Crimescribe

It is 8am on June 25, 1942. At airfields across wartime England, RAF Bomber Command are preparing the first thousand-bomber raid. That night large parts of Bremen will be destroyed and dozens of bombers will fail to return. In the House of Commons, Members of Parliament will shortly start the day’s work, debating and voting as they normally do. Just across the River Thames at Wandsworth Prison, former RAF airman and serial killer Gordon Cummins has just entered his final hour on Earth.

At nine sharp he will be hanged by Albert Pierrepoint assisted by Harry Kirk. Protesting his innocence to the bitter end, Cummins will die to the sound of sirens. Not even the Luftwaffe will prevent Pierrepoint from performing his grim task. Just as Home Secretary Herbert Morrison had written on Cummins’ file in the traditional green ink, the law must take its course.

Largely forgotten today, Cummins was one of the most sadistic and cruellest murderers of his time. Taking advantage of wartime air raid precautions, he earned his nickname of ‘Blackout Killer all too well. Cummins definitely murdered Evelyn Hamilton on February 9, 1942. The next day Evelyn Oatley became his second confirmed victim. The day after Evelyn Oatley, Margaret Lowe became victim number three. The day after that Cummins murdered victim number four, Doris Jouannet.

These were not his only crimes. Cummins tried (and mercifully failed) to murder Greta Haywood on February 14,  a Mrs Mulcahy (also known as Kathleen King) shortly afterward. Though it was never proved, Scotland Yard detectives believed he had murdered two other women in October, 1941.

His rampage was a brief one that terrified Londoners while it lasted, especially women. That his victims were prostitutes made no difference whatever, no should it. Nobody deserves the sadism that Cummins so enthusiastically inflicted. He was without doubt a poster child for capital punishment whether you support it or not.

Even before his murder spree. Cummins had been a petty crook with a string of minor crimes to his discredit. Since the early 1930’s he had bounced from one job to another, usually being fired for laziness, habitual lateness, theft, embezzlement, pilfering and being generally undesirable. Even while serving with the RAF he was suspected of petty theft and pilfering.

An arch egotist, he led a bizarre double life in which he claimed to be from an aristocratic background rather than the wastrel he really was. He affected an upper-class accent, wanted people to call him the ‘Honourable Gordon Cummins’ as though he was an aristocrat or even honourable, neither of which he was. He used his ill-gotten gains to fund a quite lavish social life when he wasn’t stealing from his many employers and generally lived somewhere between fantasy and reality.

His other fantasies, sadistic and homicidal ones, lurked behind that polished façade. It was only a matter of time before they surfaced and the war afforded him the perfect opportunity. With air raid precautions in place, tens of thousands of servicemen passing through wartime London and prostitution on the rise, Cummins had a ready-made hunting ground with plenty of prospective victims.

Having joined the Rayal Air Force in 1935, the egotistical Cummins might have made something of himself. Granted, his arrogance did not sit well with his peers but Marjorie Stevens must have seen something in him. They were married in December, 1936 and she would stand by him, believing his claims of innocence to the end. With his equally-faithful family she would visit him several times in the condemned at Wandsworth.

He served well and by the outbreak of war in September, 1939 he had reached the rank of Leading Aircraftsman. With over 1000 hours in the air and the war creating a need for pilots, Cummins had been assigned to the Aircrews Receiving Centre at Regent’s Park in London. Wanting to become a fighter pilot, Cummins instead became one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. A senior Scotland Yard detective later described Cummins’ crimes as the worst he had ever seen.

It was and remains unclear why Cummins started his murder spree. The savagery thereof is all too apparent. Mere murder was not enough for Cummins. He had to torture and mutilate his victims in the cruellest fashion to satisfy whatever drove him. When Evelyn Hamilton met him on the night of February 8, 1942, he was merely her latest client. He was also her last.

She was found in an air raid shelter in Montagu Place, Marylebone the next morning. Strangled, though not tortured, her murderer had also stolen her handbag. As brutal as they are, such murders were not uncommon in wartime London. The murder of Evelyn Oatley, found dead in her apartment on February 10, was anything but the norm.

