The Mail on Sunday and the News of the World, 8 July 2001

The Jill Dando trial

Emma Lowe, the junior prosecution barrister, told me quietly, "We have a verdict." More than two years since Jill was shot, after two weeks of legal argument, 32 days of evidence and five days of waiting for the jury to pronounce, the tension was suddenly ferocious. Within moments the courtroom was crowded as never before in the trial. Three knocks on the door by the bailiff announced the arrival of Mr Justice Gage and we stood as he strode self-consciously to his chair in his crimson robe and ridiculous wig. He sat impassively as the jury was summoned. There was heavy silence.

When they entered the members of the jury looked washed out. Pale, tired, one man stooping as he groped for his seat, and as far as I could see not one of them looked at the defendant. "Would the foreman please stand." He did, and he at least seemed ready to take on the world. "Mr Foreman, will you please confine yourself to answering my first question simply yes or no," said the clerk. "Members of the jury have you reached a verdict upon which at least ten of you are agreed?" "Yes." "Please answer my next question only guilty or not guilty. Members of the jury, do you find the defendant Barry Michael George guilty or not guilty of the murder of Jill Dando?"

It took half a second for the response, it felt like half an hour. Someone to the right of me was quietly weeping. Michelle Diskin, the defendant's sister who had been so dignified throughout the trial, was in front of me, Alan Farthing, outwardly calm as always, stood behind out of view of the press, Jill's brother Nigel and his wife sat still as statues to my right with Alasonne Lewis, Jill's agent. As the single word verdict was delivered Barry George had no flicker of emotion. His only mumbled words, as the judge sent him down for life, were, "Thank you Sir."

I am not sure what my own reaction was. I had steeled myself for an acquittal and would take no pleasure from a conviction. Imprisoning Barry George would not bring Jill to life. I stood rather numbed in the courtroom as it emptied, until only I and a police officer remained. She was telephoning prosecution witnesses to give them the news and thank them, and some of the calls were obviously emotional. As I left another officer came in and the two of them quietly embraced, sharing the grief and the relief. When I walked into the corridor I too had a surge of emotion: a sense of elation that this whole sorry business was now over.

It had been agreed that Alan Farthing, Nigel Dando, Jenny Higham (Jill's best friend) and I would each give statements as we left, and all of us were keen to avoid any sense of triumph. The trial was merely salvaging wreckage from a tragedy, and, as Mr Justice Gage remarked, the most it could achieve was in putting someone dangerous where he could do no further harm. I made it plain that I never sought to punish Jill's killer, and Jill herself was never one to demonise offenders. I hoped that Barry George would lead a long, happy and fulfilling life, and said my heartfelt good wishes went out to his family. Who, after all, can come to terms with the idea that a close relative is a barmy killer? Not Michelle Diskin, who along with the impressive defence solicitor Marilyn Etienne immediately called for an appeal.

They have a point. Don't get me wrong, the verdict was right, and from the start I was convinced that Jill was shot by Barry George or someone very much like him, and I shall explain why in a moment. But the procedure by which he was convicted did not impress me. The verdict was reached in secret with no right to review the jury's reasoning and no right of appeal on their pronouncement, contrary to my concepts of natural justice. Justice may have been done but with the fateful decision made clandestinely in the jury room, it was certainly not seen to be done. The decision itself was reached by people who are so patronised by English law as stupid and illiterate that they were considered incapable of reading evidence for themselves and had to have it read or said aloud to them, and so poor at discriminating between valid and weak evidence that they were told less than anyone else in court. The evidence which damned the defendant was thus heavily censored, and even the facts the jury were allowed to hear were often presented to them in a ludicrous game of "yes-he-did, no-he-didn't" adversarial Punch and Judy. (Albeit Orlando Pownall for the prosecution was methodical, while Michael Mansfield was more theatrical.) They were expected to sit passively through 32 days of often tedious and complex evidence with no chance to interact, with no secretariat to support them in the jury room and with no presumption that any of them would have taken any notes. There was a assumption that the truth would somehow emerge through some process of osmosis. As you will have gathered, I have not found English justice an edifying process, regardless of the outcome of the trial.

Had the Concorde crash been investigated in like manner - censored evidence, adversarial jousting, secretive decisions - nobody in their right minds would ever fly a plane again. None of this constitutes grounds for appeal, of course. In the much-maligned Diplock courts in Northern Ireland, where a judge sits without a jury, there is a vast improvement on the English system: defendants can read the judgement and lawyers can appeal if anything has been omitted or misinterpreted or if there are signs of bias.

