Tyldesley, 1951
It was Wakes Week in Tyldesley and the amusement fair was paying its annual visit to Shakerley Common. All the usual attractions were there: dodgems, swing boats, ghost train, the whip and, of course, the candyfloss and black pea stalls, which were always well patronised by the local mining community. On the early morning of 8 April 1951, Frederick Broad, a colliery engine winder, had finished work at 5.58 a.m. and was walking along the path by the side of the engine house at Wharton Hall Colliery, Atherton, and made to cross the spare ground in front of it. When he was half way across, he saw the body of a woman in a green, patterned dress, covered in a light grey coat, beneath which were protruding her stockinged legs. He bent down and spoke to the woman, but made no attempt to remove the coat. Getting no reply, he went to Atherton police station and reported the matter to PC Eric Graham.
After talking to his superiors, Graham hurried to Wharton Hall colliery where he examined the body, trying to avoid moving it as he did so. Pulling back the corner of the coat that was covering the girl’s head he saw a twisted white silk scarf tied tightly round her neck. The girl was on her back, arms and legs akimbo, although so far as Graham could see, she was fully clothed. By the side of the body, he found a woman’s handbag that had little in it and no money.
It did not take the police long to discover that the dead girl was twenty-eight-year-old Mona Mather, who lived locally in Little Hulton. On the previous evening, Mona had been in the George and Dragon Hotel, Elliott Street, Tyldesley, with her brother Joseph Mather and his wife. They had spent a convivial evening together and stayed until ten thirty when Joseph and his wife got up to go home, leaving Mona in the lobby of the hotel. Although she had less than 3s in her pocket, Mona was determined to go to the Wakes Fair and even if she could not afford to go on many of the rides, she could at least soak up the atmosphere and there would almost certainly be some of her friends there.
She was standing in the doorway of the hotel when a man she knew called out to her; it was thirty-one-year-old Jack Wright. He was small and thick set with a rather florid complexion and worked as a haulage hand at the Astley Green colliery. Single, he lived with his mother and step father at 3 John Street, Tyldesley. Wright was keen to go to the Wakes Fair and as Mona had known him for some time, she readily agreed to go with him.
By 11 p.m., they were enjoying the delights of the fair together and were seen by several of Mona’s friends. At 11.45 p.m., they were still together and just getting off one of the rides, when Wright spotted one of his pals, Matthew Weir. Weir spoke to him, ‘Hello Jackie, how are you getting on?’
‘Alright,’ said his friend.
‘I didn’t know you had started courting,’ laughed Weir. Wright shook his head. ‘It’s one I’ve picked up,’ he said and then, wrapping his arm round the girl’s waist, the two of them disappeared into the crowd.
Police investigations led them to John Street, where Wright’s step-father said that he had last seen his step-son at 11.45 a.m. on 7 April, when he went out wearing a brown pin-striped suit. An all-points bulletin was now issued for the arrest of Jack Wright and at 12.20 a.m. on Monday 9 April, an eagle-eyed DC Horace Hart, of the British Transport Police, was on duty at London Road railway station when he saw, coming out of the refreshment room, a man who fitted the description of the wanted man.
John Street, Tyldesley, where Wright lived at No. 3 John Street, Tyldesley, where Wright lived at No. 3. (© A. Hayhurst)
The George and Dragon Hotel, Tyldesley, from where Mona Mather set off on her last walk. (© A. Hayhurst)
Stopping him, he asked the man his name. The man was inclined to be truculent and said, ‘Why should I?’
‘We’ll have less of that,’ said Hart, ‘I now require to see your Identity Card.’
‘Not got it with me,’ said Wright. Seeing that the man might be troublesome, Hart wasted no more time. ‘I have reason to believe that you are Jack Wright of Tyldesley, wanted for interview by the Lancashire Police in connection with the death of Mona Mather, of Little Hulton.’
