By midway through 2006, the Dorset team were becoming both impatient and frustrated. There was a general feeling that they were so close to a result and yet were stuck in an impasse. The mood remained upbeat, though; there was no lethargy or defeatism. And not for one moment in any day was there doubt about the final outcome.
Nevertheless, the war of attrition was taking its toll. With no real breakthrough forthcoming, the investigators decided that the time was right to reinvigorate the investigation and try an entirely new approach, one that could possibly involve everyone in the country. So, in the September of that year, the police negotiated for the case to be aired on the BBC’s hugely popular and successful Crimewatch programme, which had an amazing record for jolting people’s memories and initiating the wrapping up of cases swiftly and dramatically.
The Dorset team were brimful of optimism. Police chiefs nationwide talked up the chances of a TV-inspired breakthrough. The success rate of Crimewatch gave detectives every reason to be optimistic.
Initially, the result was disappointing, with the feedback of poor quality. Little was learned that was not already known. Quite a few amateur sleuths phoned to talk through their theories and, as always, a number of cranks had their rant but, overall, the follow-up failed to generate the conclusive, eye-witness evidence the detectives were hoping for.
‘We were hoping for something more,’ said Supt James, a shade deflated. Another officer said, ‘It would be wrong to call it a setback. We haven’t gone backwards; we’ve simply been left treading water. You never know, there could be a delayed reaction. Someone could be mulling over whether or not to pick up their phone to give us a call. People don’t always react reflexly [sic]. They often prefer to get it sorted in their heads before making a commitment; we understand that. We can wait, we’re used to it. Time’s on our side. This file will only be closed when there’s a conviction.’
While waiting for that one call out of the blue, Supt James flew to Italy in the November to appear in the Italian version of Crimewatch, which was more fruitful. Lots of women responded, recounting disturbing experiences at the hands of a hair-cutting stranger. Several descriptions of the cutter tallied. The incident in the cinema came to light then, which resulted in Restivo being positively identified. And there was a distinct resemblance to Restivo in all descriptions of the phantom cutter, so James decided to turn up the pressure.
Consequently, another dawn raid followed. Restivo was arrested in Bournemouth for the second time. Once again he maintained his composure. He had heard about the Italian Crimewatch programme and he hoped it would be helpful to the police. And like Elisa’s family, he was anxious to learn what had become of her. He had watched with detached interest the relevant British Crimewatch edition and he was as disappointed as anyone that it had not led to an arrest in Dorset. The fact that he was under arrest at that very moment conveniently escaped him.
The information from women who responded to the Italian show failed to touch a nerve with Restivo. He parried question after question. His rebuttal was the same as before – he was innocent and it was up to the police to prove otherwise. Implacable as ever, his underlying message throughout was a repetitive ‘charge me or release me’. This time, Supt James did not bother to keep him in the cells for even one night.
Although Restivo was allowed home that evening, he was now on police bail. The screw was being turned. James was now liaising daily with Italian detectives.
And there, just as they were on the brink of despondency, the breakthrough came. Claire George, an assistant in a Bournemouth chemist shop, had seen Crimewatch and was adamant about the identity of a man in a black beanie-type hat crossing Charminster Road, heading towards Capstone Road, at 9.24am on the morning of Heather’s murder. It was Restivo, a customer she had served regularly. If she was right, and she was prepared to swear on oath to the fact that she was not mistaken, then Restivo’s alibi was blown apart. On its own, it would not prove that Restivo had committed murder, but it would establish him as a liar over crucial details; not only that, stripped of the protection of his alibi, it would give him the opportunity. And why lie about his movements on that all-important morning if he did not have a dark secret to hide?
The investigators were ecstatic, but the champagne remained on ice. Their quarry was still at large, now firmly in their sights, but tantalisingly just out of range. For the detectives, there was still a long haul ahead of them and it was essential that they retained the psychological edge. Time was on their side now. If any nerves were going to crack, it would be those of the killer.
In the new year of 2007, the year that Supt James retired, the Dorset team flew to Rome. Now, with Det Supt Mark Cooper in charge, they were furnished with copies of statements from women who had had their hair snipped in public. And in Italy at the time, there was a groundswell of unrest from the general public. The media was stepping up its criticism of the National Police Force. There was an organised campaign for action, with a lack of confidence in the police igniting both interest and concern among the ranks of politicians and women’s movements. Giuseppe Persano, a police spokesman in Potenza, said that the working relationship between his force and the Dorset contingent could not have been more amicable.
The missing person theme, for so long the explanation of the Italian police, was beginning to look like a miscalculation. National and regional newspapers in Italy were now starting to question the competence of their nation’s law enforcement agencies. So much so, in fact, that Franco Roberti, the chief prosecutor in Salerno, and his deputy, Rosa Volpe, the lead lawyer on the case, assured the Italian public that the investigation was constantly being reviewed.
Meanwhile, in Britain, the tempo of the police’s efforts was being raised by the week. In the last month of 2007, the Crimewatch production team put together a second appeal that was aired with a full reconstruction of Heather Barnett’s murder. It was undoubtedly an ordeal for the children, but the killer must have been tempted to believe that the investigation was foundering, yet again.
