The Official S. J. Bolton Blog

Over a hundred years' speculation about the world's most famous sadistic serial killer has given rise to endless ideas, stories and beliefs about his crimes and his identity. As Lacey Flint, heroine of Now You See Me tells her fascinated colleagues, 'Jack was a real man, but he's become a myth.'

RIPPER MYTH 3 - JACK WAS A SURGEON

One such myth, the idea that Jack had medical knowledge, was possibly even a trained surgeon, simply will not go away.

It started, because two of the Ripper's canonical victims (those whom most experts agree were definitely Ripper killings) Annie Chapman and Catharine Eddowes were both partially disemboweled and, at their post mortem examinations, were found to be missing internal organs.

At the coroner's inquest into Annie's death, held on 10 September 1888, Dr George Phillips, (Divisional Surgeon, H Division, Metropolitan Police), reported on how he attended the murder scene and subsequently carried out Annie's post mortem. Here is part of the transcript:

Coroner: Was there any anatomical knowledge displayed?

Phillips: I think there was. There were indications of it. My own impression is that the anatomical knowledge was only less displayed or indicated in consequence of haste.

A short while later Phillips says: I think the mode in which they (the organs) were extracted did show some anatomical knowledge.

Phillips' opinion set the hare running. Police attention became focused on suspects with a medical background, possibly even those who worked in slaughterhouses and who were accustomed to slicing up carcasses quickly and efficiently. When, shortly after Catharine Eddowes was killed, the head of a local vigilante group received what appeared to be a human kidney in the post, the press and public, even the police seemed convinced that not only did Jack have medical skills, he took his victims' organs for some purpose of his own.

Trevor Marriott, a retired detective and keen Ripper historian suggests an alternative and, to my mind, much more credible explanation for the missing organs, in his book: Jack the Ripper, the 21^st century investigation.

Marriott argues that in Victorian England, medical science was far less advanced that it is now and that many areas were still actively being studied and developed. The research would have called for cadavers and body parts, in a time long before donating one's body to medical research was a normal and acceptable course of action. Marriott argues that Chapman's and Eddowes' organs were removed, not at the scene by the murderer, but later, in the post-mortem room, by unsupervised and unscrupulous mortuary assistants, who knew their value on the black market.

Which seems more likely - that organs were removed in very dark alleyways and yards, when the killer could have been disturbed at his work at any second, or in the daylight and relative privacy of a mortuary?

The abdomens of Chapman and Eddowes were cut open by their killer, so locating and removing organs would have been easy and could have gone unnoticed. Neither Polly Nichols nor Elizabeth Stride were missing organs, but their abdomens were intact when their bodies were sent to the mortuary, making unauthorized removal much more difficult. Although the Ripper hacked Mary Kelly almost beyond recognition, her organs were all left behind in her room.

Marriot's theory, to my mind, has a great deal to recommend it and Jack may well have had nothing more than the most basic knowledge of anatomy.

FRANCIS TUMBLETY - RIPPER SUSPECT

Many Ripper experts in recent years believe the American Francis Tumblety to be the prime suspect for the killings.

Francis Tumblety was born in America and, at the time of the murders, was 56, living in London and posing as a doctor. He was married to a woman who turned out to be a prostitute. The marriage failed and Tumblety became a practicing homosexual.

Tumblety was charged with acts of gross indecency with a number of males on 7 November 1888. He jumped bail and sailed to New York where he was kept under surveillance by the New York police. Those who favour Tumblety for the Ripper murders claim he kept a collection of female body parts in his American home, but there is no evidence to substantiate this.

NOT GUILTY (probably) - FRANCIS TUMBLETY

The case against Tumblety is very weak. There is no evidence that he ever visited Whitechapel or was ever violent. He bore no resemblance to witness sightings of the Ripper and, as a homosexual, was most unlikely to commit sadistic, sexual offences against women. Having had him in custody once, the Metropolitan Police would probably not have released him on bail if they had any reason to suspect him of the Ripper's crimes.

Our close-to-perfect village in the Chiltern Hills is set to become slightly less so in the coming months if the threat to our village library becomes a reality. The same story is being told across the country prompting those of us who value and want to keep our libraries (but who, at the same time, have some idea of economics) to ask whether the time has come, not to end libraries but to end free provision of books.

Just look at it from my point of view for a moment. (Well, it is my blog!) I spend a year of my life writing a single book. I don't wait for the muse to strike me, as some fondly imagine, I sit down at my desk every working day, often weekends too, and I write words. I spend a fair amount of time reading, researching, checking facts and then I write more words. I do it when I'm distinctly under the weather and I do it, like now, when the boiler has gone down and I'm freezing.

There are few people who expect to work all day, every day, and be paid nothing, but last year thirty thousand people read one of my books for free. Yes, I know, I get the public lending right and very nice it is too, but my point is the PLR is public money, i.e., every tax-payer in the country subsidising the relatively small number who want to read my books.

