m not stupid, I know the police have changed since Hayward let me down. But you need to get justice for all of us boys who had our souls killed by what was done to us. You need to get Griffin and put him away. I’m sure that Hayward has a happy life and never gives the likes of me a second thought but I don’t have that luxury. I’ve got nothing to take the bad memories away’. 

Rebecca reached out and hugged Ronnie as he sobbed. She didn’t care if it was unprofessional. Ronnie Wiseman needed some human contact and sympathy.

‘We’ll get justice for you, Ronnie’ said Jeff with his hand on Ronnie’s shoulder. ‘You have my word. I promise you’.

SORCERER FOUR

Jeff made a detour on his way to work to see the pathologist June Hawkins. He couldn’t help thinking about poor Ronnie Wiseman and what he’d gone through at Pembroke House. And he was only one of what Jeff suspected would prove to be many.

‘To what do I owe this honour so early?’ said June as she exchanged kisses on the cheek with Jeff. The poor bugger looked worn out and yet still retained those mature good looks of a man who well suited his mid thirties. ‘I sent you my report?’

‘You did’ said Jeff. ‘But look, there’s something I wanted to ask you in the strictest confidence and I mean just between us as friends’.

June adopted that kind of cautious look that everyone does when asked something in the way Jeff had just done. ‘I’m listening?’

‘You’ve known Chief Superintendent Ian Hayward for a long time, haven’t you?’

‘Ian?’ June smiled. ‘Well yes, I’ve known him over twenty years. Why do you ask?’

‘In all that time have you ever known there to be any whispers about him? I mean in the sense of doing something he shouldn’t have done or failing to do something he should’ve done? I don’t mean to put you on the spot, June, but it is important’.