The New Year dawned uneventfully on the Heather Barnett case. And as the investigation entered its sixth year, the detectives were only too aware of the odds stacked against them. The likelihood of a successful outcome started diminishing significantly only 48 hours after the crime had been committed. After six years, technically this was indisputably a ‘cold case’; worse than that, in fact, it was a case frozen in time. Soon there would even be a generation gap, something that could already be said of the Elisa Claps’s mystery. There were teenagers in Potenza who had not been born when Elisa suddenly disappeared.
Still the Dorset team resisted any negative thoughts; the investigation was as active as if the crime had occurred only the day before. With Claire George’s testimony in the bag, there had been a significant step forward, and at least things were moving in the right direction.
And then there was yet another sudden, unexpected twist in October 2009. Restivo went to the police to claim that his life was in danger. A package, addressed to him, had arrived in the post. Inside were two highly-polished, bronze bullet cartridges. And a message – a death threat. This was one calling card that he, as an Italian from the South, knew all about.
This bore the hallmark of the Mafia.
Restivo demanded protection. He was a victim, he said. Someone was intent on killing him. Here was the proof that he was an innocent man. If any harm came to him, his wife would have a valid reason for suing the police for enormous damages for dereliction of duty, for not having acted over the clearest possible indication that he was an intended target.
Restivo also contacted the Italian police, saying that they were obliged to investigate, just as much as the British authorities. They should trace the origin of the cartridges before the potential assassin had a chance to act. Naturally, the police agreed to look into the matter … though perhaps not for the reason Restivo might have wanted.
This development intrigued the Dorset detectives. As for giving Restivo protection, he was already being closely ‘chaperoned’, albeit covertly and not specifically for his safety.
Almost the first question the police had for Restivo was the obvious one: ‘Who could possibly want to kill you?’
Restivo’s answer was that it was a spin-off reaction from all the negative publicity he had received, especially in his homeland, where violent retribution was a historic tradition.
But how would they know his address in the UK?
Via the Internet, he speculated. The road in which he lived had appeared in reports in the Bournemouth Daily Echo newspaper and it had been available online, apart from the house number. However, a search on the Bournemouth Council’s website, scrolling the electoral roll, would have revealed the full address in a matter of minutes.
Restivo did not hesitate to emphasise that members of Elisa’s family knew exactly where he was living. So was he accusing the Claps family collectively, or singularly, of being instigators of a death plot against him? He had no idea, he said, but it was the duty of the police to investigate every possibility. Certainly the family had a motive, he argued. They believed he had done something terrible to Elisa and they had given up all hope of the Italian police ever solving the riddle. So they might have decided to take the law into their own hands, like a lynch mob.
But why give him advance notice? Why not just do it?
‘Someone wants to make me sweat,’ he suggested. It also gave him the chance to do exactly what he had done – alert the police. There was a possibility that the cartridges had been despatched by someone who was fanatical about Restivo’s perceived guilt and this was a desperate contrivance to panic him into confessing. After all, wouldn’t being locked away in prison be preferable to the prospect of an assassin’s bullet? More likely, though, this was an elaborate stunt, a smokescreen, senior officers in Bournemouth surmised. It was certainly a very convenient distraction just as the hounds were snapping at the heels of their quarry.
None of the police in Bournemouth or Italy had forgotten the bogus e-mail sent to Elisa’s mother, allegedly from her missing daughter. But a PI had traced its origin to a cyber café in Potenza. Was this another deception? The police suspected that it was but, of course, they were keeping an open mind.
The Salerno detectives, more so than their British counterparts, were familiar with Mafia methods and cartridges in the post. The Dorset investigators therefore chose initially to take the threat seriously, but they were not, under any circumstances, going to be diverted from the primary investigation into Heather Barnett’s murder.
The package had been posted in the Naples area. The name and address had been written in capital letters, so too the threatening note, so there was no chance of identifying the sender from handwriting. There was one certainty, however – Restivo had not posted the cartridges to himself. On the date they were mailed, Restivo was definitely in Bournemouth, although the scam, if that is what it was, could have been arranged through an intermediary.
Potenza resident Dino Seppe, said, ‘You have to understand that Restivo had become a hate figure in our town. So much dirt had been written about him. We Italians are very much family people. No one in our town believed his story about what happened when he met that young girl in that beautiful church. I don’t think anybody truly had any real idea what went on, except that it wasn’t the way Restivo told it.
‘Why would that girl have run off after such a brief encounter with him in church? She was going out with her family. All his talk about her being so unhappy was a pack of lies. I didn’t know them personally, but a close friend of mine did. He told me you couldn’t have met a happier girl than Elisa; always smiling and laughing, always embracing her mother and holding her hand. To say that she was talking about having to get away is wicked.’
If that prevailing attitude was true, then wasn’t it likely that someone from the town had genuinely mailed the cartridges?
‘It is possible,’ said Tony Peppi, who had associated with Restivo around the time he was accused of perjury. ‘He was always very plausible. Very self-assured. I didn’t know him at the actual time of the girl’s disappearance, though.
‘There was always a mysterious side to him. He liked to create what you might call an aura of mystique. He was a bit of a Walter Mitty character.’
In addition to looking into the purported threat against Restivo, Dorset detectives were on a whistle-stop tour of five Italian cities, interviewing, via an interpreter, a total of 15 women who had responded to the TV appeals for anyone to come forward who had been a victim of the mysterious public hair-cutter. The detectives returned to Bournemouth with statements and DNA samples.
All the theorising, speculation and posturing came to an abrupt end on Wednesday, 17 March 2010.