Yet we have all been fed a belief in the superiority of the traditional English trial model along with our mother's milk. Lawyers are conservative, and even (perhaps especially) those who regard themselves as radicals cling to the ancient rituals, and I know I am tilting at windmills. One day, I fear, we will turn on our judicial system just as swiftly and decisively as the market crashed for Morris Motor Cars or confidence ebbed in the NHS. But none of this is comfort for the Barry George defence. Since they cannot challenge the jury all they can do is seek to prove there was no case to answer in the first place, that the judge was biased or wrong, that the prosecution withheld evidence, or that the trial was fatally damaged by publicity.

Alternatively they must come up with convincing new evidence that was not available at the time of the trial. I doubt they will succeed. I, like the judge who had access to psychiatric reports, believe Barry George represents a continuing and serious danger to public safety.

Let me explain why I also believe he shot Jill and why, whatever you have read elsewhere, I am sure the verdict is neither unsafe nor unsatisfactory. First I reject the conspiracy theories advanced by the defence, then I shall explain how Barry George exactly matches the inevitable profile of Jill's killer, and finally why the circumstantial evidence against him is so compelling.

Right from the start it was clear to me that Jill's murder had nothing to do with Crimewatch, and on the night of the murder when I was invited to pay tributes to her I was emphatic on this score: we have never had threats of any sort, and why should we? After all, Britain has no tradition of gunning down judges who sentenced criminals to long terms of imprisonment, nor of barristers who had them convicted, nor detectives who had them arrested, nor any of the others involved in the criminal justice system. Set against their roles Jill's was modest: a relative newcomer to the programme reading appeals compiled by others. If some crazy criminal fraternity had wanted to signal its anger with Crimewatch they would more likely have gone for someone more uniquely identified with the programme rather than the presenter of Holiday, the News and Antiques Inspector too.

As for the Kosovo theory, that emerged as part of the feverish speculation in the days and weeks after the murder and was always naïve and an insult to the Serbian community in Britain. It was inspired by a trivial story that got out of hand in the re-telling and rose on the hot air warmed by everyone's love of conspiracy theory. It had its origins in a routine letter received by Jill's agent setting out in sturdy but not unreasonable tones that Serbs were not all bad and had a good deal of justice on their side. That is all it was. No threats, no implications of a threat, but simply something that, with the hindsight of Jill's murder, was properly communicated to the police. Unfortunately it was communicated to the media too (by a third party and in absurdly excitable terms) and was hyped out of all proportion. I have often smiled at the thought of Slobodan Milosovic cowering under the onslaught of his many self-made enemies instructing aides: "OK, we've taken enough. Go and gun down Jill Dando!"

Nor would it make any more sense for any of his wild supporters - unless of course they were unhinged. And there's the rub. Whoever killed Jill was deranged. It is only the motive that makes no sense that makes any sense at all. I say that not because as a friend and colleague of Jill's I want to believe that only a madman could have anything against her. I say it because all the solid evidence points in that direction, and did so from very early in the inquiry.

We have to deduce what happened from the known facts - and what we know best is about the gun (identified from the cartridge), the bullet (recovered), the shooting itself (from pathology and other reports), the time (from the next door neighbour Richard Hughes, and from technical and other evidence), the location (undisputed), and the escape (from the two neighbours who saw the gunman walk rapidly away). Each individually points away from a professional hit-man. Taken together the evidence against an organised assassination is simply overwhelming.

The gun
No expert killer would select an unstable, unreliable reactivated gun. Indeed, it is a little unlikely any would choose a small low-power Remington Short even if it did not have a re-bored barrel, nor a weapon that could in all probability only be fired once. What if he needed a second shot? And why no silencer?

The ammunition
Even if lumbered with such a puny, erratic and untrustworthy weapon a professional hit-man would always prefer the larger parabellum round to the smaller and less potent bullet used on Jill. And why would a conspiratorial gunman in London select a crimped and re-assembled cartridge? This had the hallmark of a man who could not lay his hands on reliable ammunition available to top-class criminals.

The shooting
It is almost unknown (in fact I know of no cases) in the US or UK for an expert or hired hit-man to force the muzzle of a handgun into the head of his victim with all the unnecessary dangers of being seen by his victim who may try to run, of getting involved in a struggle so missing his best target and having to shoot again, and of contamination by spray-back. Moreover, the preferred method of a sophisticated killer would have been to wait until the front door was unlocked, and then force Jill into the hallway. This would have reduced the likelihood of the shooting being seen or heard, and mean that Jill's body might have lain undiscovered for some time, allowing an undisturbed getaway. For a skilled assassin it would have been rash to leave Jill lying on the front step.