Also a prostitute, Oatley had picked up Cummins and taken him to her apartment on Wardour Street in Soho. Soho was not the nicest part of London, somewhere where the sex trade was rife and a beacon for anyone seeking prostitutes, strip shows and sundry other diversions. An epicentre of the London underworld, it was exactly where a criminal like Cummins would operate.

Evelyn Oatley had been strangled and er throat had been cut. She had also been sexually mutilated with a tin-opener. The sheer savagery of the murder appalled even the most hardened detective and legendary pathologist Sir Bernard Spilsbury. No strangers to inhumanity, even they were disgusted. The best that could be hoped for was that the murderer would be quickly caught and either imprisoned or hanged. Cummins was quickly caught and hanged, but not quickly enough to prevent more such murders.

Another would come the very next day, though was not discovered for several days. Known by the name ‘Pearl,’ Margaret Lowe was found in her apartment on Gosfield Street. She had been strangled with a stocking and mutilated with two different knives, a razor blade and a poker before being violated with a candle. She had also been partially eviscerated. Spilsbury was convinced that her killer was ‘A savage sexual maniac’ and noted the similarities between her injuries and those of Cummins’ other victims.

Scotland Yard’s worst fears had been confirmed. A serial killer was at work in the blackout but they had something to work with. Though not yet identified, Cummins had left some of his fingerprints. These were the first of several critical pieces of evidence that would bring him to justice.

By the time Margaret Lowe was found two more similar murders had been committed. On February 12 Cummins had seriously assaulted Catherine Mulcahy, but failed to murder her. He had left his RAF belt at her flat on Southwick Street. Doris Jouannet was less fortunate. Attacked the same night, she was found at her home on Sussex Street. Strangled with a stocking, she had also been mutilated in similar ways to Evelyn Oatley and Margaret Lowe.

By then, the police had another problem. The recent murders had become common knowledge among London’s prostitutes and, despite the wartime shortage of newsprint, the press soon started following the story. Even among the headlines from battlefields across the world, Cummins was about to become national news. He would also find himself quickly under lock and key awaiting his date with the hangman.

Catherine Mulcahy had been relatively lucky. She had escaped with her life and was soon joined by Margaret Heywood. Heywood, who Cummins had assumed was a prostitute, was in fact married and had run into him near Picadilly Circus. Unnerved by his attention, she was quickly strangled unconscious before delivery boy John Shine caught him in the act. Heywood, albeit frightened and unconscious, would make a full recovery.

While Shine looked after Margaret Heywood her attacker fled, leaving behind his RAF-issue gas mask and haversack. Printed inside the haversack were the digits ‘525987,’ the service number of Leading Aircraftsman Gordon Frederick Cummins. It was only a matte of time before Scotland Yard would find him. His time was shorter than he expected.

Alerted by Scotland Yard, the RAF Police identified the number and found that Cummins was not in his quarters. He was arrested and questioned on the morning of February 14, 1942 in connection with the attack on Margaret Heywood and denied everything. According to Cummins he had only the vaguest memories of the evening from having had so much to drink, but the detectives were thoroughly unconvinced.

For Cummins. the day had started badly and quickly turned worse. Initially charged with causing grievous bodily harm, he was soon charged with the murder of Evelyn Oatley. GBH would have earned him a dishonourable discharge and a prison sentence. Not pleasant, especially given wartime conditions in British prisons, but as grim as being charged with murder. Until the Homicide Act of 1957, murder carried a mandatory death penalty.

Detective Chief Inspector Edward Greeno had been assigned the Blackout Murders. A veteran detective, Greeno had joined the police as an ordinary Constable in 1921 at the tender age of twenty. By now a 22-year veteran, Greeno had risen through the ranks, joining Scotland Yard and serving with the Flying Squad before heading the Murder Squad. He had handled gangsters, robbers, thieves and no shortage of murderers, but even Greeno was appalled by what the Blackout Ripper was doing. Cummins had to be put out of action as quickly as possible and preferably forever.

He quickly ascertained that, despite his denials, Cummins could have been off-base when the murders were committed. Other airmen admitted they often covered for each other, signing each other back at the regulation time even if they were late. That was nothing unusual, enlisted ranks often covered for each other rather than see minor sins become official punishments. Other more compelling evidence soon linked Cummins to the what the press were already calling the Blackout Murders. It was more than enough to hang him.