‘That’s me,’ said Wright and gave no more trouble as he was taken into custody. Arriving at the police office, Wright said to the policeman, ‘I was with two women during the night and one did come from Little Hulton. I don’t know her name and it was late when I left her to walk home on her own.’ He freely admitted that he had been at the fair with the dead girl.
At 1 a.m., Wright was seen by DCs Holmes and Graham, of the Lancashire Constabulary. ‘We are going to take you back to Tyldesley,’ Holmes told Wright, ‘Where you will be seen by one of my superior officers in connection with the death of Mona Mather, whose body was found in the early hours of Sunday morning near to Wharton Hall Colliery.’ Wright merely replied, ‘I don’t know what’s happened,’ and relapsed into silence. On the way to Tyldesley police station, Wright turned to D.C. Holmes and said, ‘Am I supposed to have done this job?’
‘Sorry,’ said Holmes. ‘I can’t discuss this with you now, but you’ll have an opportunity to ask questions when we get to the station.’ Throughout all this time, Holmes was struck by the way that his prisoner seemed totally unconcerned.
At 2.30 a.m., DCI Robert McCartney interviewed Wright, in the presence of the arresting officers. He explained who they were and said to the prisoner, ‘Are you Jack Wright, of 3 John Street, Tyldesley?’ Wright nodded. ‘That’s me,’ he said.
‘I expect,’ said McCartney, ‘that you know why you have been brought here?’
‘I suppose it’s something to do with a woman who’s been found dead, isn’t it?’ Wright said.
‘You have been brought here to be questioned about your movements on Saturday night and Sunday and the reason I am going to ask you these questions is because the body of a young woman was found near to Wharton Hall Colliery early on Sunday morning.’
Wright responded, ‘Yes. I knew her, but I didn’t know her name until that Detective,’ he pointed at Holmes, ‘told me tonight.’ McCartney leaned forward and went on, ‘Do I understand you to mean that you know the woman who has been found dead?’
Wright nodded. ‘Yes, like I say, I know her, but I didn’t know her name.’ There was a silence and then Wright said, ‘I suppose you know I was on the Wakes with her last night?’
‘Well,’ said McCartney, ‘can you explain to me how it is that you knew the woman you had been on the Wakes with is the woman who has been found dead?’ There was another silence, this time a long one, before Wright said, ‘Well, here it is. It’s done and it can’t be helped now. I had power to prevent it if I’d wanted to prevent it, like I did once before. You can’t blame her, I had nothing against her, but I’d made up my mind to have a go at her and that’s all there is to it.’ McCartney stopped him and read out the caution before gesturing to him to continue. ‘That’s alright,’ said Wright, ‘It’s no use wrapping it up. What’s done can’t be undone.’
McCartney picked up a pen. ‘You can either write a statement yourself or you may dictate it to me in the presence of these officers and I will record it for you,’ he said.
‘You put it down,’ said Wright and when he had finished, the statement was read over to him and he signed it.
DC Graham then took possession of the accused man’s clothing and DCI McCartney took scrapings from his finger nails. At 4.15 a.m., Wright was charged with the murder of Mona Mather and in reply to the charge, he said, ‘That’s correct.’ Like his colleague, McCartney had also noticed that throughout, Wright appeared to be completely unconcerned at the difficult position, in which he now found himself. The due process of law followed and Wright appeared before Leigh Magistrates on 1 May 1951, where he pleaded ‘Not Guilty’ and reserved his defence. He was then taken to Strangeways Prison to await trial at Liverpool Assizes and lodged in the prison hospital.