I don't think this is right. I think the people who want to read my books should pay for the privilege. Take a book out of a library certainly; I borrow dozens a year myself, but the days when we can expect the public purse to fund our borrowing habits are probably over. If our libraries are to survive, we must be prepared to pay a membership fee.

For this to happen, I understand, the Public Libraries and Museums Act 1964 has to be changed. Can't be that big a deal. We already have libraries issuing fines and charging money for DVDs, audio books, etc, so the principle has been established and the infrastructure already there. Just change the act.

Our local library costs the tax-payer around £50,000 a year. 5000 people would have to pay £10 per year to cover this. Probably not realistic in a village of only 2500 people but I'm sure enough people would be willing for a substantial amount to be raised and for the public subsidy to be considerably reduced.

If this were repeated across the UK, there'd be a massive injection of cash that would improve the service no end. More books, attracting more members, a better selection of films, music and audio books. Coffee bars would spring up, generating more revenue.

Importantly, for those who value market forces, people putting their hands in their pockets and parting with a modest amount of cash, would prove beyond argument that our library service is valued and needed.

Over a hundred years of fascination with the sadistic serial killer the police never caught has given rise to endless ideas, stories and beliefs about his crimes and his identity. As Lacey Flint, heroine of NOW YOU SEE ME says, 'Jack was a real man, but he's become a myth.' Here is another of my favorite daft Jack theories.

RIPPER MYTH 2: JACK WAS A TOFF

Common mythology will insist on portraying The Ripper as a smartly dressed gentleman, complete with top hat, cane and long, flowing, opera cloak. Often, he's pictured carrying a Gladstone bag. Those in the toff camp argue that an elegant, well-spoken man could more easily than a ruffian have lured women to their deaths. They insist a smart carriage would have been an effective get-away vehicle, unlikely to be stopped by the police. In fact, the relatively few eye-witness accounts differ so much in terms of age, appearance, dress, nationality, that it is impossible to form any reliable idea of what Jack looked like. Certainly, there are as many accounts of his being roughly dressed as there are of his being respectable. As far as the carriage is concerned, several of the murders occurred in places where it would have been impossible to drive such a vehicle.

The Gladstone bag arises from two eye-witness accounts of passers-by carrying 'shiny black bags'.  Although nothing concrete connects either bag-owner with the crimes, these reports gave rise to a dozen or more black-bag stories, to the point where mere ownership of such an article became cause for suspicion.

MONTAGUE JOHN DRUITT - RIPPER SUSPECT

The list of suspects in the Jack the Ripper murders is believed to be over a hundred. At the time of the murders, and as the years went by, anyone suspected of involvement in any sort of violent knife crime was considered and more and more unsubstantiated theories added to the pile. If we're talking prime suspects, those against whom a reasonable case can be built, the number is closer to a dozen. One of these would certainly have fitted in nicely with the "Jack was a Toff" theory.

Sir Melville Macnaghten, one time second-in-command of the Criminal Investigation Department at Scotland Yard, wrote a confidential memorandum in 1894 in which he named four suspects. Because of his position, and his knowledge of the investigation, Macnaghten's views were taken seriously at the time and have since passed into Ripperology. One of his suspects was Montague John Druitt.

At the time of the murders, Druitt was 31. He was a barrister from a good family and also assistant schoolmaster at a boarding school in Blackheath.  At the end of November 1888, he was dismissed from his post at the school for unspecified "serious trouble". On 31 December, his body was found floating in the Thames at Chiswick.

On closer inspection, the case against Druitt is very weak. Certainly he isn't taken seriously as a suspect by recent commentators. For a start, he had alibis, of sorts, for two of the murders. He is known to have played cricket in Dorset on 1 September, the day after Polly Nichols' murder; possible in theory but the timing would have been very tight. On 8 September, the day Annie Chapman was killed at 5.30am, he played cricket in Blackheath at 11.30am. Again, very tight. There is nothing at all to connect him with Whitechapel.

Mental health problems were known to run in Druitt's family and Montague may not have been of entirely sound mind. On the other hand, his suspected insanity could well have been nothing more than homosexuality. It is generally believed that his sexual orientation lay behind his dismissal from the school.

A man whose sexual inclinations ran towards men, even boys, would have no motive for violent sexual attacks on women. On the other hand, the threat of public disgrace and his apparent fears for his own sanity (set down in a suicide note) would be ample motive, in that day, for the taking of his own life.

NOT GUILTY (probably) MONTAGUE JOHN DRUITT

Montague Druitt was the great, great uncle of a friend of mine and whilst I'd love to boast first-hand knowledge of the Ripper's descendents, I'm afraid the evidence just isn't there. Montague Druitt was almost certainly just a sad and troubled young man, born in an intolerant age, whose suicide at the time the murders ceased was enough to bring him to the attention of the police.

My beloved lurcher, Lupe, who keeps me fit and makes me laugh, has been immortalized in watercolour. Mark Upton has just finished this adorable portrait for us and, contrary to Mr B's caustic comments, it isn't remotely flattering; she really is the most noble, poised and elegant of dogs.

I've immortalized a mate or two myself these last few years. As I've said before, I'm shamelessly lazy when it comes to fleshing out my minor characters. I just think - right, who lives down the road?