Trinkets, jewellery and other items belonging to the victims were found in Cummins’ possession. One of his shirts had a bloodstain, as did the inside of Cummins’ belt found in Catherine Mulcahy’s apartment. The serial numbers of two banknotes in her flat proved they had been issued to Cummins. A pair of trousers had brick dust matching dust from the shelter where Evelyn Hamilton had been found and his haversack had traces of similar dust. Mulcahy was unable to positively identify Cummins as her attacker, but Margaret Heywood certainly could and did.

Most incriminating of all was the fingerprint evidence found by Detective Chief Inspector Frederick Cherrill, Scotland Yard’s most competent fingerprint expert. Cherrill matched prints found at three of the crime scenes to Cummins and, with several of Evelyn Oatley’s personal items found in Cumming’s possession, he was duly charged with her murder. If acquitted of murdering Evelyn Oatley there was still enough evidence for other charges, but the strongest case against Cummins would be dealt with first.

His trial was a brief one. It started at the Old Bailey on April 24, 1942 with Mr Justice Asquith presiding. Christmas Humphries and G.B. McClure led the prosecution while John Flowers and Victor Durand had the almost hopeless task of saving Cummins from a death sentence. Their uphill struggle was made no easier by Cummins seeming to be uninterested in trying to literally save his own neck.

The trial took only four days. The jury deliberated for only thirty-five minutes. When they filed back into court it was to find him guilty of Evelyn Oatley’s murder. With that done, Justice Asquith had only one task left to perform. Donning the traditional Black Cap, a square of black fabric placed atop his wig, Asquith passed the only sentence open to him:

“Gordon Frederick Cummins, after a fair trial you have been found guilty, and on a charge of murder. As you know, there is only one sentence which the law permits me to pronounce, and that is that you be taken from this place to a lawful prison, and thence to a place of execution, that you there be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and may God have mercy upon you soul.”

With Cummins safely confined in Wandsworth’s condemned cell things moved quickly. English law allowed only three Sundays between sentencing and execution barring, of course, legal delays and a last-ditch appeal o the Home Secretary if the Court of Criminal Appeal turned one down.

Cummins did appeal and in late June his appeal was heard. Lord Chief Justice Viscount Caldecote, Justice Humphreys and Justice Tucker turned him down flat. Meanwhile, letters had already gone to chief executioner Albert Pierrepoint and one of Pierrepoint’s assistants, Harry Kirk. The date was set for 9am on June 25, 1942. Not even the Luftwaffe would prevent Cummins meeting his fate.

In his last hour Cummins was offered a glass of brandy. Unknown to him, Pierrepoint and Kirk had arrived the previous afternoon, worked out the precise drop needed, tested the gallows and reset it ready for the morning. They had done this as quietly as possible, dropping the trapdoors while Cummins was either receiving visitors or out for exercise. To make it faster Wandsworth’s gallows was right next to the condemned cell. Only one more hour and a false wall stood between the Blackout Ripper and the noose.

As was standard the end came very quickly. Outside the cell door Pierrepoint and Kirk looked keenly at Prison Governor Major Benjamin Dixon Grew. As the clock struck nine, Grew gave them a silent signal. From outside came a steadily-mounting wail, not of demonstrators, but sirens. Even as the Luftwaffe flew over and their bombs began raining down, Pierrepoint and Kirk did their job as quickly and cleanly as usual.

As they entered the cell a prison officer pushed aside the false wall, Cummins turned to see the rope for the first time. He barely had time to register the noose before Pierrepoint had strapped his arms behind his back. Securely restrained, Cummins was marched about a dozen steps.

Leading the way, Pierrepoint suddenly turned and planted both hands on Cummins’ shoulders, stopping him on a ‘T’ marked with chalk in the exact middle of the trapdoor. Kirk crouched behind Cummins, strapping his legs together while Pierrepoint placed a white hood over Cummins’ head and carefully positioned the noose. With a quick glance to ensure Kirk was clear of the doors, Pierrepoint shoved the lever and the law took its course. When Gordon Cummins awoke that morning he was 28 years old and in perfect health. Before the clock finished striking, he was dead.