Whilst in prison, Wright was interviewed by George Cormac, the Principal Medical Officer of the prison, who reported that Wright had had an elementary education, leaving school at the age of fourteen, when in the top class. Thereafter, he had had several jobs and in September 1938, he joined the Royal Navy, serving only until February 1939, when he was discharged as being unsuitable, although his character was assessed as ‘Good’. After which, he had a number of jobs at local collieries, but in June 1942, he was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment for four counts of larceny. When arrested, Wright resisted and had threatened the arresting officers with a large bacon knife. At the expiration of his sentence, he rejoined the colliery but on 17 December he joined the armed forces, serving mostly in India, and was demobbed in December 1945. Again, his character was assessed as ‘Good’ and he was noted as being a quiet, reserved type who discharged his duties conscientiously. This, despite the fact that he had been AWOL three times during his service. Since demob, he had again been working in the local collieries.
In accordance with normal practice, Wright was closely watched during his stay in prison and seemed to have settled in quickly, being clean and tidy in his habits and submitting easily to prison discipline. He passed the time with other prisoners and in the words of Dr Cormac, he seemed, ‘mildly indifferent to his position and expressed no remorse or regrets, but manifested normal emotional reactions in all other fields.’ This aspect of his behaviour was discussed with Wright, who told the doctor that he was a fatalist and was prepared to accept the consequences of his actions.
Dr Cormac’s report also said that Wright insisted that he met Mona Mather at the pub by chance and that she had come straight towards him, making him think that she was a willing partner. Her behaviour later, whilst they were at the fair, appeared to him to confirm this view and he was convinced that they would have intercourse before the night was out. He claimed to know something of the girl’s reputation and understood that she was promiscuous.
It seems that Wright was wrong about this, because he later admitted that he had made advances to the girl, but had been rebuffed, the girl telling him, ‘She wasn’t like that.’ It was then that he had attempted manual strangulation. Wright also told the doctor that for the past ten years, he had had an idea that he would murder a woman and said that the idea came into his head to murder Mona during the time he was in the public house on the night in question, although he was later to deny this and say that he first thought about it when they were at the fair. He went on to claim that if Mona had consented to intercourse, the matter would have ended there and the murder would not have happened.
He then admitted to Dr Cormac that he had attacked women on three other occasions: the first in 1940 during the black-out, when he had grabbed a woman by the throat, but hearing someone coming, he had left her. The second occasion was of a similar nature and on both occasions, he was under the influence of drink. The third occasion was in 1947, when he was out with a married woman and his sexual advances were repulsed. Later, the doctor passed this information on to the police, who made exhaustive enquiries, but no such attacks appeared to have been reported. Cormac was of the opinion that the accused man showed no sign of mental disease and that there was nothing to indicate any perverted sexual tendency. He considered that Wright was fit to plead to the indictment and to stand his trial.
This took place at St George’s Hall, Liverpool on 11 June before Mr Justice Oliver, who twenty years before, in 1931, had appeared in that very same courtroom, defending William Herbert Wallace on a charge of murdering his wife, after establishing a complicated alibi. Although at first found guilty of murder, Wallace was eventually released by the Court of Appeal for lack of evidence. Oliver was a popular KC, considered to be an ‘all-round man,’ if somewhat straight-laced, and experienced in serious crime cases. He had been knighted and elevated to the bench in 1938, since when he had appeared in a number of notorious trials, including that of Allan Nunn May in 1946, convicted of passing information to the Russians.
Prosecuting Counsel, H.I. Nelson KC, opened the proceedings and outlined the case against the accused, which was to all intents and purposes open and shut. Wright had admitted on the Charge Sheet the correctness of the accusation against him and forensic evidence also linked the accused to the dead girl. Consultant Psychologist Charles Vaillant, who interviewed Wright whilst in prison, emphasised the fact that Wright had remained cold and detached throughout. ‘You may think I am stupid,’ Wright had said to him, ‘but I believe that some evil spirit has taken possession of my body and the only way out is death.’ Dr Vaillant told the court that Wright was an aggressive psychopath, but that this did not mean that he was insane. The jury took little time to produce a verdict of ‘Guilty’ and Wright was sentenced to death. He paid the final penalty for a pointless crime on Tuesday 3 July 1951.