At the point of bail before charge the hard work really starts, and this case was no exception. Even getting to the point where there was sufficient evidence to charge would take a colossal effort and far more time than was left on Bishop’s ‘custody clock’. Releasing a person on bail effectively freezes that clock. When they return to custody, the clock restarts. This is fair to all. The suspect has his or her liberty restored while the police can get on with their complex and intricate enquiries without rushing.
Some years after these events, in 2011, a district judge from Salford, Manchester, threw that twenty-five-year-old interpretation of the law into turmoil. He decided that, as far as the custody clock was concerned, bail time counted as if it were jail time. This meant that even with the most convoluted investigation the police had, at most, a mere four days to get their evidence in order, or their suspect would walk free.
This created utter panic among the police, courts and politicians.
All of Sussex’s divisional commanders were summoned to an emergency meeting to ponder what the hell we were going to do. Our collective experience and expertise told us that hundreds, if not thousands, of criminals would be let off the hook. I drove to the meeting thinking of the rapists, murderers and armed robbers I had arrested and bailed over the years, only for them to be charged, and later imprisoned, once all the evidence was in place. How would we ever protect the public if this ruling stood?
Thankfully common sense prevailed and in less than three weeks emergency legislation was passed to close this loophole and normal practice resumed.
Bishop’s month on bail was frenetic. Scenes of crime officers continued searching key sites for whatever they might reveal. The initial forensic examination of the Pinto sweatshirt had also created a number of leads to follow. The garment had been covered in ivy spores which would become critical to the case so samples were harvested from the crime scene and where the garment was dumped. Equally, what was first thought to be blood was, in fact, different types of paint. DC Kevin Moore from Hastings was tasked with linking the sweatshirt with cars Bishop had sprayed and garages where he’d worked, seizing paint that might prove a match and dashing it up to the forensic lab for comparison.
Early on, Michael Evans, the ambulance-man friend of Bishop, described seeing Bishop in a sweatshirt, almost indistinguishable from the Pinto. The following month, when shown the sweatshirt, he said it was not the same one.
Officers also seized the clothes Marion Stevenson had been seen wearing on the day in case there had been any transference of forensic material. She was even arrested on suspicion of being involved in the murders but was soon eliminated from the enquiry.
Bishop’s flat was searched once again, having earlier been examined while he was under arrest. Clothing, hairs, paint, fingerprints and microscopic samples of indeterminate origin were recovered, all of which would become as controversial as they were critical.
The public demanded progress but, until charged, police rarely release the identity of those arrested. Despite this, the rumour mill ensured it soon became clear who it was.
Bishop decided to spend some of his time on bail in Wales, fearing for his safety. While he was away, he made several telephone calls to Marion which were recorded by the police on bugging equipment placed in her family home with the blessing of her parents. They did not reveal much other than, despite Marion’s assurances to her mum and dad that the relationship was over, she was still very much in a relationship with Bishop.
On 21 November 1986, Bishop, out of the blue, visited Barrie Fellows. On answering the door Barrie was shocked. Here, on his doorstep, was the primary suspect for the murder of his daughter.
‘Barrie, I just want to tell you I never topped the girls.’
Barrie was dumfounded. No ‘how are you’, or ‘I’m so sorry for what you’re going through’, just a flat denial. Barrie refused to have him in the house so they walked together along Newick Road. Bishop said he wanted to clear the air and implored Barrie to believe he had nothing to do with the murders. He lied, claiming the police had cleared him and that he had sold his story to the press. At first he told Barrie he was going to keep the money from the papers for himself before quickly changing his intentions to the more palatable suggestion he would donate it to charity.
When Barrie pressed him on his movements that October evening, Bishop conjured up an insurance salesman who he said had called on him after he had arrived home. He had not mentioned this during his three days of questioning a few weeks previously.
Barrie grew concerned that they were even having this conversation so cut it short, saying he was going to speak to the police about it. They confirmed Bishop should be nowhere near him – although he had no bail conditions to prevent that – and, to prevent further calls, warned Bishop off.
The following day, Bishop reported a burglary at his Stephens Road flat. He alleged the electricity meter had been broken into. While the officers were taking details, suddenly, he reached and pulled out a blue sweatshirt from behind a cushion, saying, ‘I’m guarding this with my life. I don’t want the CID getting their hands on it . . . I’m sorry but this jumper proves my innocence. This is the jumper with the red paint on it that the Murder Squad say they have. I can prove this is the one.’
The officers did not know what he was talking about but he was keen to press on, urging the officers to ‘tell the Murder Squad that I can prove that I was at home at 6.30 p.m. that night. I have some insurance men who will testify to that, so their witness couldn’t have seen me at Wild Park.’ Once again, he was up to his usual tricks, conjuring witnesses from his imagination.