The time
Nobody realised Jill was heading for Gowan Avenue (unless she had made a secret assignation, which those of us who knew her regard as laughable). Only her agent knew she had to change a fax roll there, and only her fiancé Alan Farthing was aware of her plans for that morning. Thus the timing is critical. In contrast to someone who is mentally unstable and is therefore unpredictable, a competent professional leaves little unplanned. It is implausible that an expert would lie in wait on the off-chance that Jill might make one of her increasingly rare visits to Gowan Avenue. In any case there is no evidence of a prolonged stake-out. Not only were her trips to the house uncommon (often only once a week and sometimes less than that) but there was little pattern to them. There was always the risk that she might arrive with a driver (in a BBC car) or accompanied by Alan or a friend. Yet we know Jill was not followed because we can trace much of her journey through CCTV coverage.

The location
A mentally unbalanced man is rather more likely to have an old address than someone hired as part of a professional hit. Yet even if Jill regularly went to her home a sophisticated killer would not be keen on Gowan Avenue. It is a long, straight road with good sightlines making it hard to conceal oneself and hard to escape unnoticed. Although there are some side streets to duck down there is a conspicuous walk between them. In contrast the house where she actually lived since her engagement is much easier to stake out unobtrusively, and has ready escape routes just a few yards from a dual carriageway into or away from central London. In addition there were many other potential ambush sites - all of which she visited much more often than Gowan Avenue.

The escape
There was no obvious plan of escape. Instead of a motorbike much favoured by assassins, a fast car, or even a Range Rover (a red-herring we discount with confidence - along with sightings of a blue or green one) the killer was seen simply to walk away. This is not the trademark of a conspiratorial murder.

Thus the facts known early in the inquiry point to a loner. Far from this being a stylish assassination an amateur killer was spraying clues behind like a dog in a street of lampposts. Later, as the investigation progressed, those early indications were reinforced, not least by the fact that no conspirator broke ranks in spite of a record reward of £¼m.

When we cannot find a rational motive for a murder of this sort we should consider ones that to most people seem irrational. There is no such thing as a motiveless crime, but there are crimes, especially attacks on women, where many people are unfamiliar of what motivates others. So let us consider apparent irrationality.

As for what sort of deranged person might kill a TV presenter, this is what I wrote to Hamish Campbell, the detective who led this case, back in 1999 four week's after Jill's death:

"Experience... tells us that someone with only an imagined relationship with Jill should have a low priority. Stalkers tend to make themselves known, rarely exhibit violence, when they do they tend to direct it at others or themselves, and even if they attack the object of their desire they want them to see who is doing it. These are actuarial observations based on what we know of murders in a general population. However, let me offer you a different perspective, that of a close colleague of Jill's and a fellow TV presenter. What would Ocham's Razor imply from our view of the world.

Probability takes on a new meaning when you are regularly on popular TV. One of the features is that we are known to a lot of weirdoes, far more than most people interact with, because our circle of acquaintances is measured not in hundreds but in millions. Moreover, they are sometimes more than acquaintances. They may regard us as friends or even lovers. Viewers sometimes think they know us intimately. We do, after all, come into their lives and often share not just their living rooms but bedrooms too. In fact the prospect of Jill being 'acquainted' with someone suffering with an extremely rare psychopathic condition - provided a person with such a condition exists in the UK - is close to 100%.

As you know, the forensic medical literature does contain a few examples of men who exhibit erotomania, who separate their internal world from external reality to such an extent that they need no contact at all with their target, and - because of their narcissism and absolute belief that their fantasies are real - may not need their victim to see them even if they pull the trigger. From a conventional viewpoint the chances of such an unusual case of de Clérambault's syndrome, or whatever it is, are remote.

Then add yet another layer of implausibility. Given that Jill's murderer used a gun (unusual in Great Britain) and at point-blank range (very unusual) he has presumably killed before, perhaps in the army or shooting animals, not necessarily humans - or just conceivably he has killed repeatedly at point-blank range but only in his mind. It all seems far-fetched. Yet such probabilities depend on perspectives. From my standpoint it would be a miracle to win the National Lottery, but from Camelot's point of view it would be no miracle at all - somebody has to win.

From a routine point of view erotomania should be a low priority for investigation, but from a TV presenter's circumstances it should be high. As I say, Jill's profile, her glamour, her girl-next-door (I-could-be-your-girlfriend) appeal, make face-value odds of 58 million to one much, much shorter."

I have been bemused by the ignorance of some of the comment even after the trial; people keep saying the motive remains a mystery. There is no mystery. The answer is psycopathy of a sort epitomised by Barry George.

Eventually the police were persuaded, and when the evidence was re-assessed Barry George became an obvious suspect - so obvious in fact that his defence counsel, Michael Mansfield QC, complained to the judge in the absence of the jury that the delay was unreasonable and that Mr George should have been arrested in the summer of 1999. (Mr Mansfield did not feel he should repeat this to the jury.)