So, NOW YOU SEE ME opens with my close friend Geraldine being viciously murdered in a Ripper-style slaying. Blood pours from savage abdominal wounds but her hair looks good and her diamond earrings sparkle sweetly in the lamplight. Dana Tulloch (jointly inspired by Heather and Nina) makes a welcome return and the BBC Radio Oxford presenter who once told me, on air, that she'd be honoured should I ever name a corpse after her, might be careful what she wishes for in future.

My new leading man, Mark Joesbury, whom She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed calls the sexiest fictional man in crime, is a real Heinz 57 of a bloke.

His conception dates back to a hot June day two years ago, at a riverside restaurant, when I had the honour and excitement of meeting a real-life officer from SO10, the branch of the Met that handles covert operations. It had been drilled into me previously that officers from SO10 do not, ever, discuss their work with civilians, that even this bloke's neighbours don't know what he does for a living and that I was banned, on pain of death, from ever publicly mentioning his real name.

I agreed. I was getting a bit scared by this stage.

Officer X sat across the table from me: muscular, sun-tanned, dark-haired and macho. He wore Joesbury's trademark pale-grey polo shirt and jeans, and mirrored sunglasses that he never removed. (Joesbury's bright turquoise eyes are pure imagination on my part)

He told me stories that were hilarious and others that were downright terrifying. He made me think hard about what sort of person can give two or three years of his life to infiltrate and ultimately bring down a criminal gang; who could deal with the loneliness, fear and frustration, not to mention the guilt, ultimately, of arresting people who must have become friends. It would take an exceptional sort of person, I realized, to work in this branch of policing. It could also make for an exceptional fictional character.

After my meeting with Officer X, Joesbury was starting to take shape nicely, but I wanted him to have a softer, more charismatic side. Step forward my son's football coach, who charms everyone from eight year old boys on the pitch to 40- something mums on the touchline and keeps us loyal to the team through the filthiest weather.

Officer X's steely toughness and the coach's charm were working well together. Increasingly, though, as I worked my way through the first draft, Joesbury began absorbing my ex Flying Squad friend's sense of humour and fun. And on top of all this, as the best characters so often do, he was taking on a life of his own and becoming his own man. He showed himself capable, very early on, of falling deeply and stupidly in love.

I can't wait to find out what readers think of Joesbury. In the meantime, here is a little taster of the first time he and heroine Lacey Flint meet:

'How did he know I'm police?' I asked, picking up my fork and pushing a prawn around in a circle.

'You're wearing an orange Andy Pandy suit with Property of the Metropolitan Police on the collar,' said Joesbury, without looking up.

'I could be a villain,' I said, putting the prawn in my mouth. It sat there, large and uncomfortably dry on my tongue.

'Yeah,' said Joesbury, putting his fork down and lifting his eyes. 'The thought had crossed my mind.'

I've been trying to think of a collective noun for crime writers.  Throttle, suggested by DR MacMaster is the best I've come across, with "A bloody heap of..." by Mary Dee coming a close second. I mention this because there was one last night, in Brown's courtrooms, Covent Garden, when the lovely and talented Dreda Say Mitchell announced her programme for the 2011 Theakstons Old Peculiar Crime Festival in Harrogate.

Amongst the throttle was Joanne Harris.  No, really, she was there. And, I'm afraid, has joined the increasingly long list of brand name authors who think I'm a slightly crazed, semi-drunk housewife who somehow manages to blag her way into gatherings of proper writers. In my own defence, whilst there are many authors I admire, Harris ranks in the stratosphere alongside Stephen King, Thomas Harris and JK Rowling for me and it was only natural I was going to be a bit star-struck. Had I known she was going to be there, I'd probably have prepared a few semi-intelligent questions. As it was, all I could do was gape adoringly while she and Powerful One conversed.

We did, though, touch upon the subject of endorsement quotes. Harris says she was sent ten books last week by editors, each hoping she'll read and endorse. Even I, slightly crazed housewife that I am, am starting to get requests and, the three I've read and endorsed so far have been, genuinely, excellent. But here is the dilemna. What on earth do I do if I'm sent a book I really don't like? Politely decline and risk going on a blacklist of grumpy and difficult authors? Or write something anyway and get labelled an insincere, attention-grabbing, rent-a-quote tart?

It's a tricky one. Especially as a number of uber famous and talented authors have been kind and gracious enough to give me quotes before now.

The Harrogate programme, by the way, looks fabulous and I do heartily recommend it to anyone who loves crime and lovely northern cities. Martina Cole, Linwood Barclay, Tess Gerritsen, Val McDermid,Lee Child, Mark Billingham and Dennis Lehane will all be appearing. As will the slightly-crazed housewife from the home counties, but don't let that put you off.

By the way, I almost did become a bloody heap on the way home. I tripped and fell getting off the train. And, no I wasn't even semi-drunk by this stage. Just not as steady on my feet as I used to be.

Joanne Harris pic courtesy of Adrian Lourie.