Consider the evidence. Barry George was seen at least once in Gowan Avenue that morning and he or someone strikingly like him was seen twice more before the killing. After the murder he was behaving so oddly that worried people reported him to the police. Indisputable timings confirmed by a taxi company fatally weaken his alibi, and his ham-fisted attempts to build an alibi are in themselves evidence of guilt: why did he feel the need to create one in the days after the murder - at a time when police had not the slightest interest him? Was it just a coincidence he had a fascination with guns? Was it another fluke that he had an obsession with famous people? And yet another that he was fixated by TV presenters? Later it emerged he had a history of violence against women including rape. He followed dozens of women in the street to their home addresses. Was that just coincidence too? Was it just happenstance that this same man had been found some years before crouching outside princess Di's home with a knife and a length of rope? Another mere twist of fate that he consistently lied when he was interviewed? Yes, it is all circumstantial, but the pieces build into a picture of guilt and even without the scientific evidence, the forensic profile and the psychiatric evidence, it is beyond reasonable doubt for me as it was for the jury.

Now, with Barry George's conviction, the Metropolitan Police have been subject to the same criticism that was levelled in legal argument by Michael Mansfield: why did they not nab Barry George much sooner? Look at the evidence from the murder, say the cynics, then look at Barry George and surely you have an obvious match. I have no interest in defending the indefensible and no reservations about criticising the police when censure is deserved. My years on Crimewatch, far from making me a craven mouthpiece for the police, have taught me much about their inadequacies - as anyone who reads my Police Foundation Lecture (given jointly last year with Sir John Stevens) will appreciate.

Yet attacks on the investigating team are unwarranted. What is more they would be hypocritical, since none of the media pointed out a better route map during the inquiry. Instead journalists converged rather foolishly on conspiracy theories, piling pressure on detectives to look for terrorists or criminal gangs. Let those who inhabited glass houses beware of throwing stones.

For what it is worth my judgement of Hamish Campbell, after working with him on other cases and contact with him throughout this one, is that he is a first-class, indeed a world-class, detective. He is sharply intelligent, thoughtful, methodical, scrupulously honest, and by all accounts a good manager of a large team and a fiendishly complex inquiry. Let those who bay for his blood describe better qualities that they would like to see in an investigator. Mr Campbell and his team went by the book and were subjected to monthly reviews. If there were any failures they were collective (dare I say institutional?) not individual.

Of course there were errors - we all make errors - and lessons should be learned, but they are lessons for us all not just for the police. I said in my Police Foundation Lecture that crime investigations should not be monopolised by the police, and Jill's murder has reinforced my view that a wider range of experience should be brought to bear on the investigative process - and certainly when progress in investigations is reviewed.What we need now is not more negative harping but a dispassionate reappraisal.

As it happens I know just the place where that could happen. There is now a living memorial to Jill, the Jill Dando Institute of Crime Science based in one of the world's finest institutions, University College London. It has been funded by hundreds of thousands of people who wanted to pay tribute to Jill, and its purpose is to think radically about new ways to forestall and tackle crime, and to come up with robust and practical solutions. It is just the place to look at new ways of improving detection. (All it needs is someone to fund the study. Any offers?)

Meantime I want to thank the police at all levels for the courtesy and candour with which they have treated me and Jill's family and friends, and for the heroic efforts they put into finding her killer. Despite all my criticisms of speculative rubbish that was printed in the press I must also thank my fellow-journalists for respecting our privacy and dealing with us decently, tactfully and well. My thanks to Alan Farthing for his enduring strength, and to my colleagues at the BBC, including Donald Steel (a sage and wonderfully helpful guide on handling relations with the media) and above all Seetha Kumar, a former Crimewatch producer now in management, who shared the grief and provided so much support to everybody on the Crimewatch team.

As for Barry George I hope he will be treated kindly, sent to a psychiatric unit, and regarded as a man with neural defects and a personality disorder which makes him play out his fantasies for real. I hope he never again toys with guns, takes photos of TV presenters from his television screen, collects lists of home addresses, hangs around near famous people's homes, seeks false alibis before anyone suspects him of a major crime, or follows and frightens women in the street. For his own sake, and for us all, may he live a quiet and happy life.

For over a year I have worn a forget-me-not, the badge of the Jill Dando Fund. Today I shall take it off my lapel. The Jill Dando Institute is thriving and I shall continue to put my weight behind it. But as for Jill I know now what happened to her, how, and why. I feel the episode has been resolved. It is time now to recall Jill privately as a vibrant friend and colleague and as sunshine on TV, rather than the victim of a murder. It is time to move on.

© Nick Ross, 6 July 2001